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Knot. An ambivivalent symbolism since all powers of binding also imply those of loosening, of restraining but also uniting; the harder it is pulled, the firmer it becomes and the greater the union. Knots also represent continuity; a connection; a covenant; a link; Fate; that which binds man to his destiny; determinism; the inescapable. Knots can also be instruments of the enchantress, magician or witch, in which the tying of knots is the power and weaving spells. Loosening knots is freedom; salvation; the solving of problems. Cutting a knot denotes the taking of a short, steep path to salvation and realization Buddist: Knots are also associated with infinity and eternity. Chinese: Longevity; binding the good and an obstacle to evil. Christian: The three knots in the monastic girdle are the three vows of poverty, chastity and obedience. Hindu: The mystic knot of Vishnu depicts continuity; immortality; infinity. Iranian: The sacred cord, kosti is knotted twice in front and twice behind.
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HOLLYWOOD HILLS HIGH SCHOOL
THE KNOT retied
2015-2016 3
The Knot A Hollywood Hills High School Literary Magazine Hollywood Hills High School 5400 Stirling Road Hollywood, Florida 33021 Sponsor: Bryan Trimas, M.Ed., NSDA coach Principal: Mrs. Lourdes Gonzalez Published by Hollywood Hills High School under the aegis of the School Board of Broward County Printed by B&W Offset, West Park, Florida, owned and operated by Ron Adler This literary magazine is copyright 2016 by Hollywood Hills High School. First World Rights only. All individual works remain solely to the property of their creators. All who violate these rights will be subjucated to imediate alien abduction
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This issue’s cover of a blue print signifies planning for the future and laying out a new foundation for years to come. This year has been one of transition for our literary magazine’s staff, more so than any other year. All but one of our staff members is a senior; this isn’t unusual seeing as the editors are usually in their last year of high school. This year was different. In a group decision the seniors decided to name the junior as Editor in Chief because laying out the future for our magazine and our club is not something that could have been done in a single year; the task has been given to the member with the most time left at the school. This year we layed out a blue print for our future
This issue is the embodiment of the 2015-2016 school year through
its students’ eyes. Our layout is more professional than its predecessors’ but still maintains its DIY aesthetic to pay homage to our first issues that were xeroxed off. We have set a new precedent for future issues and have managed to keep to our roots. With that I would like to say thank you to Alex, Disney, Maddie, Rebecca, Sarah and Zach for being the best staff and friends I could have had in high school. I hope your last year at hills has been as wonderful as each of you have made my time here. I will miss working with all of you and hope your transition to a new chapter in your life goes as successfully as the transition of the magazine has been this year. 5 II
The Staff
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Editor in Chief: John Corredor
Literary Editors: Madison Whatley Rebecca Saltzman
1.. 6
Layout Editor: Alexis Vazquez Zachary Skwarek
Guest Editor: Sarah Cohen
Secretary: Disney Witt 6III
Since I was a freshman and was put in creative writing, I’ve been a part of the literary magazine. And now, as a senior, looking back on all the lit mags that’ve come out, I get a glimpse into how I and those around me who have remained a part of it have grown. It’s a real tear jerker. Then, when I started helping the editing process, I began to get a glimpse into who the people around me were. And all those days spent in the closet (though I haven’t been able to spend as much time as I’ve wanted in there this year) reading through stories and poetry and begging people for their artwork ended up in this book that we had spent all of this hard work on, and I’ve always been so proud of it. The voices in these literary magazines are not those of authors we’ve grown accustomed to reading about in our English classes or the few poets from past centuries we hear about. These voices are ours. They’re a raw representation of who we, both as individuals and a generation, are. I’ve found that sometimes I only realize things about myself when I find a way to write about it. Being a part of this magazine and growing with it these past four years has been a great experience. I’m so glad I’ve been able to be a part of. It’s one of those things that if I hadn’t have gotten involved with, I don’t know who I’d be now. Working on Lit Mag and wanting my work to be in Lit Mag made me realize what a passion I have for writing, and now it’s part of how I define myself. I miss the hours spent in Lit Mag closet with the other amazing editors. This will be one of the parts of high school I will miss the most when I go on to college in just a few short months. So I guess, for whoever is reading this, thank you for buying this Lit Mag. Thank you to anyone who has ever bought one or has submitted their work because you have been a part of something amazing. IV 7
-Sarah Cohen
Since the middle of last year I've been helping out with Lit Mag. I was never close to anyone in Lit Mag last year until I started sitting in the room with everyone. Hiding under the table, or sitting next to the book shelf reading and flipping pages of different Lit Mags. On top of flipping through books and looking at othes' poems, stories, and drawings; being excited about having my art work and poems in one of our Hollywood Hills Literary Magaines. Everyone I have meet in Lit Mag has become a close friend. I'm really thankful to have them in my life and to be in Lit Mag with them. It's funny because, there are seven of us in Lit, and I'm not the only girl, which I'm happy about. I'm happy I've got Maddie & Becca to always talk to while we work while Zach, Alex, & John are making jokes about something. I think over this year, we've all come to be a little bit closer to one another.
-Disney Witt
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The Lit Mag breaks away from the regular limitations set by essay topics or assignment guidelines. It encourages students to craft in accordance to only the restrictions set by themselves, and offers an incentive for them to break out the best of their best to get their work written into Hollywood Hills history. It’s the perfect opportunity to finally create for yourself. Unfortunately, the Lit Mag’s true purpose is often overlooked. Students covet their words in print so much that they feel they must adhere to the Lit mag. Almost like worshippers to an Idol. This leads to lackluster work devoid of any passion whatsoever. They ceased crafting for themselves, and started constructing for the masses in hopes to have their work appear more acceptable. They must come to realize that the Lit Mag is a vessel for self-expression. If you don’t shine your light on a piece, why do you expect it to have a shadow? Any work lacking the creator’s ideals also lacks a meaning. Strive not to walk in the footsteps of the Lit Mag, but to stride beside it. Only then will you truly use the Lit mag to its fullest potential. -Zachary Skwarek
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This year is my senior year as well as my second year as an editor of this magazine. The Knot is a huge part of my high school experience, but it’s also meant a lot to me in other areas of my life that will continue past high school. To me, working on the literary magazine is so much more than an extracurricular to cite on my college applications. After spending some time trying to find my way in school, I met a very welcoming, talented group of people in the club, and I stuck with them, and it’s been a pleasure working with them. I know that I’ve made connections that I will cherish forever because of The Knot. There is something very special about collecting art with my best friends to publish for others to see, and the fact that anyone would buy this magazine just to see the work of students means a lot to us. Our magazine has been around since the 1980s (my mom and aunt both worked on it back in the day), and although many things have changed, we continue to produce the magazine in a rather DIY fashion. There is much common ground amongst the different issues of the magazine. Throughout the years, teenagers have generally written about the same things. It is comforting to know that we share similar experiences, yet we are all unique enough that we can learn from each other while we grow up together during our four years of high school. The Knot has absolutely created a sense of community for me. We want students to know that what they think is important, and we want students to take pride in the things that they create. And in an environment where students who do well in STEM fields are praised, but students who do well in art and literature are told that they’ll never find a job, I’d hope that this magazine reaffirms for students that art is an integral part of our society. Of course, in working on the mag, we have days where we don’t get any submissions, and we tend to get discouraged, but we do our best not to let it get to us because the next day we could get a submission that is just wonderful. That’s what keeps us going, keeps us passionate about what we’re doing. Here’s to the artists!
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-Maddie Whatley
As someone who has constantly taken pride in being un-
der the radar and part of the outside crowd of people, it’s weird to see that I have helped make and leave a lasting impression on the Lit Mag. Sure, it’s never really been much that’s visible, but I feel proud knowing that I did something I loved. It wasn’t always like this, however. I used to be an antisocial anti-club kid who refused to participate in anything worthwhile. Then after convincing by some talented and eccentric people, I soon after realized my talent and joy for acting and writing. I can’t say this year’s transition has been easy for me, but I can bet that every school year it’s been that way for lots of people. I just hope that this magazine can give you a slight glimpse or small shard of the beauty and structure of literary arts that have helped me when I read them. I like that, don’t you? Short and sweet, almost like a cakepop not filled with sugar, just delicious eye candy in the shape of words. I feel like most messages will be conveyed throughout the majority of the editor notes and the literature in the magazine… But you know what you don’t get? Rambling. A full on page on what expresses this editors talent would be nothing if not the most unnecessarily large and wordy note that you would’ve hoped ended lines ago.
I hope that I can make this fun for you, or that you enjoy the magazine that
John slaved away at, but most of all – I hope you learn that you need to write… Just like I’m doing now awkwardly on this piece of paper, it’s something that evolves, grows, and strengthens with you the more you cross off a word or an idea with your pen. This year had made me scared, feeling that my love of writing and reading might not be a love for what was a good many people anymore. But I know what I can do to change this: it’s to practice the message I’ve repeated and rambled about: to write. So long as I write, I can hopefully inspire someone else to do the same, and then a paragraph filled domino effect can begin for my generation to rekindle it’s flickering love for literature, so write – and I’ll read.
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- Alex Vazquez
If you would’ve told me four years ago that I would be writing poetry, loving it, and being in a club dedicated to creative writing, I would’ve said that you were crazy. Up until freshman year, I absolutely hated anything that had to do with poetry. It was hard to read and understand and I didn’t believe I was creative enough to write poetry. I didn’t get to pick my classes freshman year and when I looked at my schedule and saw “creative writing” I was ready to die. There was absolutely no way I was going to like creative writing.
Fast forward and now I’m a senior, ready to graduate, and I
can’t imagine getting through high school without creative writing and Lit Mag. Not only have I made great friends and have memories that I’ll always remember, I learned so much. I learned how to cope and deal with my feelings better. Instead of keeping it all bottled up inside waiting to explode, I grabbed a piece of paper and a pen and I wrote. Lit Mag taught me how to be apart of something that was bigger than me, and I’ll always be grateful for that.
Words can’t describe how thankful I am for this experience
and the people who I got to share it with. I hope that Lit Mag continues to have the same effect on people as it had for me. IX 12
-Rebecca Satlzman
This is my junior year of high school and my third year working on The Knot. The other editors and staff members are all seniors so I’ll be on my own next year (well, not alone but the only returning member). The thought about being here alone to work on the magazine next year both excites and terrifies me. Now I’m not going to get all mushy (I’ll save that for next year’s note) but I do want to tell you that this has been the hardest year for us, what with the transition from the Ms. Clark generation to the Mr. Trimas era and all. Although both Ms. Clark and Mr. Trimas left us to our own devices (for the most part) the process of publishing this magazine was a lot easier with Ms. Clark because she had a lot of authority in the school and the community, what with being here since 1976. However, this is probably one of the best issues we’ve published since our establishment in 1980's. I think we’ve picked up a lot of responsibility since the beginning of the year because we couldn’t “get away” with as much. Getting content this year wasn’t the easiest. We’ve seen our students progressively losing interest in the arts over the years and this literary magazine is one of the few remaining displays for its appreciation. We’ve worked with what we received and wrote what we didn’t have. There are some pieces of work that we would have loved to put in and are great as stand-alone pieces, but didn’t fit with the rest of the content; these would have been a stretch to put in. I would like to thank everyone that was involved in our publishing process and everyone who has taken the time to read our literary magazine. The arts are wonderful and I hope that you'll enjoy this issue.
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- John Corredor
Special Thanks to Some Special People‌
Special thanks- to Mr. Trimas, our new sponsor, who humbly took this club under his wing and spent his time and energies to make this possible.
Special thanks- to all who have helped out, like Disney Witt, and provided any creative insight to us.
Special thanks- to the artists like Jennifer Brown, Emmanuel Carcamo, Cristy Martinez, and many more art masters for sticking it to The Man and providing their talents in helping us create this beautiful literary magazine.
Special thanks- to Ms. Eager and her class for providing artwork and inspiration for the writers in creative writing and Ron Adler for printing this wonderful magazine.
Very special thanks to all who have submitted and shared any artwork, photography, prose and poetry. You have contributed to a tradition that has endured the ages.
Art by Valentina Cardona Title Page Art by Mely Irias I Art by Valentina Cardona II Art by Adriana Parrales V Art by Sam Beckwith VI Art by Anonymous XI Art by Enmanuel Carcamos XI Art by Anonymous XII Art by Carlo Miguel Laterio XIII Art by Enmanuel Carcamos XV
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The Poet Always Stays Strong -Rebecca Saltzman 1 Day One -Rebecca Saltzman 2
Art by Jennifer Brown 2
Hidden Key -Carlo Miguel Laterio 3 Art by Jennifer Brown 3 The Persistence Of Memory -Ciera Farrell 4 Time -Nicolette Schneider 4 Art by Jennifer Brown 4 Only Time Can Tell - John Corredor 5 All the Things I Should Have Said -Sarah Cohen 6
Art by Ayanah Noel 6 Bottles - Alexis Vazquez 7
Art by Valary Lubih 7
Aurora -John Corredor 8 Antarctica -Brittney Roth 8 Amidst The Breeze -Bria Woods 8 Day Two -Rebecca Saltzman 9 Flower in the Winter -Nicolette Schneider 10
Art by Marissa Richards 10
Sun Flower -Ciera Ferrell 11
Art by Marissa Richards 11
The Real Problem is Me -Jordana Nazim 12 My Heart at Night -Brian Woods 13
Art by Jennifer Brown 13
Hot Life -John Corrector 14
Art by Sam Beckwith 14
Photography by Ciara Biederman 15
XII 15
Can We -Samantha Becker 16 Photography by Paul Gray 16 A.P.D (Automatic Pill Dispenser) 18
Art by SamBeckwith 18
Haiku #1 Madison Whatley 19 Haiku #2 Madison Whatley 19 Haiku #3 Madison Whatley 19
Art by Sam Beckwith 19
My Minds an Ocean -Nicolette Schneider 20
Photography by Giovanni Grinovero 20
Sonnet of the Sea -Sarah Cohen 21 Carnival -Rebecca Saltzman 22
Photography by Rebecca Saltzman 22
Day 3 Rebecca Saltzman 23 Aligators Aren't That Bad -Madison Whatley 24 Photography by John Corredor 25 You Are Scared -Bria Woods 26 Photography by Nicholas Whatley 28 Turtle -Giovanni Grinovero 29 Lost -Anonymous 30 Where to Go -Betsabeth Aracia 30
Art by Jennifer Brown 30
Hey You -Jordana NaZim 31
Art (Robot) by Anonymous 31
Art (Island) by Enmanuel Carcamos 31
So Long as the World is Still Here -John Corredor 32
Art by Jennifer Brown 32
XIII 16
Coffee House -John Corredor 33
Photography by John Corredor 33
Curly Hair -Nicolette Schneider 34 Calendar Only Make Me More Disoriented -Jordana NaZim 35
Art by Jennifer Brown 35
Stressful Incantations -Alexis Vazquez 36 Skulls of the Past -Anna Vernicou 37
Art by Yessenia Balestena 37
Your Doll -Madison Whatley 38
Photography by Rebecca Saltzman 38
The Box -Esther Sason 39
Art by Anonymous 39
Tyrant's Urge -John Corredor 40
Art by Enmanuel Carcamos 40
War -Nicollet Schneider 41 Melting Skies -John Corredor 42
Photography by John Crredor 42
Ask the World for Answers -Sarah Cohen 43
Art by Sarah Cohen 43
World of Black and White -Giovanni Grinovero 44
Art by Carlos Santana 44
My Own -Nicolette Schneider 45
Art by Christy Martinez 45
Art by Sam Beckwith 46 I Prefer Heals -Ciara Biederman 46 No Call -Rebecca Saltzman 49
Art by Enmanuel Carcamos 49
XIV 17
Word Vomit -John Corredor 50
Art by Enmanuel Carcamos 50
The Frustration of Math -Laurynmer Salgado 51
Art by Enmanuel Carcamos 51
Chaos -Nicolette Schneider 52
Art by Bruce Paredes 52
A Sunday Afternoon in New York -John Corredor 53
Art by Bruce Paredes 53
Erased by Sickness -Laurynmer Salgado 54 Church Parking Lot -John Corredor 55
Photography by John Corredor 55
My Thoughts Have All Forgotten Me -Sarah Cohen 56 Growing Up -John Corredor 57
Art by Enmanuel Carcamos 57
Walls -Sarah Cohen 58
Art by Alexandria George 58
Day Seven -Rebecca Saltzman 59
Art by Christy Martinez 59
Charlie Hopkins -Alexis Vazquez 60 The Predator -Ciera Farrell 62
Art by Bruce Paredes 62
Blood Red -John Corredor 63 Oh Moon -Leah Perez 64
Art by Leah Perez 64 La Lune/The Moon -Juan Gomez 65
Day Eight -Rebecca Saltzman 66
Art by Sam Beckwith 66
Art by Disney Witt 67
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The Poet Always Stays Strong We don’t always Get recognition as a poet, But we all Stay strong. Even through It all, we still write from our hearts.
We put our hearts First always To make our poems strong. We try to find strong Words through A dictionary and it always Takes all Day, but in our hearts We will always love being a poet.
We pour our hearts Onto pieces of paper that almost always Go unpublished, but we push through It because we’re poets. We’ve learned to be strong Through it all.
We really do love being poets That’s why we’ve stayed strong, Why we pour our hearts Out through Page after page for all To see throughout our life; always.
We have all Built our hearts To be strong. We can always Listen to the negative feedback, as a poet And stick it through.
The heart of a poet Will always stay strong, Even through it all.
We make it through The low pay, hoping we can all Make it big as a poet.
- Rebecca Saltzman 1
Day One I saw you around But I never said hi I didn’t wanna look like a clown Cause you were such a cute guy. I took a deep breath Before I sat down beside you I felt my legs shake beneath My jeans when your head began to skew. You looked over at me And I stared down at the road. You said you liked my tee And my cheeks turned red like I was gonna explode. Then you told me your name, I told you mine as a reply You said you were glad I came And I said so was I.
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- Rebecca Saltzman
Hidden Key There are many things That needs to be said But somehow this cage Keeps me trapped inside my head Expressing these feelings as actions My eyes say it all But I wish my words Could have told them instead My words are like birds in a cage Wanting to be set free While this cage screams at me That I’m a coward for not getting the key I sat down inside the cage And I cried out instead Now I have no confidence My soul left me, as if I were dead.
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-Carlo Miguel Laterio
The Persistence of Memory
Time is an illusion That Melts at the hands of the sun And is revived by the nights soft glow. Beauty and simplicity are the keys to life. Find oak trees, ocean waves, and bird chirping Get lost in their texture and sound. Time is an illusion. Watch it disperse when you get lost in the sunset Listen to its distant cries as you blast your favorite song. Time is an illusion Find what you love and get lost in it. - Ciera Farrell Time Man is the only Species That makes the Mistake Of overthinking each Day To the extent where he Exists But never Lives - Nicolette Schneider
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Only Time Can Tell Only time can tell where you’ll go from here Just hope all goes well No need to yell Nothing to fear Only time can tell On your problems, don’t dwell Or your eyes will tear Just hope all goes well Your ruler’s not a bell Who cares if you don’t hear Only time can tell Your deeds don’t all need to be noble As long as their sincere Just hope all goes well If all goes to hell Your selfishness will have disappeared Only time can tell Just hope all goes well -John Corredor
Tense We’re stuck in the past Prepare for the future, and Neglect the present -John Corredor 5
All the Things I Should’ve Said
Thoughts plucked before their prime. And I told my smiles to a carrier pigeon,
My words are in a bottle
But told him not to fly,
A message never sent,
My thoughts were those of grounded things,
A ship that will never see the sea,
Not brave enough for the sky.
A courage that’s been bent.
But maybe if I had let them sail,
My voice is in a sheet of paper,
Maybe he would have read,
Folded many times
All the things I never told to him,
Left in a drawer of forgotten things,
All the things I should’ve said. -Sarah Cohen
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Bottles Tell me something Why do you choose to be angry, But not feel the need to voice anything? How is it fair to me? I’m just a friend Always here for you, But you don’t tell me what’s wrong. You just bottle it up And wait for someone like me An accidental sparkTo set you off. It’s annoying really How highly I’ve regarded you, But now I’m not so sure, For what I’ve now seen Is what happens When you have a friend Who is all bottled up and closedThey expire.
-Alexis Vazquez
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Aurora It’s the Aurora Borealis that shines through The dark winter sky -John Corredor
I am pristine, I am untouched You can’t get through You can either get stabbed by the icicles that Protrude from my skin, Or you will go numb from the frost Coating my body. Those who have tried Realize that I’m too cold The blizzard is too much to bear. Yet, you’re the one that warms me, Through and through. You make me melt, Like once limpid liquid in your hands. Even something so pure Can be tainted By those not so kind
Amidst the Breeze A voice is heard amidst the breeze That tickles the grass and all Of the trees With its tender touch and Its nice bells of sound It lingers so sweetly Like a lovely newly found song - Bria Woods
Antarctica
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-Brittney Roth
Day Two You were sitting by your friend’s car When I saw you look up. I was buying a candy bar When you walked over and said ‘sup?’ I offered you a bite And you took it with a smile Your teeth so bright, I stared for a while. We shared the snack Even though it was mine You said you’d pay me back, But I told you it was fine. My phone rung And I had to leave, So I said bye and up you sprung To give me a hug I couldn’t believe.
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- Rebecca Saltzman
Flower in the Winter A heart he must win So an ocean he traveled Waterfalls of black sin The pressure his battle Spoken words without meaning This man; undefined Her eyes always reading Oh the chills up his spine Beauty like religion But no practice needed. The minute she spoke One’s confidence depleted. A fantasy, a dream He knew he must live. But what was there to offer? What love to give? Unready his mind For it is not spring. A blossom he’ll be Once the blue birds sing. -Nicolette Schneider 10
Sunflower Breathtakingly beautiful and bright, She radiates love from her gleaming yellow petals. Never letting the storm bring her down But allowing her to grow I admire the purity in her eyes and Passion in her soul. She’s always looking towards the sun. I am the sun And she is my sunflower.
- Ciera Ferrell 11
The Real Problem Is Me The problem with being honest Is you think everyone else is too But sometimes when you see an orange shirt Someone else will try to convince you “it’s more peach” And they won’t say it’s just their perspective You’re wrong, naturally. The problem with loving unconditionally Is that you think everyone else does too So when they get bored Or find a newer model, You are still unconditionally in love And you’ll learn to accept that. But there is a very specific Kind of pleasure that comes from Loving someone who does not love you in return The problem with loving fairytales Is you think everyone is one. But no one names his daughter Snow White. And no one names her son Charming. And the Evil Queen, She isn’t a third character, But the reality of who people really are.
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-Jordana NaZim
My Heart at Night My heart beats tender like a song It can be heard throughout a quiet night The night, a tender blanket in the sky My heart aches for its comfort and its light I cry, for glowing stars I mustn’t see My heart is sealed from such beauty I try to see a moon that floats so high, but My heart is chained from all that’s lovely And all the midnight’s masterpieces are all but ordinary
-Bria Woods
13
Hot Life Every person is kindling But it’s that certain Spark Between two people That smolders into new life, Your birth’s an ignition To a small flame, Warm And not so bright Then Puberty hits and you Flare into an inferno Refusing to be controlled You’re a Conflagration, Incineration is a must In adulthood you dwindle To a blaze Still a vibrant fire But burning less and less Your heat lessens to an elderly ember Only mildly scalding Until your last breath, A simple puff of smoke Once it’s over your body’s due for cremation you’re reduced To a pile of ash -John Corredor
14
15
Can We? Can we go for a walk? I’m starting to feel very hot. I just really need to talk. Remember that day we met on the dock, It almost felt like we actually had a shot. Can we go for a walk? I thought we still had time on our clock, But I guess this was the plot. I just really need to talk. What was really going on Jacques? You told me you were ready to tie the knot. Can we go for a walk? You weren’t the type to stalk. I wasn’t expecting some sort of big rock. I just really need to talk. wanted the relationship to be on lock, Instead you let it rot. Can we go for a walk? I just really need to talk? -Samantha Becker
16
17
A.P.D. (Automatic. Pill. Dispenser.)
I still remember his face Very bored and tired Like what he said to me Is something he has repeated thousands of times. Thinking about it now I think he didn’t care about me He just looked at me And wrote me a slip of paper. Maybe he felt like a man at a ticket booth Giving me a golden pass To go forward and receive my medicine. Maybe he felt like a gumball machine Vibrant and vivid-dispersing colorful goodies So long as I paid him. Maybe he felt like an ATM Pushing out prescription papers For my personal benefit. I don’t know what he felt like But it doesn’t matter Because I don’t remember his name And he doesn’t remember me.
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- Alex Vazquez
Hey, John, I have a Submission for you. Check it Out. It’s a haiku. -Madison Whatley John is super cool. He has candy for Maddie. Maddie loves candy. -Madison Whatley
Don’t be a kiss-up. It will not get you candy. I want real poems.
-John Corredor
19
My Mind’s an Ocean My mind’s an ocean With thoughts that play the sea A perplexed purifying potion A velocious motion These currents tend to be My mind’s an ocean This deep devotion The shells; my memory A perplexed purifying potion A salty emotion Creating energy My mind’s an ocean This endless commotion In a space that’s free A perplexed purifying potion One beautiful explosion Within the depths of me My mind’s an ocean A perplexed purifying potion -Nicolette Schneider 20
Sonnet of the Sea We put the sea into one single jar, And told each other all was well and good, While lungs and gills filled with the thick black tar, Assured that we had done all that we could. We looked into our jar with waning pride, As this was just a piece of what was once, And as a lonely fish ‘slumbered’ inside, We didn’t know that it’d been dead for months. A world once bright and strange dimmed under us As we filled jars and looked on its demise And could not comprehend its vast bareness As the empty stretched further than the eyes. Perhaps the worst thing for ourselves has been The fact that we’ve become our greatest sin. -Sarah Cohen
21
Carnival Up, down, around we go Getting a birds eye view of the people below As they snack on colored snow. Spinning, twisting, dizzy we are In bumper cars That make their way far. Kid’s laughter all around Smiles, no frowns For miles to be found.
Pink fluffy clouds on wooden sticks For a price of six And a bag of tricks. Bright colors and rushing sounds, Balloons held by clowns We are at the fair grounds. 22
- Rebecca Saltzman
Day Three I ran into you at the gas station
I got there around ten
On the corner of our block.
In a cute little Navy dress.
You were buying beer for a celebration
A few hours later we were in your den,
And I was taking a walk.
Clothes flying as we began to undress.
You called me over,
You walked me home that night
It was the first time I heard you say my name
Not wanting me to get hurt.
“Stop by tonight, and moreover,
I felt all right
You look beautiful today” he said with no shame.
And continued to flirt. We got to my front door
A smile lit my face
It was quiet, not even a hiss.
As I said that I’ll be there
You’ll call me tomorrow you swore,
You told me to meet at your place.
And off you went without a kiss.
Walking home I felt like I was walking on air. - Rebecca Saltzman
23
Aligators Aren't That Bad Alligators are the
“Not so,” I say.
Best animals in the wild-
Only do as they know-
Creepy and scary, yes, and
Please don’t hurt them.
Don’t get close.
Quite unfair-
Even so, they’re my
Reality is they’re
Friends, because I’m Guessing they Have no others. I’m sympatheticJust concerned. Killers track them.
So misunderstoodToo confusedUnlucky creaturesViolent, yes, but Without fault.
Xanthic scales bought and sold.
Lenience is not given.
You can’t get past their
“Monsters” they’re called.
Zigzag teeth. -Madison Whatley 24
25
You Are Scared!
after the other children everywhere as the puppy with a crooked smile. “If scampered away out of The goldish hue I scare you, you have to fear. of the creamy sky, the be my friend.” “Since you guys crunch of the dead, Joy couldn’t com- insist on running away brown leaves, and the from me, it must mean high-pitched chime of a prehend that statement. that you are all scared!” childish squabble made Taking no notice of the white-pawed puppy that Chip declared with a up the little park like a touching grin. had decided to follow picturesque scene that had lifted itself right out her with moonlike eyes, “What is he talking of a painting in order to she filled her belly up about?” Pip stopped runwith tiny cupcakes as the ning to gaze at Chip with breathe. stirring sun tugged at the dull, grayish eyes. “I scared you!” buttery white clouds that Disheveled, cinnamon “I haven’t the hugged the glowing sky brown hair, a chipped slightest clue.” Kyle in lumpy fluff. tooth, and shoes that yawned out of pure bore “Run, Kyle!” Hainever seemed to be tied dom as he leaped up ley squeaked. formed the owner of onto a nearby swing. such a piercing voice “You must get In his mighty demanding itself to be away,” Pip laughed. struggle to catch up to heard, demanding that the others, Chip landed “Hey, wait up!” the pitying sunlight Chip huffed as his breath squarely on his face as could beam down on a quiet breeze tickled Chip and trap itself with- faded away into the the dead leaves that flutbreezy autumn air. in the brown pupils of tered everywhere into his eyes with a heedful Curiously, Joy the chilly air. “You’re blink. looked up in time to take scared!” Chip turned his heed of the glistening “No, you didn’t,” face to confront Joy. Joy tendril of a spider float- was flapping around as if Kyle told him. ing slowly down from she meant to fly. “He just wants to a tree to land gracebe our friend!” Pip raced “No, she is not!” fully upon her shoulder. away. Hailey shouted. Joy toppled over with a startled squeak. The tiny “Of course I do,” “She’s not scared Chip agreed, chasing frosted cupcakes flew by you,” Pip laughed. 26
At that, Chip stood up to saunter over towards the spider that Joy had shrugged away. He picked it up and placed it amongst the hanging leaves of a nearby tree. He then turned to glare at each child. “The next scared person that I save has to be my friend!” Chip declared.
“Way to go, Biscuit!” Pip squealed pleasingly. “Look who is scared now!” Hailey purred. “I suppose he has to be Biscuit’s friend as of now!” Kyle feigned surprise.
Suddenly feeling all of the cupcakes and ice It was clear that cream that she had eaten Chip’s new plan had earlier finally settle her failed. Joy sat down on stomach, Joy rose up, the the front stairs of her tight grip on the uneaten home cheerfully eating ice cream that she held, one of her two ice cream made the other children, cones as she watched including Biscuit, scurry Chip buy a chocolate away. flavored one of his own with a crooked grin. Chip prepared to run, but Joy ambled Loud barks shatover the splattered ice tered the quiet air as cream with a, “Now that the white-pawed puppy I saved you, you have started to follow Chip to be my friend too”, as with a wagging tail. Tershe happily handed him rified, Chip leaped back. her ice cream despite of The look of horror filled Chip’s senseless protests. his eyes as his newly purchased ice cream “Thanks, Joy!” toppled down onto the Chip devoured the chocground with a messy olate flavored ice cream splat. as he gave Joy his full 27
smile, chipped tooth and all, while they shook hands. “You should tie your shoes.” Joy advised Chip as they prepared themselves to chase after the taunting kids once more.
“Okay,” Chip
obeyed eagerly. His eyes shining with newfound confidence meanwhile the satisfied sunlight beamed down to trap itself within the brown of his pupils. “Come on, Joy we have some new friends to make!” He took off happily, but not as happily as the tagging along white pawed pu py that had just made new friends. -Bria Woods
28 28
Turtle Like a turtle you hide in your shell Even though we all know too well The stories we hear Like a kick in the rear With everyone speaking you only listen to the ones underground But look closely, look what you found The knowledge we find Brings us to the right state of mind And with the burst of the sun you‌ are‌ happy.
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- Giovanny Grinovero
Lost I’m lost; I don’t know where to go I’m lonely I have no one to talk to I want to get out of my comfort zone To make friends and to experience life, But I also want to stay locked in my room So I can be alone and read -Anonymous
Where to Go Left, right, up, down I don’t know where to go I’m stuck in every direction With no where to go I Have no sense of direction I’ll be all alone Lost in my own mind I’ll turn crazy thinking About my future, my career One day I’ll figure my Way out and I’ll know Where to go -Betsabeth Aracia
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Hey you, I know this is a little strange Since my last words to you Where a long the lines of “F” yourself But this time is different. I want to say thank you, Thank you for being my muse. While we were together I was your canvas, Your marble you chiseled Piece after piece off of Until you got the shape you wanted. You gave me some good plot lines But when we were together, I could never- I could never Write an impactful ending. In fact, I was so busy Being your inspiration that I forgot how to find words that rhymed So thank you For giving my novelThe greatest twist of all time. Oh, and also, If – NO WHEN – I get published, Sorry that your character dies. (Also sorry that I’m your murderer) But HEY! Forgive and forget, Am I right? Anyways, thank you For reminding me How to be my own knight in shining armor Not the kind that saves the day, No, no, no This isn’t a fairytale And I’ve accepted that. We were never meant to be that. I mean I have an impenetrable External shell That allows me to be fearless Going to battle And then When the time is right, I can peel it off, strip it all down, And be human again. Thank you For making me smack the ground Face first. While everyone was watching I’ll admit that when you Pushed me off that diving board And I belly flopped with the whole pool watching, It stung like hell And I began sinking to the bottom
Practically hugging the ground But you wouldn’t have thatYou were fine. You were always fine And youYou were perfection But I, With my stomach red, I had to be better. I made a synchronized swim group I was not the little mermaid But goddamn Poseidon Emerging from the water And your ability to be okay, Made me transform Crystalize, into coral reefs Growing, stretching Grasping at the surface And you, you were no longer My sunlight Most importantly Thank you For lying to me. Being a good goddamn liar, Because since I believed you, I stopped believing in me. Then after you left, Like a depressed runaway teenager In the middle of the night With just enough money for a One way bus ticketI – II learned how to use super glue And power tools And though I am filled with Bolt’s, screws, and stitches I love the raised scars on my heart. In fact I love them more Than I ever loved you, So thank you For returning me Back to myself In better condition than when I gave myself to you.
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- Sincerely yours, No- sincerely mine, Jo
So long as the world is still here Yesterday, one of our regulars Ordered her usual (A short cappuccino, In a tall cup, Light milk; One Splenda®) My fellow barista Handed her the espresso beverage “I’ll see you tomorrow.” To which she responded nonchalantly “Yes I’ll see you tomorrow, Same time, same place, So long as the world is still here.” That got me thinking If the world was to perish With our monuments, Our literature, our coffee And our lives There would be no one To grasp the fact That everything we once knew And cherished had fallen to oblivion And above all that this woman Was so determined (Or so prone to repetition) That nothing, nothing would stop her From coming back the next day Other than the abrupt Conclusion of our consciousness -John Corredor
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Coffee House Take me to that nice coffee house today And fill my nose with the unsoiled scent That is unique to softly lit cafÊs With environments keeping guests content. It serves espresso with crème, not too hot, And plays smooth jazz and blues as background noise. It is a soothing place provoking thought. The dim lights do allow the glows of pleasure to illuminate from tile mugs And oh the people, they are very nice. Those feeling down might just be offered hugs Or maybe get some coffee filled with ice. I do adore the homes filled with caffeine Persistently surrounding me with beans -John Corredor 33
Calendars Only Make Me More Disoriented
To you, I haven’t been able to write anything I’m actually proud of lately. By lately, I mean months. By months, I mean ten. Because ten months ago was the day you took my good away. And by day I mean the third. I mean I laughed when my dad said both good things And bad things come in threes. And the third time was not the charm But god, your charm was disorienting And I don’t believe in third chances.
You ask for too much And by too much, I mean nothing. You ask me for nothing. You ask me to disappear and become nothing. Gone with the wind. Just a mist of ocean air caressing your face Before it evaporates into the stratosphere.
I haven’t been able to write anything I’m proud of in 329 days. I haven’t been able to write about anything but you in three years. I haven’t been able to break that cycle, But you’ve been able to break me.
34
- Jordana Nazim
35
Stressful Incantations As the bones fall and tumble to the floor I look and quail at the horrible sight of Yet another skeleton that belongs to me The poisonous spell that has quickly leaped from The closet is now wrapping itself around me Weighing heavily on my chest and Cementing my stance so that I am A statue displaying the perfect symbol The symbol of fear, anxiety, and most of all‌ stress. Centuries seem to pass before I finally Try to inch myself forward to confront my cracking skeleton My muscles and tendons cry out in aching pain As they have to push my unwilling body Closer and closer to the calcium covered Embodiment of all my negative thoughts and problems In one final surge of strength I flail Outwards and grab the skeleton by its dusty ribs Screaming and crying I slam it into the wall Tearing it apart, bone by bone and Cramming it back into the closet Shutting and locking the door Praying that its stressful incantations won’t cast itself out again to me. -Alexis Vazquez
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Skulls of the Past
For my broken bones For my warrior cry For the feathers That define me I have my pride I fought I lived I won With the pride Of a warrior And the ancestry Of a Seminole I play My team sport Football I am the Player And the winner Of all time Settled in the dust -Anna Vernicou
37
Your Doll Your torture lives within me.
Yourself. You didn’t
In many ways, I’m still your captive.
Always play nicely,
It started with manipulation;
Too harshly, but I was
Friends, family:
Happy to leave the confinement
Gone- I didn’t need them
Of my case, and I
According to you, my angel,
Craved your affection, so I
So I shoved them away.
Didn’t complain, but when
I lived at your will day by day
I bruised, it made you
As you groomed me, and when
Angry. Of course, dolls
You started dressing me to your
Do not develop marks
Liking, I thought,
On their skin.
“What’s the harm?”
I appeared quite fair,
Eventually, you decided to
But internally, I began
Prop me up in a display case
To decay. As my organs
And lock me inside, and
Rotted within my body, I
Although I was uncomfortable
Decided that I did not
And lonely, you told me
Want to be your doll anymore.
And you gripped me
That you just wanted to Keep my beauty safe
You told me that you’d
From the dangerous world, so
Release me, but
I felt special and loved.
Not before you took What was yours.
Playtime came, and you
You held me still
Used me to entertain
And tore my delicate
38
Skin off of me – bit by bit. You sent me on my way. I could barely keep My mangled figure upright.
It’s taken me a year To rehabilitate, But I still suffer. I don’t know where you are, But your voice resounds Constantly in my mind, And hatred swells throughout me. Your memory makes me vomit. Everyday, I am reminded Of my time as your prisoner, But I refuse to live As a victim forever. I pinch my skin and remind Myself that I am not Porcelain. With every breath, I remember that I am not A doll – I never was.
- Madison Whatley
The Box The pain of the souls around, Constantly dragging into a dark abyss, No matter how hard or fast it falls, There is no bottom.
It falls and falls until it plummets, Feelings of promise and hope are gone, All that’s left is sorrow and despair, Dropping deep into the center of time.
Wanting and wishing to feel something other than pain, Anticipating more pain because that’s all you know, It keeps falling until the weight has been lifted, And the pain and sorrow and misery is back in the box.
-Esther Sasson 39
Tyrant’s Urge I want more But I’ll never be satisfied I think I’ll start a war I’ve gone through every store But nothing soothes my appetite I want more I’ll sail to a foreign shore And consume all they have to sacrifice I think I’ll start a war Generosity is a bore I’ll take all I find I want more I love the gore And faces of the terrified I think I’ll start a war Louder than all my greed will roar Yet no one is horrified I want more I think I’ll start a war
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-John Corredor
War A continuous violence Where men speak in shades of black. This soft yet bitter silence, A train without its track. One fights to only lose A love within their golden heart. Saving whom, when death you choose? A race that only starts. This fire may consume A soul that dances with the dust. To sit like a weed while all is doomed, This nation we must trust. A continuous violence A key to unlock the door To soft and peaceful silence And ending all of war. - Nicolette Schneider
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The world will not end When beings with bat scales And pointed tails Fill the melting skies Caused by the conflagrant chasms From which the once dwelled Nor will the world end When these vile creatures Paint the pearly white gates Red with the blood Of its immaculate inhabitants No, the world will end When our peaceful protectors Pierce their wings Because they’ve given up on the world And given up on their selves -John Corredor 42
Ask the World For Answers
And outstretched her arms
She had the galaxy in her mind,
To beg the universe for its answers,
But could not handle its weight.
She did not expect it to respond,
She traded empty space For an even emptier one,
Did not expect the terrible
And could not stand its vastness. For when she opened and emptied her mind
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Weight of its emptiness. -Sarah Cohen
World of Black and White For being a spectrum it’s hard To live in a world of black and white. The path in front is colorless, but the World I already crossed has been touched by a rainbow. Everyday more join the army of color and wonder. We spread like a virus of positivity until the world is Like that of our childhood coloring books And heal the world of black and white. -Giovanni Grinovero
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My Own Oh how I long to be unique; my own In a world that’s black and white. So I stand, and yes if that’s alone, I’ll wait and wait all night. These shoes I wear will lead me To a place with color and life. As I take my step, I don’t look back, For my direction is my light. Above all the skies that show my Dreams and the vibrancy I wish to be. So if I reach way up high, I’ll touch the stars and kiss the sky. So why do I fear? Why am I afraid? When I’m vulnerable, Being true is the only way. Now I’m on my own In a world so vast and plain. My dreams will be followed And my mind will be sane. -Nicolette Schneider
45
I Prefer Heels (All characters speak in a Northeastern United States accent) (Opens with a young women sitting on a stool, staring at the audience. She sits there for about 30 seconds pulling her facial skin taut in several directions.) (In enters a woman several years older than the young woman.) Gloria: You are so beautiful… Just like your mother. Meriam: Would it kill you to give me a compliment that didn’t involve also complimenting yourself? Gloria: Oh! You would just love it if I died, wouldn’t you? I swear! No one appreciates me in this house! Meriam: I’m sorry ma. You know that’s not what I meant. Gloria: Yea, yea. (Jen enters.) Jen: (kissing Gloria on the cheek) Hi ma. Gloria: (To Jen) Oh you just look so beautiful! (To Meriam) Why can’t you own your beauty like ya sista’ does? You wear way too much makeup on your eyes, and not enough on the lips. Lipstick was God’s gift to woman, ya know. Mary was his vessel. Well, Mary Kay anyway. Meriam: Jen HAS to wear a lot of lipstick. It serves as a protective layer for her lips when she kisses you’re aJen: (Cutting Meriam off) Oh come off it Mer! You’re just jealous because I’m ma’s favorite! Gloria: That’s ridiculous! I don’t have a favorite! Meriam: (Rolling eyes) No matter what she’s done. It’s like she’s fricken’ Mother Theresa, or somethin’! Jen: Green just isn’t your color, Mer. Gloria: (To Meriam, pinching Jen’s cheeks and speaking as if she were cooing a child) How can I help it? I couldn’t be more proud of the woman she’s become. She’s everything I’ve ever wanted her to be. (Pause) And, Jen’s thriving marriage gives me leverage whenever Mrs. Gottlieb boasts about her daughter at Mahjong. (Mimics Mrs. Gottlieb) “My daughter… you know, the one who married the dentist…” Well, my daughter married a lawyer! Ha! Meriam: Yea! Your daughter, the peak of perfection, the same one who also brings her flask to the Synagogue. Jen: That was one time! (To Gloria) And it wasn’t a flask, ma. It was a candy dispenser that I got for my bridal shower.
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Meriam: You mean Bachelorette party, and it was a flask! You filled it up with vodka didn’t you? Gloria: You did?! During religious services, Jennifa?! That’s not Kosher! Jen: I was thirsty and It was flavored water. Meriam: (Eyes opening widely and voice slightly raises) Yea! Flavored with fermented potatoes! Gloria: Okay, I’ve heard enough outta you missy. (To Jen) I Believe you. (Both Jen and Gloria shoot dirty looks at Meriam) (To Jen) So, you got a hot date tonight with the hubby? Jen: Yea. Jeff finally got the night off. It figures on the week that I’m taking a break from spinning class. If my fanny grows any larger, I’ll need to wear a sign around my neck to warn people when they’re in the splash zone! Well, I gotta go pick up the babysitta’. Gloria: I wish you would let me see my grandchildren once in a while. I’m not gonna live forever. Especially with my heart condition. Meriam: Ma, you don’t have a heart condition! Gloria: With you constantly breaking it, it’s amazin’ I’m not already buried next to your father. (Pause) God rest his soul. Jen: (with her back to her mother, she makes a motion of popping something into her mouth, pulls a water bottle from her purse, and takes a swig of water.)(Turns back around) I gotta go. I was supposed to be there at 5:15, and it’s already 5:30. Jeff’s gonna bust a vein. Bye ma. See ya Mer. Love ya both. (Jen exits) Gloria: So, you feel like goin’ out tonight? Meriam: Nah. I was plannin’ on stayin’ in. I have dates with Ben, Jerry, and all of the Real Housewives of New Jersey. See ma, I have three dates in one night! Gloria: Very funny. (Pauses and says very slowly and matter-of-factly) You know, Mrs. Goldstein’s son just got dumped by his fiancé’, and he’s very lonely. (States this very factually) He’s a doctor you know. Meriam: (Surprised tone) Do you mean Joey Goldstein? The same Joey Goldstein who’s owned Goldstein’s Deli down the street for 15 years? Ha! Doctor? And I’m an astronaut. Gloria: Well you do have your head in the clouds most of the time, and anyway, he’s practically a doctor. He performed the Heimlich, and saved that man’s life last week. Meriam: Yes, but once the guy got his entre, he wished he’d have died. Gloria: Well, somebody shoulda’ warned him not to order the Kischka, anyway, you can do the cooking. You’re just getting so… OLD and all of your good eggs gone. Meriam: I’m 24 ma! Gloria: And you’re at the borderline of losing even your decent eggs. I will settle for a Benjamin, or even a Miles, but please don’t wait until the last egg left is a Larry! Have you ever met a Larry that didn’t look like he freshly murdered someone? I don’t want my grandson to be a-a- an ick-
47
Larry! Meriam: What if I have a girl? Gloria: Then I hope she brings you just as much joy as you’ve brought to me! (Pause) I just wish you were more like your sister. Meriam: (Rolls eyes and in a mimicking tone) I wish you were more like your sister. Gloria: She never gave me this much trouble, and she’s been happily married for 10 years. Meriam: All Jen does is stay home, drink wine, and pop Xanax, all while Jeff “works late”. Gloria: I’m not listening to this negativity! (Puts a finger in each ear) La la la la! Meriam: And what were you plannin’ on doin’ tonight? You gonna take another bath with your dog? Gloria: It’s not a bath, it’s a shower. Meriam: Whateva’, you’re still naked. Gloria: Every dog sees their owner naked, and anyway, it doesn’t bother him. Not like it did your father. Meriam: (A pure countenance of disgust) And yet another scar, even the Kardashians’ plastic surgeon couldn’t remove. Gloria: Can’t you see that I just want the best for us… I mean you. Meriam: That’s exactly why I don’t see it, ma! You want me to be just like Jen, or you want me to be just like the Konviser girl down the street. But really, you want me to be just like you! Gloria: That’s not true! Meriam: Yes it is, ma! You wallow around this house, miserable. You nag and complain till I wish that my ears would physically bleed, just to drown out the sound of you droning on. I spent an hour crying in the shower last week, because I felt just a little part of me become like you. If you’re so unhappy with your life, why do you want for me the same unhappiness? Gloria: I don’t want you to be unhappy. I just want to shelter you from what I don’t know. I’m scared for you to make the mistakes that I was too afraid to make. I wouldn’t know how to help you fix them. And my life’s not so bad. Meriam: I don’t want to settle for ‘not so bad’. I love you with all my heart ma, but I want somethin’ wonderful. I want somethin’ that is worth not hitting the snooze button for! I don’t want to make the same mistakes as you, ma! I want to make my own mistakes. And I want to make my own happy endin’. I want to live my own life. You want me to fill your orthopedic sandals, but what you don’t understand, is that…I prefer heels. End
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-Ciara Biederman
Day Four ...no call.
Day five ...no call.
Day Six ...no call.
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Word Vomit I once knew a man That would drown his Sorrows by drinking Up the meanings of each word In the dictionary And just like an alcoholic On a bender, he too, Was tough to be around And once his eyes were bloodshot From binge reading You could tell that This man had become inebriated Through his incessant consumption Of countless definitions Every conversation he’d have Included him spewing word vomit All over his interlocutor Leaving himself prone to a Lonesome hangover where His mind was left dehydrated From the lack of sustenance In his thoughts -John Corredor
50
The Frustration of Math
f(x) = (x+2)^2-1 What is this equation doing to my mind? I’m getting frustrated! No! Aggravated! What do you pretend for me to simplify? I prefer to just take liberal arts But if I don’t solve this I won’t solve a life.
- Laurymer Salgado 51
Chaos These colors scream chaos These faces; unknown Reflections; a plenty Or the shape shifters shown. Cooperation is lost In the mixes of blue The daring dancing pens Of white lay true. How might this change Through triangular cues? - Nicolette Schneider
52
A Sunday Afternoon in New York I live in Florida and all I see When I walk by a group of people Is a collage of blank faces But when I visit New York I am amazed by what I see. With eight and a half million residents It is the largest city in the U.S. Yet everyone I see is an individual No one blends in with the crowd Although I am disgusted With its capitalist infrastructure I can’t help but being in awe With what it has produced A grandiose city made up of art From the buildings to the people, it’s all art If the Earth was painted by Georges Seurat New York City would be A Sunday Afternoon On the Island of La Grande Jatte Every individual is its own dot Coming together to form a masterpiece -John Corredor
53
Erased by Sickness I am a blank page Nothing comes out of these lips I am a blank page My mind is so colorful, It is no longer powerful I am a blank page Without a story and events I am a blank page Vague memories are the only thing left I am a blank page With my life completely erased - Laurymer Salgado
54
Church parking lot The first time I’d been to church Since Catholic School Was not to talk to god No, it was so I could get away Get away from everything real All of my obligations And responsibilities Seemed so distant as I Sat down on the bench Of my truck’s cabin And stared at the empty lot Devoid of any deities That occupy so many thoughts The last time I went to church After Catholic School Was not to talk about anything real No, it was so I could get farther Farther from god -John Corredor 55
My Thoughts Have All Forgotten Me All I had tried was to give life to my poetry, To give it spark through ink-stained fingers and tongue, But now I think my thoughts have all forgotten me. I held them as though I would a bird fallen from their tree, With the most careful care so his last song won’t stay unsung, All I had tried was to give life to my poetry. Without my words, I felt as though I were an amputee, And maybe they’d come back to me when I then lost a lung, But now I think my thoughts have all forgotten me.
I did not know they’d leave me if I set them free, But my new thoughts ran with the recklessness of the young, All I had tried was to give life to my poetry. I know they’ll take a boat, for I have always written of the sea, And maybe, just maybe, they’ll think of all the songs I sung, But now I think my thoughts have all forgotten me. But maybe with my runaway words I should agree, Maybe it was I who onto them too tightly clung, All I had tried was to give life to my poetry, But now I think my thoughts have all forgotten me.
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-Sarah Cohen
Growing Up At this point I’m just rambling on Wondering where my creativity’s gone Sitting in a chair, biting my pen Pulling at my hair I just wish I had something to write about Even if it’s doubt worthy You heard me I miss being a little kid Where everything I did Was filled with imagination I’d pretend I was in some far off nation Or chief of a fire station Rescuing people from the scorching flame Dreaming of a life of fame and wealth Not the least bit worried about my health Even if I had snot pouring out of my nose I’d pull on some clothes and run around for hours But when we grow up we become cowards Afraid to do what makes us smile We just copy what’s in style But isn’t it funny that when we’re small And don’t care at all We’re happier that any grown up Working on their 3rd cup of coffee To escape their zombie state Caused by late nights filled with stress; Never getting an ounce of rest -John Corredor 57
Walls Did you not know that all the walls have ears And eyes of paper staring down at you, Did you not know they’ve watched you through the years, Through all the days and nights your children grew. But do not fear for they do not have teeth, Nor any mouth to take a taste of men, But be advised to never look beneath, Where all the words you’ve said lay writ in pen. And maybe you’ve forgotten all those nights, Nights lost inside of bottles and closed doors, But know your walls did not forget those fights, And all those words in ink had once been yours. So if you wonder why you’re all alone, Just ask the walls; for all this time, they’ve known. -Sarah Cohen
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Day seven‌ My phone rung, It was you. I wanted to hate you, but I was young And stupid and agreed to meet you in a few. I met you at your den Where we did it that night. You kissed down my neck again And I felt like I was in flight. You drove me home at eleven Instead of us walking. I felt like I was in heaven, But later that night I felt like I was breaking‌ It was 1:30 AM when I got the call That you were in a crash. I felt my heart fall As I got to the hospital in a dash.
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- Rebecca Saltzman
Charlie Hopkins
lived: One-eared Ravi. Ravi has been terrorizing Bunning-ton for ages, more so now that Mr. Hopkins is gone. Everyone that Charlie knew was scared to even whisper the name of Ravi. Charlie was going to put a stop to the fear and terror once and for all.
There once was a bunny named Charlie Hopkins. Charlie looked like the average bunny rabbit you’d see prancing about, with spots, floppy ears, and all! Although he looked like it Charlie was no ordinary bunny, oh no, for Charlie belonged to the very special city of Bunning-ton, a special city that was hidden away from the likes of humans for centuries. The Bunnies of Bunning-ton had a very special duty, they were in charge of making sure the season of spring would come on time.
Charlie set out from his cozy and cluttered Rabbit hole to the outside world, taking his makeshift backpack and sharpened carrot sword his father once held. On his way he went towards the outer forest, when he came across signs warning him of the danger he was about to face. Many Bunnies who left Bunning-ton never returned, or never returned in good health. Elder Bunnies still tell the horrifying stories today of what the Jack Rabbit Bandits are capable of, not to mention the Havana Bunny Mafia lurking about (those are an enemy for another story for a different day).
Charlie no less was the son of one of the most important rabbits in all of Bunning-ton, Rey Hoppy Hopkins. Mr. Hopkins was an honored war hero in the fight against all the enemies of spring, helping keep all the bunnies in the bustling metropolis safe. Sadly Mr. Hopkins Hopped on to the cloudy bunny heaven in the sky after tangling with a few too many Jack Rabbit Bandits in the second Winter War. Still, Mr. Hopkins lived on in the bouncing hearts of many, his legacy still stands today, with a statue placed in the center of the town.
Charlie wasn’t scared one bit for the first few hours of hopping, well not until he was met with his first bandit. He knew that walking along the dirt patch path was going to lead him to the Bandit hideout known as Kindleton in a few days’ time. What he didn’t know was that the Bandits were this close to the city.
So Charlie had so much to live up to now you see, but unfortunately Charlie was nothing like his father. Charlie was very clumsy and curious, always slipping himself into trouble. On top of all that, he was the laughing stock of his community, for he could never jump as high as the others. Charlie couldn’t help it though, for he had what the bunny-Docs called “bum bounce leg”. Since he was a little infant bunny being taken care of his father he could never hop to his fullest potential. Even so, Charlie decided that he would never let that stop him, he would gain the respect of every bunny in Bunning-ton. So he was going to avenge his father, by doing away with the biggest, meanest Jack Rabbit Bandit that ever
“Give me everything you got, or I’ll be feeding you to the foxes.” Said the bandit drawing his carrot blade, having a stench of old rotting carrots. “I’m afraid I cannot, you see I must be on way to Kindleton, and I cannot allow myself to be distracted good sir.” Charlie spoke nervously, he knew that no amount of kind words could ever persuade someone like the bandit.
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As quick as a lightning bolt the bandit struck out towards Charlie, but he missed, and not because Charlie dodged. No it was blocked by the bandit’s own blockheadedness when he saw the most
stunning female bunny he ever laid eyes on. As the bandit gawked at the Lady-bunny Charlie saw he’s chance to strike. So he drew he’s blade and lashed at the bandit with all he’s might, releasing a fiery battle cry.
ly still hopping along the path.
There the bandit lay defeated on the path. It was now Charlie’s turn to gawk at the Lady-bunny.
The two bunnies set off to Kindleton. Fighting valiantly alongside each other and becoming great friends. Charlie felt like he finally had someone he could call his mate, and Becca felt the same way. Through Bandit campsites and hideouts they slashed there way through with their carrot blades, vanquishing all those high rank bandits like Slack Ears, Round Hopper, and even the notorious 3 Eared Reggie!
“Well alright, maybe there will be a couple gentle-bunnies that’d like to take me out for some carrot juice along the way.” Becca hopped alongside Charlie.
“Hello? Excuse me? Are you alright?” The Lady-bunny hollered and waved at Charlie, trying to shake him at of his trance. “Um yes, yes of course. Thank you.” Charlie finally replied. Holstering his carrot while he began to make his way down the path.
When they finally approached Kindleton they were met with dozens of bandit bunnies each and every one of them equipped with an arsenal of veggie weapons. It took some absolute strength and all their willpower to defeat the minions of Ravi. What with their Broccoli clubs and Beet mortars, the bandit force seemed almost impossible to defeat!
“So where are you headed? My name is Becca by the way.” She followed. “That’s a very unusual name. Where I am going is none of your business.” Charlie didn’t need anyone following him, or anyone getting hurt. “Oh don’t be so rude, if I’m not mistaken I saved your life. Now what’s your name?”
That was until the Bunny Bashers of Bunning-ton heard about Charlie’s courageous effort to defeat Ravi and avenge his father, they had rushed on through the amazingly cleared out dirt passage way Charlie and Becca had left for them. Once they arrived upon Kindleton they immediately reinforced Charlie with Green Bean Cannons and helped defeat every last minion, leaving Ravi the rabbit cowering in his rabbit hole. Quickly but surely meeting his demise.
“Charlie, and you didn’t save my life. That bandit was nothing.” “Please, if not for me you could have lost an ear! You still haven’t told me where we’re going.” She said proudly. Charlie himself knew this to be true. Maybe she could be helpful. Charlie thought as he gazed at her, she was a beautiful bunny yes, but she also carried a blade, which meant she knew how to fight.
Charlie and Becca forged on having new adventures, exploring the sandy planes and grassy fields while even making new friends, but those are different stories for another time. Now I must hop away, I have other stories to tell.
“I’m on my way to Kindleton.”
Becca stopped in place. “Kindleton? As in Ravi the bandit’s home?”
“Yes ma’am.” He exclaimed, proud-
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-Alex Vazquez
The Predator
She was a Lion, Ready to attack her prey at any given moment. I was a gazelle; in my eyes I thought I was a lion. She only wanted to hurt me and I wanted to love her. She tore my heart to pieces, walking away as it was her habit. I was left alone to face my slow death, while she was on the hunt again. Why wasn’t I a lion too? Would she have loved me the way I loved her? I was just another heart to break. It was her lifestyle; I wish I could’ve changed her As she continues hunting I’ll always remember the eyes that once looked at me with tenderness. Now it’s cold.
- Ciera Farrell 62
Blood Red We are born without fur So we steal if from others, Silencing their purrs, Skinning their mothers. Then we soak it in dyes To cover our lies Of cruelty and shame So we may have a taste of fame. Clothes might express who we are But must we really go as far As to kill everything in our path; An endless blood bath In the name of fashion. If we are too carefree And lack compassion All that will be left is you or me. 63
-John Corredor
Oh Moon
Oh moon, why are you so bright? It’s you I look up to Enchanting all the night. To rise up to your height My dream would all come true Oh moon, why are you so bright? You’re always in my sight Without you, what would I do? Enchanting all the night. In darkness you’re my light Hustling wind blowing through Oh moon, why are you so bright. In my heart I hold you so tight, This love makes me new Enchanting all the night. This attraction I can’t fight You make me red while I’m blue, Oh moon, why are you so bright? Enchanting all the night. - Leah Peretz
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La Lune La Lune et une fleur blanche parmi l’herbe noire Malheureusement sa gloire doit toujours passer Elle couvre la terre dans ses rayons divins de blancJusqu’à ce que le soleil se lève et brille Une fois la terre somber et horrible Maintenant éclairée par la main d’Artemis celeste Elle est attirée par les cerfs sombres Comme elle passe, connaître son frère est proche -Juan Gomez The Moon The moon is white flower among black grass Sadly her glory must always come to pass She covers the earth in godly rays of whiteUntil the sun rises and shines bright Once a horrid dark land Now lit by the celestial Artemis’s hand Drawn is she by dusky deer As she passes, know her brother is near -Juan Gomez 65
Day Eight By the time I got there, You had already passed. My whole face was wet with tears Thinking about our last…
Our last kiss in your car, Even though you never told me you cared. I thought about that candy bar On the second day that we shared.
It was hard looking back, Knowing that probably all you ever wanted was to hook up. I just wanted the memories to turn to black. I was in love with you like a lovesick pup.
I actually had feelings For you and didn’t just want sex. I wanted a relationship with meaning, But you didn’t want commitment, it was too complex.
Now you’re gone. I don’t know whether to be sad And move on Or to be mad.
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- Rebecca Saltzman
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