NY Writers Coalition Press Writing from youth at the Brooklyn Public Library, Coney Island Branch 1
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Learning to Make Fire Winter 2012
Writing by youth at the Brooklyn Public Library, Coney Island Branch
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Copyright Š 2012 NY Writers Coalition Inc. Upon publication, copyright to individual works returns to the authors. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED Editor: Cait Weiss, Nancy L. Weber Layout: Nancy L. Weber Cover Art: Marleen Gainey
Learning to Make Fire contains writing by the members of a creative writing workshop conducted by NY Writers Coalition Inc. at the Brooklyn Public Library, Coney Island Branch, an after-school sanctuary for the young people of the community. The workshops nurture and celebrate young people’s brave and exciting voices through the art of creative writing. NY Writers Coalition thanks the following supporters, without whom this writing workshop and anthology would not exist: Amazon.com, Brooklyn Community Foundation, Kalliopeia Foundation, the NYC Department of Cultural Affairs, Two West Foundation, the Union Square Awards, the WellMet Group, and all our individual donors, attendees of our annual WriteA-Thon and especially NY Writers Coalition members Paul & Mary Feinberg, Mark Munger, John Bolotsky, Sophie McManus and Diana Son & Family. NY Writers Coalition Inc. is a not-for-profit organization that provides free creative writing workshops throughout New York City for people from groups that have been historically deprived of voice in our society. For more information about NY Writers Coalition Inc.: NY Writers Coalition Inc. 80 Hanson Place #603 Brooklyn, NY 11217 (718) 398-2883 info@nywriterscoalition.org www.nywriterscoalition.org
For more information on the Brooklyn Public Library,visit www.brooklynlibrary.org
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Introduction Respect. Kindness. Verve. Style. I showed up in Coney Island ready to lead writing workshops for local teens; I ended up in awe of the human spirit, its dignity, its courage and its grace. The poems and prose in the following pages are glorious, funny, brutal, hopeful and true. So are the kids. I should hardly be surprised but I have to admit: these teenagers floored me. Before I’d been assigned the New York Public Library Coney Island Branch, before I’d been given the workshop with teens, I’d been hoping for rehab patients, prisoners, hard-skinned warriors with axes to grind through rhythm, through rhyme. Instead I got Coney. I wasn’t disappointed, just a little confused. Teenagers? I’d wanted people who had stories beyond my wildest fantasies. Crazy tales of longing and violence, deep themes of destruction and regret. Apparently I forgot what being a teenager is all about. What being a person is all about: exploration; truth; and claiming one’s own voice. 5
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These writers have more heart on their sleeve than I’d have ever believed and they own it. From break-ups to petty theft to unrequited love, real life blooms in their phrases. The work I’ve seen here inspires me to follow their lead, write fiercely, look closely, share truly, and refuse to be ashamed of being human, of knowing heartbreak, rejection or, the most vulnerable emotion, hope. Every week I get a dose of that last concept: hope. Not just in these singular, outstanding kids who choose every Wednesday to put down the Magic decks, the iPhones, the McNuggets and write, but hope in what we’re here for: authentic and empowering human expression. The right to feel. To share. To explore. To grow. Thank you to Diana Barranca, Angela Barnes and the entire staff at the Brooklyn Public Library, Coney Island Branch for their support of this workshop and for all that they do to enrich the lives of the young people who flock to their local library for a safe space to meet and be inspired. I am so incredibly proud of the work in this book. Take a look. You’ll see why. I 6
showed up in Coney Island ready to lead – and I keep showing up beyond grateful to follow. Cait Weiss Winter 2012
We’re learning to make fire But not using our hands -from “Learning to Make Fire” by Crystelle McKayla
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MUSIC ;) SARAH AVILES, AGE 15 Someone finally understands you They know what you’re going through And they want to tell you that it’s ok to laugh And it’s ok to cry And it’s ok to say what lies deep inside I know I am not you And you are not me But we are together Stitched by lyrics forever Song by song Heart to heart That sound you can’t get out of your head The one that you hear before you crawl into bed That one moment That one last thought An answer from you to me This is what music can really be
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WHAT SARAH SAID SARAH AVILES Stuck on the words The last ones she said I guess she felt forgotten But she’s the only one in my head She told me she was in love with me I was too dumb to see But she’s gone Never to be with me again Gone, but her words still here I now sit on the edge of my bed Stuck on the words Sarah said
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CALL IT ART SARAH AVILES Every movement felt like a dance A color once so sheer Has now taken a stance. You can call it silly Or you can call it art. But not even an eraser Can tear these lines apart. It’s not something everyone can admire Although some try. It’s not the least understandable Leaving raised hopes high. It’s just a painting, If you only knew. It was just portraying emotion, For the love they drew.
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LIVING CHENELLE BERMUDEZ, AGE 15 To live is to die. To die is to live again. But never living isn’t a life at all.
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KISS ME OR BE BITTEN CHENELLE BERMUDEZ Luna Park, a fun new playground for kids to go crazy, for teens to have fun together and adults to be a kid again. Nobody really knows what goes on behind the scenes. People don’t know about some of the workers at Luna Park. Some of the workers are werewolves, vampires and much much more. When they have their eyes on something or SOMEONE then you better watch out or you might be bitten.
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THE STRANGE CANDY CHENELLE BERMUDEZ The strange candy is looking for me. The strange candy has a smile on its face. The strange candy is something to eat. That strange candy is just too crazy. That strange candy likes to hunt. That strange candy thinks it’s human. That strange candy gets out of hand. That strange candy goes after girls and boys. Wherever you are you better move away from that strange candy. Watch out that strange candy is right behind you.
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UNTITLED LAMONT BRYANT, AGE 17 I stand alone inside this cave Needing help but I can’t be saved Losing family, I swear I’ll behave She stole my heart at this rave She kicked me out and called me a knave I’m only a slave to my childhood fame My friends laugh and call me lame Living my life, I guess I’m the one to blame My heart stays the same, but cannot be tame Trying to find my name in this rain As they and she leave this train I’m starting to feel this pain Wanting to ask for a cane Crying so hard I think I might be insane
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ICE WATER JAYMES DIAZ, AGE 17 Ice water in her veins like the heart in her body. She’s too hard to talk to so I’m stuck outside waiting for her to open up but I’m not waiting for this so I plan to punch my way into this wall she’s put up over and over again. I hit this wall the hard fist and stiff kicks and not one crack not one scratch nothing it’s as it was before. My hands r bloody now and I wipe it on the wall hoping that she will take my offering. I stay awake late just to break her walls down. I no longer can move my hand and legs aren’t moving so I’m laid out on the floor with the view of this big black and blue or maybe purple and grey wall. So I talk to the wall with its icy blue bricks and grey concrete. As I talk to it I see a crack and then another but I’m sure she doesn’t see what I see. She would talk about zombies before these walls come down. I think this is it, I’m dying. I feel so cold. I guess my veins r icy now.
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EVIL THOUGHTS JAYMES DIAZ When I am… Whenever I’ll be evil I’ll laugh at people who have problems. Manipulative and a master at my craft. I have you breaking down emotionally while I walk away. I’ll encourage you all to cut yourself, and to fight people for no good reason. Master Manipulator will be my title. None will be spared. Why should I care for people who don’t? So I hype you to jump off that building and inject yourself… Ooo what was that? You want me to meet your friends? Wait we can have a party of losers – I mean awesome people I’ll get guns and you get the beer. We can have the best day. Honestly you can all die because you are so lost in yourself and don’t care about anyone not even animals in the wild help one another out once in a while. None of you. Grow the hell up.
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THE EYE OF THE BEHOLDER JAYMES DIAZ This house is something that should not be. It’s not what you think this is. Just walking in makes me weak and feeble. The deeper you walk the more this house seems to talk to me. I hate this house. People rarely come inside. The years of hate I’ve radiated out of my body onto this house would make anyone die. No this house is not a home. So I lock myself in my room where the evil can’t go where the rage doesn’t emerge. I’ve been mistreated in this house and these walls don’t lie. I think this is the lowest moment of my day. But when I leave that house I feel a piece of me return almost like a dream catcher. One day I’ll put my touch upon the grip of this house. The muscle of growth of the decade and seven years will be tested beyond their limits. It’s time to break the walls down when I bring the light of the gods into this unholy pit.
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I AM NOT‌ BEGO FERNTOVIC, AGE 17 I am not the guy who eats ice cream everyday I am the guy who loves chicken People think I look like Dobby from Harry Potter but inside I am a white kid My teachers think I am responsible but at home I am lazy My parents think I am a brat but really I am a brat I am not a girl I am a boy who plays sports I am Bego
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SIREN MARLEEN GAINEY Before I was below the surface, the sea water danced around my tongue as I lounged around the boat. She sang a tune, a haunted melody of a life beyond us, where the sun meets the moon to celebrate past hardships. Before I was below the surface, she made promises of pinks and yellows, of eternal peace. She held out her hand to dance. Her hand, pale and wet, glistening underneath the afternoon sun became entangled in my own. Before I was below the surface, the sensation of her hands sliding up my chest made me forget how to breathe. Her sly smile was the last thing I saw.
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CONSISTENCY MARLEEN GAINEY As the ocean air grazed his skin, he knew that he would miss this place. His tan fingers wrapped around the pier’s railing and he sharply inhaled, taking in as much salty air as he could. After all, this was the last time he’d be able to do that for a while. It was going to feel like forever although it would only be for a few months. The next time he’d be home was for Thanksgiving but by then, it would be too cold to wander the pier in a tank top, shorts and flip flops. Maybe he could have told his friends to tag along, since he wouldn’t see them for a while. Maybe he needed to be on the old pier one last time to watch the ocean. He needed to confirm that the last thing he saw wouldn’t change when he got back. Shouldn’t his friends stay the same? Given the sequence of events that occurred months prior to summer vacation, nothing would be the same. A short week after 20
coming home, fights and break ups were the current trends in this group. As expected, it didn’t involve him. It never did. At the rate his friends were burning bridges, anything was subjected to change. And he didn’t like change. That's what brought him to the pier. The planks have been repaired but it’s still a pier. The ocean, regardless of anything that could and would happen to it, will forever remain an ocean. It was consistency and all he needed at that point in his life which consisted of him entering his sophomore year of college was consistency. It was all he could ever ask for.
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WHEN I OPEN MY EYES NAYQUAN JONES, AGE 17 When I open my eyes I can see how some people act… When I open my eyes I can see how my mother slacks… When I open my eyes I can see true love… When I open my eyes I hope my life changes… When I open my eyes I realize I should have helped… When I open my eyes I wish I was there… When I open my eyes I wish it was a dream… When I open my eyes I see careless people…
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I AM BETSY BETSY MARTINEZ, AGE 15 I am not the girl who trusts people I am the girl who loves chocolate People think that I look like an innocent person but inside I am the one who is the worst My teachers think I am strange but good but at home I am a person who is fat and watches too much TV My parents think I’m annoying but really I am trustworthy I am not mean I am self-conscious I am Betsy
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LOVE AT ITS STRONGEST CRYSTELLE MCKAYLA, AGE 14 Baby it’s not too late To have this final embrace We don’t care about the negatives Just our hearts beating to the sounds of love Let’s not ask why it’s not right This moment won’t last forever And tonight the dimmed Lights will tell us if we’re meant to be together My love, I never wanted to say goodbye Just soft smiles, no lies Animosity is caving in But sweetheart our love will always win But I guess it’s too hard for people to get This modern-day play of Romeo and Juliet
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LEARNING TO MAKE FIRE CRYSTELLE MCKAYLA We’re learning to make fire But not using our hands Simply it’s inside of us So we try to make amends We’re learning to make fire For all who are cold Who don’t know the difference between silver and gold Your heart is gold and You shine silver in the light We’re all beautiful, there’s no need for fright We are the beauty that bleeds out passion We think outside the box, No need to settle with that simple fashion We open the gates of Heaven and lock the gates of hell We are the fire burning inside of us and it’s in you as well
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SECRETS TO BEAUTY CRYSTELLE MCKAYLA Ice water in her veins Skin as perfect as a porcelain doll Hair is curled and beautiful People says she’s one of the prettiest of them all inside she holds a secret it’s boiling in her blood her secret has to be revealed she must, she must, she must a splash of water to her face to remove that shiny porcelain look rips out the hair extensions because those hairs didn’t grow from her roots she lifts up her bangs that big bold forehead of hers stitches holding it together, yet again almost popping out as you can see she tries to be as perfect as possible the girl you see is trying so hard to be the person you want and expect her to be 26
MAYBE YES, MAYBE NO TIFFANY MCKENZIIEE OLSON, AGE 13 Maybe yes Maybe no In this labyrinth Which way I go Tossing turning Unsteady breathing My only untrue Wish to not stop believing What am I doing? I’m living a lie Wishing to be on The other side. Wishing for love Wishing for perfection But what looks back Is an unsteady complexion. Trouble is like a GPS It always finds me Going incognito might just be Maybe No Maybe yes Stop my worries. This is just Life’s test.
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UNDER SKIN AND BONES TIFFANY MCKENZIIEE OLSON Punch a wall, watch you fall, watch you crawl Rip your hair out Breathe unsteady beats Knock out your teeth Look beneath The mess you created for yourself But why do this to yourself? But why ask this question? You are not you And I am not me We are all souls with no families. Watching decisions that you don’t make We’re just looking at roles skin and bones take All smeared makeup due to risky breakup Razorblade your lips, Rip off your tips But cry Cry Cry all you want 28
we’re just under some skin and bones but we’re really just souls with no families.
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THE DOLL IN THE BACK OF YOUR CLOSET TIFFANY MCKENZIIEE OLSON Ice water in her veins she lays, still like a porcelain doll, in the back of your closet. Frozen in time. Her eyes so tranquilizing. She gazes at you. It’s not like she can look anywhere else because she’s stiff. Say goodbye. To her well dancing spirit. She danced under the lights. The streetlights. The city lights. The world. But everything came crashing down so suddenly, An event filled with difference variance shocking. And that’s how she was left till he came along. Like fire. A boy looking for love 30
A girl looking for life Looking for hope. So say goodbye to the porcelain doll in the back of your closet she’s out. She’s dancing under the lights. The street lights. The city lights. The world. For which she is the well dancing spirit.
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PROMISES, PROMISES LUZ PARENTE, AGE 16 Promises, promises You promise me rainbows You gave me dark skies Promises, promises You promised you’d love me But did you at all? Promises, promises At least mine are true Promises promises I’m stupid enough to still love you
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WE ARE LEARNING TO MAKE FIRE LUZ PARENTE We are learning to make fire Because the old one went out Put to sleep by your dismay & my shame Let’s let the embers embrace Rekindle the flames We are learning to make fire Gain back long lost desires Dream for today, make for tomorrow
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FAKE LOVE GABRIEL PRIMUS, AGE 15 This word “love” does it exist? Is that word real? That word is really annoying I pity that word so much In my life lived on this dreaded earth that word I hear sometimes fills me with anger sometimes I wanna say it’s your imagination sometimes I wanna vomit in people’s faces But the sad thing about it all I have failed I have let that person that one person felt like the only girl the only girl in the world But after I’ve felt her stomping on my little heart I look at relationships as zombies having hot kinky sex.
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DEATHLESS NIGHT GABRIEL PRIMUS On a dark moonlit night The full moon is out Smiling in the night Alone in my house In the middle of nowhere My house beheld an asylum The deaths ruthless but I don’t care Spirits pass here and there Their breathing still there My book interesting as I read more People walking around my door My room quiet but a party downstairs Nobody there but spirits in the air They said I wouldn’t last two days in the valley Been here for three years without a scare Seeing the spirits walking here and there Never to say I was a spirit as well walking here and there. I have the power!!!!!! 35
SADNESS OF IT ALL GABRIEL PRIMUS OK, so there’s this kid Mark he’s like everybody, kinda he’s dark his whole life he wore that ring the ring he wore his whole life to bring His father he lost since he was three Back then everything was fine until the clock turned 3 finding his father on the bed bleeding and little Markus crying Days go by without having a father figure his mom tries to help but all they do is argue Before slamming the door and going to cut he looked at his ring and thought…but Finding hanging steadily over the floor still wearing the ring, after locking the door Now he’s in happiness with his father left alone with no one to bother.
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PERFECT LOVERS CONNECTED ROBERT QUINONES Today’s our anniversary and that’s how it goes, I’ve seen you in every way but I love you in clothes. You’re my star and I’m your sky. It’s the best feeling when I see you when I close my eyes. This feeling for me is very rare, I always love when I’m sad you’re always there To cheer me up whenever I’m down, And when I see you, it’s so hard to frown. I’ve searched for this feeling high and low, And when we kiss each other I never go with the flow Because we just have that chemistry, And it’s because our love just has that good symmetry. And my voice is the first in the morning, And the last at night. My heart is forever soaring, And my soul is in flight.
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HATE TO LOVE ROBERT QUINONES I love to hate. And I hate to love. Love chooses your fate. When push comes to shove. Why do I shed these tears of blood? She’s the reason I hate to love. She’s stabbed me for the last time. All I know she’s never gonna pass my mind. All those times you saved me from myself. Now the love for you stays parked on the shelf. Once we had love now we have pain. This is a feeling that I must claim. Last night you put my love through the shredder. Now my love for you will always be never. I love to hate. And I hate to love. Love chooses your fate. When push comes to shove. I remember when our love were doves. So pure but so dark.
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So what you’ve done you’ve left your mark. I love the fact that the heart is broken. Now my heart can never be stolen. I love to hate. Love chooses your fate. When push comes to shove.
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SUMMER IN PRISON BRANDON ROMAN, AGE 16 The leaves on the trees all began to grow. The light that flashed through my window sparkled emerald green. I flashed back to reality. I was in the prison of hope. I remember what I was here to do. GARY! I yelled. I had to free him. When the nuts took over the nut house Gary got caught. And I was alone. Calvin. Is that you? Gary? It’s me. I’m busting you out. You have the key? No, but I can damn sure pick a lock
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WE MET BRANDON ROMAN So you created us? Yup. You? Yup. I was expecting more, Calvin said. So who are you again? asked Devin. I’m Brandon Roman. I’m a college student who majors in philosophy. In my spare time I create you guys. So you can cure the Zombie plague I’m dealing with? said Caleb. Or revive my family? Calvin asked. Or give me a peaceful life, asked Devin. Guys. Kill all those monsters? Angel said. No! Guys that’s not how it works. I create the world. Then I just see what happens. I can change it sometimes. Nothing that big though. Some creator, Calvin said. Hey! To be honest all I ask is a week when nothing tries to eat me. I can do that, Angel. I woke up. I looked at the can of Monster. I gotta stop drinking this crap. .
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UNTITLED BRANDON ROMAN I once dreamt I was in a fight. I was fighting a girl. She was really hurting me. I got this feeling she wanted to kill me. I fought as hard as I could. She started screaming I’m gonna kill you. I’m gonna kill you. So as we fought, I pissed myself. I took one last swing and she fell down the biggest hill. So many rocks and metal things. She got really hurt. I started to cry. She said she did it because she thought I was the one who raped her. I felt bad because I knew she’d think of him if I got close. I started to cry. And prayed she’d be fine.
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OPEN YOUR EYES RAYMOND RUIZ the man squeezes her thighs up, up to fly grab her hair, as the baby stares open your eyes, as the baby cries somebody whispers the sound of a zipper now off the bed gimme head
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$5.00
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