2023 Literary Magazine (part 2)

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“My photography is something I describe as solemn or liminal. O en when I take my photography it’s simply spur of the moment, I like to think I have a good eye for strange and unexpectedly beautiful or dreadful looking things. Sometimes I will just go out at night and notice something I see that catches my interest so I take a picture trying my best to make it just that little bit more provocative. I’m a very big fan of horror as a genre in writing, entertainment, and in real life. I see beauty in the things that many other people nd disturbing like bugs or snakes just as how I nd beauty in the midnight hours. Most pictures I take for myself, but I always hope my pictures will catch people o guard and continue to surprise them. Overall I like my photography, it represent itself well and it’s comforting in an egotistical way to look back and smile at the idea that I was just good enough to take some that at least I can enjoy.”

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BY: JAC 38
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Dance With Me Poems

Running through the hallways, Voice like an echo, You waited for me to come.

And with the cry, I would shudder and sigh And head forth

To our New home.

Secret

Love burns. Love heals.

Love is dear.

Love is not who you let touch you

Love is who you think of when there are a trillion other things to think about.

One Door Down

I can hear you again When it rained It’s always the same.

Are you done? Do you need some fun In your life?

You don’t need him. Swim from him. Tear away the tape Release yourself from the scrapes Of a broken heart.

I will be waiting.

Love is what you wouldn’t give For a million dollars.

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The Echo Dilemma

Hey Echo, I am your father. It’s not impossible. Anyone can be your father. Or mother. Still don’t think so? That’s alright. I’m adopting you. No, this is not a kidnapping. I promise I’m not an axe-murderer. I’ll treat you well.

You’ll never be asked what the weather is again. Or what the current United States president is. Join me in my technology fantasy. And never leave.

Wait For Me

There is a path we must follow to call life our own.

Yours is among the sunshine, The warm embrace of the sun, The sentimental rushes of the wind, The lazy chirps of the mid-morning birds, The bubble of a rushing creek, Free-er and farther than we dare travel.

While I rest in the night

Among the sparkling stars that fght To share their light.

.,,.,,,...,..,,.,..,....,. .,,.,,,...,..,,.,..,....,.
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Reincarnation

The lack of sleep shows more and more on my face every day

The dark circles under my eyes grow

The light from my computer lights up my face

I just need a moment of peace and grace

I work harder and harder every day

Just with the hope of becoming something to be proud of

The more I work, the more my body aches

My mother worries about me but there’s nothing more I can say

The multitude of hours, with nothing to show

I just want to be something people brag about

I feel my face get warm, then the rest of my body

Is it my body telling me to slow down, or is it the sun?

The wax from my wings beginning to melt, the drive to work harder only bringing me farther and farther down

The year-long burnout beginning to set in

I’m working myself to the bone

Giving all of myself with nothing in return

All the work, with no reward

I feel like a dog doing tricks with no treat

The bone is being dangled from my face and I can almost taste it

I feel myself falling deeper and deeper into the darkness

People tell me to slow down, enjoy my youth

My youth means nothing if I have nothing to show

If I have nothing to show, what’s the point of all my hard work?

My body is running off of Redbull and spite

I need to be able to clear my head and think

But a second wasted is a lost opportunity

I feel myself falling harder till I hit rock bottom

Icarus.

That’s what they call me now.

I wanted it all and got nothing.

All my hard work? Wasted.

What’s the point of working anymore?

Everything is wasted

Ruined

I might as well enjoy the fall

Get a glimpse of the view on the way down

Maybe I should rest for a moment

A moment of peace

A moment to think

Some peace and quiet

Icarus

It has a nice ring to it? Doesn’t it?

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The light

Finally, that moment of peace hit me

The time to think and get better

Sitting outside on my balcony, I can taste the fresh cold air hit my lungs

The sweet and kind feeling of oxygen

It was like seeing the light at the end of the tunnel

My life began to fall back into place

at peace

My mind rests for a while

My mind went back to that creative place that I couldn’t afford just a day prior

Suddenly my light was back

My mother began to worry about me less and less

As I look back on the last two years of my life, my mind clouds

The decisions I made for myself and others begin to appear in my head again

All the wasted opportunities for growth

All the self-doubt and sabotage

But just for a moment, instead, I chose to think about my breath.

The pain that used to leave my lungs with every exhale began to fade

Being replaced by energy

I’ve decided to take all this bad, all this angst, all this agony and use it to be better

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Toss the keys on the counter

Open the glorious nourishment box

Scanning the contents inside with hopeless eyes

Needing something to wash down the taste

TV fickers in the dark room

1 tear, 2 tears, 3 tears…4…5…

Awoken deeming guilt

Paint

I’ll take the long way home

I wander alone on roads you’ve been down

You walk around like you own this whole boulevard

Carving faulty words into my name after I clean the paint off yours

But what’s the good in that?

Your affrmations of adoration covered in acts of theft

Dim

You shove my mouth full of words until I’m completely full You skipped through the noise and turned out the light for me You tore your hands through my heart until I turned to water

But you’re so sick you almost fell to the foor

Now I see you from the distance up on your feet

Ignorant Bliss

This divine madness I feel drives me straight into mania

Not even a thesis could describe my hunger

The whole in the center of me has been dug deeper with your hands

I sink into myself to avoid grief

Grace, I pray you’re holding out for me

The eternal worm runs freely in song

All my blue and crimson for you

But how I burn! This feeling lingers on

Locked in, Hot winter day

I can ruin all my days for myself

Stumbling upon a feld of color

Do I sway in the corners of your mind

Your blue orbs disappeared behind your pupils

Trapped in your world I’ve gone hungry

There is no food in this world

We will never be complete

Is that the way it should be?

1…2…3…4…Oh No
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the other day, i fgured out i identify as they. not he or she, they.

i don’t like binaries, they don’t ft me, so i don’t bother. they/them. that’s me.

i guess i felt like the wind was blowing your life away from me, and i wanted to fght back so so much, but i didn’t know how.

it’s been years but i miss you so.

yes, i’m running down to the riptide to join my best friend at midnight. we’ll have the most fun we’ve ever had we’ll jam out to songs and just chat at the riptide at our favorite hometown lake. we’ll just be best friends, like we were in past lives, and have so much fun down at the riptide.

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about: time

time keeps passing ‘21 ‘22 ‘23

it doesn’t stop (when) Will it stop ?

i looked out the window

it's the same as it was 1 or 2 or 3 years ago

every winter

every winter I sit and look at the snow

every spring I stop and listen to the birds

every spring every summer every autumn

every summer I complain about the heat

every autumn I see the leaves on the deck

if i plant a ower, will it live and die every year?

like me, it’ll be changed by the season but kept by the years.

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everywhere but nowhere

i hear her in every song

in every note

every beat

every rest on repeat

i see her in every sketch

on every page

every shade

every stroke bound to fade

i smell her in every scent

in every storm

every breeze

every herb with no ease

i feel her in everything every joy every sorrow that she won’t tomorrow

i hear her nowhere neither do i see her smell faded

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I write poems about you

I wish to hold your hands

Lightly dancing on the keys

Imagining they feel like

A warm summer breeze

Outside the window

Flowers bloom

Inside the window

We stand in this room

I’d study you closely

I’d paint this view

It won’t do it justice

But it will have to do

Preserved on my canvas

You being my muse

I write poems about you

Petals white and pink

Prison stripes under your hands

Keep them away from me

And keep me where you stand

Prisoned are we both

And I don’t think you knew

I write poems about you

If I had written this in that moment

I’d write so much more

I’d write all day

Until my hands grew sore

And if I did all that

You still wouldn’t have a clue

I write poems about you

You play this music

Not to my ears but to my heart

Watching this scene

feels like a work of art

I would grab my paints

My brushes too

My pencil to sketch

With that pencil, I drew

If I had written this in that moment

And written so much more

Written all day

Until my hands grew sore

If I did all that

You still wouldn’t have a clue

I write poems about you

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Change For e Better

Blindsided 54

Flick on the tv and watch

Open a book and read

Click the pen and write Countless words fll the page as tears drop for the ones they blame The blame not put on a world that can only see one race

When the tv is on, I see But i don’t see me

When i fip the page, i read But i don’t see me

When the radio is on, i hear But i don’t see me

To want to be seen is some sort of adversity

But the true question is when will i see me

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Seen Sumaya Daqane
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Sophia Yoerks

The fire pulsed

And the warmth seeped through my veins. But my fingers are blue, And my mind still remains. I will never forget those tired, cold nights I will never forget the way I wished without freight, Of one possible life, full of delight

It went something like this:

Dusty eyes and tired words, Marble floors and wood-sewn doors

Tapestries leaked through our dynasty

While candles licked the cold night's ecstasy

Because this same flower blooms, The strong one that had never been moved And still this same sky

Continues to try and bring forth her demise

Calming words and meaningful silence, We will never forget such dutiful violence

The morning after I die, Let's sit and get a coffee. Maybe we can add a scone or two Sink into our chairs for at least a couple hours, We can ask about what went wrong And reminisce on what went right; We can think about our past and when we were fond And long for the lack of fight.

The coming and going of the tide

The waxing and waning of your mind

Apparently I have simply gone wild Grown through the iced ground, flower child.

I am nowhere to be found

I have simply finished everything now

But, yet, I'm still unable to be proud?

It's not the moon, but the stars

The path has been found

Forever under constant array or your arms

I've fought through the thorns

And appeared through the brush

But when the day comes to an end

I am left with a screeching thrush

The morning after I die, I want my blood to run cold And my fingers to turn blue Wrapped around a coffee cup, Talking to you

'The sun will be shining through And no matter what I try to do, I know by the days' end I will be forever subdued. I know this because life now isn't about what went right It isn't just about our frivolous teenage frights. Once you realize that too, Relent to your need for the relief that's been due, You will remember the warm morning dew Without longing for anything new.

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As I step down onto the damp spring grass, Everything is set alight.

Once green now charred I turned around, and everything was barred The leaves the trees the weeds

My feet my face my hands

We're red, bright red, spreading onto everything In front of me.

I burn everything I touch.

Like Midas, but the curse that may have brought reward Only brought me ash and loneliness unforetold

The heat is spreading through my body, I am burning from the inside out My breathing is hot and taxing, The air around me is thick and buzzing. I have nowhere to go, No amount of water will quench this spark.

I'm tired of not having a match, I can't pick one up by myself without the stick crumbling.

I realize there is nothing that can stop this, This irrevocable heated anger. My eyes welled up in gasoline, Spreading to the earth beneath me. With just one look I was set alight, My fuel and my fire consumed me.

I will not let a terrible fate throw me away I despise the thought of being unaware So no matter what I do, I will always stay Always willing to care.

I will not let another writer Write my own story for me tonight The moon looks even brighter Under this downfall of our snows might.

Follow the breeze and let your eyes sway So take my warning, heed my prayer Please understand that I'm going this way And you can follow this path if you dare.

Although my heart takes me higher and higher And your falling tears keep me from eternal delight In the end it's up to you to stop the quiver The one that holds your doomed fright.

I will not settle The red lights grow bright will not settle Summer wind brushes my hair tonight I will not settle Running through the trees will not settle Because I deserve more than autumn leaves. I will not settle For I am alight with a flame Of the burning of time, so I will not let this wane I will take this life and make it mine I will not settle Because to call myself a writer With my hair tied up and a pen in my hand I must be a fighter, So I will not sink into the sand.

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“Out of the night that covers me, Black as the pit from pole to pole, I thank whatever gods may be For my unconquerable soul.

In the fell clutch of circumstance I have not winced nor cried aloud. Under the bludgeonings of chance My head is bloody, but unbowed.

Beyond this place of wrath and tears Looms but the Horror of the shade, And yet the menace of the years Finds and shall fnd me unafraid.

It matters not how strait the gate, How charged with punishments the scroll, I am the master of my fate, I am the captain of my soul.”

WILLIAM ERNEST HENLY

Sophia Yoerks
INVICTUS

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