He was there with his cold stare and unreadable face. His hands gracefully slithered down the small of my back. Whether the embrace was passionate or oppressive, it left my body feeling numb and my head sore.
How do I tell this man I don't want him anymore?As my head falls neatly into his shoulder the thudding heartbeat seems all to familiar. With every word whispered into my ear, my body shakes and he pulls me closer. His eyes become more and more menacingly transparent as he kisses my hand.
Our heartbeats no longer matched as he took me to a new place. Every touch and every look seem to burn with the coldness of his eyes. This is not the man I once knew. With one last shudder I was released from his grip. As his hand slithered down my arm to the fingertip.
There was something else he desired. He went to the table to get us drinks. Through his lips I could hear him say something, but I couldn't understand it. My head was screaming with fear and the want to escape. He put the cup to my lips and I felt the icy chill go down my back. Everything seemed different now. Suddenly everything went black...............
Wednesday, December 27, 2006
Wednesday, December 20, 2006
Wide Open, Anthony Herrera
Five years ago, Rebecca Simon got wind of the worstnews she'd ever gotten in her eleven years of life.While walking the short distance from home to herschool, Becca's father had been the result of drunkdriving. Taking a head-on collision of eighty milesper hour from an SUV, Derek Simon never stood a chanceof survival.Falling into a deep state of grief and anger, KathySimon, Rebecca's mother, blames her daughter for herHusband's death. Unable to cope with the feelings,sheworks several jobs,and neglects Rebecca so much thateven she feels it's her fault her father was killed...
Wide Open
A monologue for a female
My door is wide open. Mother’s standing there in the doorway with the same unfathomable look she wore when we found out what happened to Dad. Why he never came home that night. I sit, gripped to the spot, knife in hand. Big red drops are dripping down my arm. Drip. Drip. Drip. My eyes are locked with hers, except now I realllllly wanna giggle, and currently, that’s a bad idea. I stifle my childish urge, my eyes flicking toward the pink in her hair. Mom never wears pink! Really! I flinch – Mom’s moving, just not towards me. She’s spun around, snatching the door handle along the way. I let my stained knife clatter to the ground, wincing along with my shaking room. I look up, just in time, watching my shelves shake one more time. And with the same bewildered expression when Mom stormed in, I watch it crash to the ground. My door was wide open.
Wide Open
A monologue for a female
My door is wide open. Mother’s standing there in the doorway with the same unfathomable look she wore when we found out what happened to Dad. Why he never came home that night. I sit, gripped to the spot, knife in hand. Big red drops are dripping down my arm. Drip. Drip. Drip. My eyes are locked with hers, except now I realllllly wanna giggle, and currently, that’s a bad idea. I stifle my childish urge, my eyes flicking toward the pink in her hair. Mom never wears pink! Really! I flinch – Mom’s moving, just not towards me. She’s spun around, snatching the door handle along the way. I let my stained knife clatter to the ground, wincing along with my shaking room. I look up, just in time, watching my shelves shake one more time. And with the same bewildered expression when Mom stormed in, I watch it crash to the ground. My door was wide open.
Saturday, December 16, 2006
Stars of a Neighbor; Industrial Giant, Ginny Georgekutty
Stars of a Neighbor
See the stars in the sky
Their glow absent-minded
Of those below
Their eyes look down
With a boastful grin
On top of the world
Yet only one part of the universe
Their presence no greater
Than the rest of ours’
For those stars
Up in that sky
Are being just like us
Trying to survive
Past their ups and downs
With ups that soar above the clouds
And downs that crash onto the earth
In the end
We are all the same
Lives in this world
Just trying to reach our true potential
Industrial Giant
Peace once
Succumbed to its roads
The sand that trailed
Beneath my feet
Peace once
Breathed against my hair
Through the nearest
Spring breeze
Peace once
Stormed across the grass
Bringing forth
Chicken in mid-fright
Peace once
Lived within this place
Recognized as my home
More than anywhere else
Yet where did it all go?
Where is this place
Now hidden beneath
Industrialization
‘Americanism’
That simply corrupted
This place I loved
And turned
To an
Industrial giant
See the stars in the sky
Their glow absent-minded
Of those below
Their eyes look down
With a boastful grin
On top of the world
Yet only one part of the universe
Their presence no greater
Than the rest of ours’
For those stars
Up in that sky
Are being just like us
Trying to survive
Past their ups and downs
With ups that soar above the clouds
And downs that crash onto the earth
In the end
We are all the same
Lives in this world
Just trying to reach our true potential
Industrial Giant
Peace once
Succumbed to its roads
The sand that trailed
Beneath my feet
Peace once
Breathed against my hair
Through the nearest
Spring breeze
Peace once
Stormed across the grass
Bringing forth
Chicken in mid-fright
Peace once
Lived within this place
Recognized as my home
More than anywhere else
Yet where did it all go?
Where is this place
Now hidden beneath
Industrialization
‘Americanism’
That simply corrupted
This place I loved
And turned
To an
Industrial giant
Wednesday, December 13, 2006
Surprise, Anonomyous Contributor
It was a warm, bright sunny day. The cool crisp wind blew against my hair, frizzing upon its' touch. I slowly treaded upto the entrance, the doorway into the school that I, like many others, dreaded entering. It was the same as any other day. Open bag. Remove ID. Close. Swip. Return to nearest location (usually my pocket). Walk up steps. 2nd floor. Locker. Bend down. Turn. 5.12.15. Push down. Remove lock. Place unnecessary baggage. Return lock. Push up. Push down and turn to lock. Stand. Walk up steps--again. 5th floor. Breath. Class. Walk in. Sit down. Take out book. Attempt to listen and 'participate.' Yet, today--lucky me--there was a substitute. So, now instead of attempt to listen and 'participate' for an hour-- its' attempt to 'entertain' myself and survive this dull, boring classroom for an hour. The attendence sheet was placed on my desk. Yet, the substitute lingered there. So, I signed my name quickly and handed it over. And there, on her face was this smile-- the same joyful yet mischevious smile that plays across my mother's lips whenever she is onto something. That's the thing that surprises me most.
Monday, December 11, 2006
Get On The Left Lane, Chris Chattergoon
“Get on the left lane...On the left lane!!! Hurry Hurry. Mash the brakes!” cried my mother as I swerved left and right, dodging traffic as I raced alongside the road at 20mph. Twenty. Miles. Per. Hour. And there my mother was, shrieking in a state of panic as I sat there, discombobulated and terrified all at the same time. It seemed as though, everyone and everything was against me. The wind knocked about my car, horns honked all around me, and the morning glare blinded me as my foot mashed on the brakes, bringing my car to a full stop and sending us flying toward the windshield. And there it was. A flashback. Thirty minutes earlier.
I felt the bursts of adrenaline rushing through my veins. I could feel the ecstatic chills that I embraced. Pumped and ready to take this old Toyota on the road, with all the world watching me, I felt like the center of attention. Today was the day. The one day where I was exonerated from these confined cages that had withdrew me from the freedom of driving. I hopped in the front seat of the car, and that’s when everything suddenly disappeared. And there I was, my mother and I, along with the infinite earth that I had yet to discover. The ignition turned on. For some reason, I do not know how. The feeling in my hands went Num, for I was to apprehensive about this totally new experience.
The car gave out a huge surge of energy and power that had exploded throughout this fine piece of craftsmanship, as the car roar for speed, for life. It was ready, but was I. I sat there, head straight forward, as I waited for something to happen. Today was the day when I claimed my superlative being. Another rush of adrenaline, and then another. One after another, each one more and more intense, and suddenly, it happened. I slammed on the gas, accelerating down the once populated street, as I faced yet another obstacle, the nearby panic of my mom as it over-empowered me. Can you just think way back to when you first got you driving experience? The thrilled and arousing sense of feeling that you got when you fingers first touched the wheel. That feeling brought me back more than ten years ago when I was just a child driving behind of the wheel of my own red truck. The little two by two vehicle with plastic flames extending up towards the windshield as I zoomed past my parents going no faster than the footsteps of their pace.
Once again, we fast forward time to the actual setting. There are no fake flames, no one mile an hour speed limits. It seemed as if the whole world was sitting, watching me, against me. The wind blew my sense of direction off corse. The long veins of the trees stretched as it screeched against the windshield. The tires burned all its rubber from the acceleration of the car. And then it came. It started off as early spring morning. The plants and trees sprung up, as if waiting for years for an opportunity like this. There was no more wind. Instead, a light breeze floated across the air, gently twitching you nose and it passed on by. But this wasn’t the morning paradise I was waiting for. The sense left as quickly as it came. I watched as it chased away the clouds, and it felt as if the whole world just held its breathe for a split second. The blinding sun poked it small, but powerful glare at me, forcing me to end my road spree, and come to a near stop. At that same instinct, the leaves rained like confetti on a New Year’s night. The once so gentle breeze turned into a coalesce of dirt, sand, and pebbles. And, then, as I turned my head up, the sun had disappeared. It was like an act, an illusion. You may think you see what’s going on, but further away something more important is always happening. Suddenly, torrential dropped like bombs in mid-air, huge bursts of water exploded as it tore at the roof if the car. The wind knocked about the car like wild gun fire.
My formidable feeling was now turned into a state of melancholy depression. The journey, the long lost quest I had yet to discover was overturned by a larger obstacle with greater experience and power than mine. And, with my back hunched over, I opened the door slowly, and exchanged places with a person that had much more experience. My time of greatness had ended. Now on the right side of the vehicle, the co-caption side, the passenger side, I took one last look up into the sky, and the rained slowed down, nothing but a little drizzle here and there. It was over, but its damage was done. My trial was over as a driver. Seats exchanged, errands already delivered, there was nothing left to do but go home. It seemed like the option left, or was it...
I felt the bursts of adrenaline rushing through my veins. I could feel the ecstatic chills that I embraced. Pumped and ready to take this old Toyota on the road, with all the world watching me, I felt like the center of attention. Today was the day. The one day where I was exonerated from these confined cages that had withdrew me from the freedom of driving. I hopped in the front seat of the car, and that’s when everything suddenly disappeared. And there I was, my mother and I, along with the infinite earth that I had yet to discover. The ignition turned on. For some reason, I do not know how. The feeling in my hands went Num, for I was to apprehensive about this totally new experience.
The car gave out a huge surge of energy and power that had exploded throughout this fine piece of craftsmanship, as the car roar for speed, for life. It was ready, but was I. I sat there, head straight forward, as I waited for something to happen. Today was the day when I claimed my superlative being. Another rush of adrenaline, and then another. One after another, each one more and more intense, and suddenly, it happened. I slammed on the gas, accelerating down the once populated street, as I faced yet another obstacle, the nearby panic of my mom as it over-empowered me. Can you just think way back to when you first got you driving experience? The thrilled and arousing sense of feeling that you got when you fingers first touched the wheel. That feeling brought me back more than ten years ago when I was just a child driving behind of the wheel of my own red truck. The little two by two vehicle with plastic flames extending up towards the windshield as I zoomed past my parents going no faster than the footsteps of their pace.
Once again, we fast forward time to the actual setting. There are no fake flames, no one mile an hour speed limits. It seemed as if the whole world was sitting, watching me, against me. The wind blew my sense of direction off corse. The long veins of the trees stretched as it screeched against the windshield. The tires burned all its rubber from the acceleration of the car. And then it came. It started off as early spring morning. The plants and trees sprung up, as if waiting for years for an opportunity like this. There was no more wind. Instead, a light breeze floated across the air, gently twitching you nose and it passed on by. But this wasn’t the morning paradise I was waiting for. The sense left as quickly as it came. I watched as it chased away the clouds, and it felt as if the whole world just held its breathe for a split second. The blinding sun poked it small, but powerful glare at me, forcing me to end my road spree, and come to a near stop. At that same instinct, the leaves rained like confetti on a New Year’s night. The once so gentle breeze turned into a coalesce of dirt, sand, and pebbles. And, then, as I turned my head up, the sun had disappeared. It was like an act, an illusion. You may think you see what’s going on, but further away something more important is always happening. Suddenly, torrential dropped like bombs in mid-air, huge bursts of water exploded as it tore at the roof if the car. The wind knocked about the car like wild gun fire.
My formidable feeling was now turned into a state of melancholy depression. The journey, the long lost quest I had yet to discover was overturned by a larger obstacle with greater experience and power than mine. And, with my back hunched over, I opened the door slowly, and exchanged places with a person that had much more experience. My time of greatness had ended. Now on the right side of the vehicle, the co-caption side, the passenger side, I took one last look up into the sky, and the rained slowed down, nothing but a little drizzle here and there. It was over, but its damage was done. My trial was over as a driver. Seats exchanged, errands already delivered, there was nothing left to do but go home. It seemed like the option left, or was it...
Saturday, December 09, 2006
Him, Tom Pascal
Different
He breathes it
Sleeps it
Bleeds it
Cries it
The smiles fade
The whip of reality comes down hard on his bare back
It burns
Sears
Leaves telling marks on his heartstrings
They too scream "different"
For no one but he
Can feel as he does
He does not love "right"
Does not think, feel, believe…"right"
That crack in the window
The paint chipping off the softened, fragmented wood
Is wider than ever
The breeze now more vicious
Makes his tender skin tense with agony
His mind enraptured in sugar-coated dreams
Trying to mask
To dry the tears
And yet
They seem to engulf his spirit
He doesn't deserve this
Can't know why
The agony
The sweat builds on his forehead
Boiling
He cannot satisfy his soul
For if he'd been given just one chance
He would make everything
Perfect
But these wounds can never heal
Because to everyone else, they're anything but real
And he knows
What people don't see, they don't believe in
Well, its no surprise he's so talented when it comes to being
Invisible
He breathes it
Sleeps it
Bleeds it
Cries it
The smiles fade
The whip of reality comes down hard on his bare back
It burns
Sears
Leaves telling marks on his heartstrings
They too scream "different"
For no one but he
Can feel as he does
He does not love "right"
Does not think, feel, believe…"right"
That crack in the window
The paint chipping off the softened, fragmented wood
Is wider than ever
The breeze now more vicious
Makes his tender skin tense with agony
His mind enraptured in sugar-coated dreams
Trying to mask
To dry the tears
And yet
They seem to engulf his spirit
He doesn't deserve this
Can't know why
The agony
The sweat builds on his forehead
Boiling
He cannot satisfy his soul
For if he'd been given just one chance
He would make everything
Perfect
But these wounds can never heal
Because to everyone else, they're anything but real
And he knows
What people don't see, they don't believe in
Well, its no surprise he's so talented when it comes to being
Invisible
Saturday, December 02, 2006
Mask Poem, Jonathan Mendoza
Who am I now?
Just a mere shadow
floating on the
breeze?
This false fortress
I’ve created,
so fragile,
the walls are closing in
The world sees a lie,
a suit, armor
created to protect himself,
little does he know it is
slowly making his shattered heart bleed
Each laugh thick with sorrow,
caught in an epic struggle
to suppress
the tears that burn
as they trickle slowly
d
o
w
n
telling the story of his
torn soul,
scarred from internal battles
that are forever raging
behind these walls
He tries to fill the abyss
with false happiness,
but relief never comes…
The fortress really his own grave…
How he yearns to break free from the
shackles that bind him…
Each link a deception
crafted from his
wicked lies
A silent cry is uttered,
forced out by the pressure, the burden building
up,
pulsing in his blood
surging through his veins,
throwing him into a sad darkness
waiting for the day when
light
will break
through and
Salvation
will come…
Just a mere shadow
floating on the
breeze?
This false fortress
I’ve created,
so fragile,
the walls are closing in
The world sees a lie,
a suit, armor
created to protect himself,
little does he know it is
slowly making his shattered heart bleed
Each laugh thick with sorrow,
caught in an epic struggle
to suppress
the tears that burn
as they trickle slowly
d
o
w
n
telling the story of his
torn soul,
scarred from internal battles
that are forever raging
behind these walls
He tries to fill the abyss
with false happiness,
but relief never comes…
The fortress really his own grave…
How he yearns to break free from the
shackles that bind him…
Each link a deception
crafted from his
wicked lies
A silent cry is uttered,
forced out by the pressure, the burden building
up,
pulsing in his blood
surging through his veins,
throwing him into a sad darkness
waiting for the day when
light
will break
through and
Salvation
will come…
Friday, December 01, 2006
Parenthood, Kaitlyn Pyne
Rant on the Concept of Parenthood
(After an argument with my mother)
The whole concept of parenthood infuriates me. What's the point of giving life to a human being who grows to hate you? You are a kid for eighteen years. You go to college and fall in debt for four years, eight if you are really ambitious. Then you have maybe another four or five years before your Great Aunt Sally starts reminding you that your biological clock is ticking. You do not want to be known in your family as the spinster who did not procreate, so now all of a sudden you are in a rush to start a family. You marry the first person you share an apartment with because you are "comfortable," have 2.5 kids, who rack up insane amounts of therapy bills when mommy and daddy do not love each other anymore and get a divorce. You have a mid-life crisis and marry the mysterious artist from your past after your kids move out. You and your new husband jump on a plan to Cabo and party like teenagers, before finally buying that beach house you have always wanted, where you spend the rest of the short life you have left. What is the point? Where is the "you" time? Studying your ass off in college? Chauffeuring your kids to soccer practice? Crying over you failed marriage? Or when you are old enough to apply for an AARP card? You go from being a teenager to an adult to a mother in about seventeen years, which is around the same amount of time you spent trying to get rid of your parents. Why would you want to be one yourself? Giving birth may be one of the most beautiful miracles that ever happens to a woman, but is it worth sagging parts of your body that you didn't even know sagged at thirty, losing your keen fashion sense, having a husband who cheats with the nanny, or a van you swore to yourself at fifteen you would never buy that you do not even have enough kids to fill? Sure kids are great and our main purpose on Earth is to continue the human race, but are they worth the freedom you have fought so hard to have? Eventually I will become one of those mothers I loath in matching sweater sets and badly dyed hair, arranging play dates, but that will not be for a very long time. For now I am content with my individualist lifestyle, until one day in the very far future I surrender my protest against conformity and marry a man I love and have kids whom I will always love, although they might not always love me.
(After an argument with my mother)
The whole concept of parenthood infuriates me. What's the point of giving life to a human being who grows to hate you? You are a kid for eighteen years. You go to college and fall in debt for four years, eight if you are really ambitious. Then you have maybe another four or five years before your Great Aunt Sally starts reminding you that your biological clock is ticking. You do not want to be known in your family as the spinster who did not procreate, so now all of a sudden you are in a rush to start a family. You marry the first person you share an apartment with because you are "comfortable," have 2.5 kids, who rack up insane amounts of therapy bills when mommy and daddy do not love each other anymore and get a divorce. You have a mid-life crisis and marry the mysterious artist from your past after your kids move out. You and your new husband jump on a plan to Cabo and party like teenagers, before finally buying that beach house you have always wanted, where you spend the rest of the short life you have left. What is the point? Where is the "you" time? Studying your ass off in college? Chauffeuring your kids to soccer practice? Crying over you failed marriage? Or when you are old enough to apply for an AARP card? You go from being a teenager to an adult to a mother in about seventeen years, which is around the same amount of time you spent trying to get rid of your parents. Why would you want to be one yourself? Giving birth may be one of the most beautiful miracles that ever happens to a woman, but is it worth sagging parts of your body that you didn't even know sagged at thirty, losing your keen fashion sense, having a husband who cheats with the nanny, or a van you swore to yourself at fifteen you would never buy that you do not even have enough kids to fill? Sure kids are great and our main purpose on Earth is to continue the human race, but are they worth the freedom you have fought so hard to have? Eventually I will become one of those mothers I loath in matching sweater sets and badly dyed hair, arranging play dates, but that will not be for a very long time. For now I am content with my individualist lifestyle, until one day in the very far future I surrender my protest against conformity and marry a man I love and have kids whom I will always love, although they might not always love me.
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