Compass Rose (a song),Chrissy Garcia

There's just a tiny, minor Setback in your plan
Just watch it spilling
Over your pride like sand
I don't remember a
Connection between dark and light.

A sharp-tongued comment
Bangs upon your front door
You strike a bargain
And you trade your dawn for night
Content with the moonlight
That you'll extinguish soon enough.

Minus the redemption
From your list of blessings
Smash a compass rose
Find a new direction
Dead center in the wreckage
Awaiting another crash
To finalize your plan:
Connections between dark and light.


Well, go and taste the poisoned
Medicine you make
I've lost my patience
And it's time for you to take
The burden of deceit
And bury it beneath your grave.


This compass rose
Won't point me north or south or
Where I'm meant to be.


Minus the redemption
From your list of blessings
Smash a compass rose
Find a new direction
Dead center in the wreckage
Awaiting another crash
To finalize your plan:
Connections between dark and light.

A bridge built over the sea
Won't carry out your plan.


This compass rose
Won't point me north or south or
Where I'm meant to be.


Dead center in the wreckage
Awaiting another crash
to finalize your plan:
Connections between dark and light.

It Will Not Lead You Far (a song for Jazzy),Chrissy Garcia

Somewhere in your bones You can find the words
Smothered in fantasies
Comforting lies
Leave an imprint
Upon your skin
Call them back to war
Like a sunflower
You smile and ignore
The spreading dark
I have tried to burn
The books of fairytales that have
Smeared my way.


Well, the late night stories
Built my dreams
Bring the pillars down so I may see
The imprisoned in between
A clear blue sky
Will not tempt me
I've hit the concrete
And now I am free
And walk on my own.



Onward to the brink
Of choice and fate
Where justice won't come
To stand and fight
Meaningless phrase
You speak of courage
But will not take the blame
Call them back to war
Like a sunflower
You smile and ignore
The spreading dark.



Well, the late night stories
Built my dreams
Bring the pillars down so I may see
The imprisoned in between
A clear blue sky
Will not tempt me
I've hit the concrete
And now I am free
And walk on my own
I won't settle down.


I won't settle down
Don't hush my thoughts.



Camouflage with the veil
Of shadows that is draped
Over what you thought
Was the only way.

The Sea (a song for Nupur),Chrissy Garcia

I recall a morning breeze
Racing to me
Whilst aboard a ship without a sail
And there I'd wait
For a wave
To engluf me
Into fathoms I can scarcely dream of.

Wake up
In an azure memory
Of you
Trying to find a way back home
The sun has sunk too low.

Jagged shores pretend
To accept me
Desperately searching for a whisp
Of your remains
Silence me
And reclaim me
Heart in my hand to give freely.

Wake up
In an azure memory
Of you
Trying to find a way back home
The sun has sunk too low.


Take me back to
Your beginning
And show me, tell me
Why life's designed this way
If I had power
To rewrite this
Story, I'd drain the sea
So you'd be with me

My first goodbye, Tatiana Cadet

So I woke up this morning to an unfamiliar loud cry. I tried to ignore it and continue to sleep, my cries continued. I slowly walked downstairs to find my Mom bawling in the bathroom. Her cries were louder than a banshee. As I walked towards her I noticed she was on the phone. I knew the reason for my mother’s tears, but I didn't want to believe it. I let a million bad thoughts run through my mind, anything but the thought I was afraid of. She paced through the kitchen saying her farewells to the person on the phone. She walked to the living room and took a seat on the coach. I sat beside her on the arm of the chair. She put the phone on speaker, and I heard my aunt’s voice. Before my mom even said a word, she began to cry loudly again. I leaned her head on my chest and held her. "His fingers are turning blue" she said into the phone "He's unresponsive and they have him on life support" "Wow" my aunt continued to reply, I guess she was at lost for words and wow was the only thing she could say. After their conversation I let my shoulder be there for my mom to cry on, as her cries began to sound like screams for mercy. I began to imagine how the funeral would be like and sobbed quietly as I held her close. I listened to my mom talk on the phone with all her brothers and sisters one at a time. Conversation after conversation, I had heard it all. The last conversation I listened to was the one she had with my aunt Betty. All I remember her saying is "His line is flat, he's not breathing...wait, it’s up again. Now that's it, he's gone 7:49. I love you Daddy" I slowly made my way upstairs, locked myself in the bathroom and ran the water to muffle my cries.




I love you Papit, you were the only grandfather I ever knew and the best. You couldn't have done a better job. You will be forever loved and missed.

No Thank you...,Anthony Herrero

No thank you, wench. I learned not to judge people to harshly or to quickly. There are two sides to everything. And sometimes even more than two sides! But there is a break from such perfect ideology here. Just for you, my dear sweet birth giver. I don't want to bother with you. I don't need to deal with you. While my hand is usually guided by the calm and effortless motions of fair judgment I will blind my self worth here. Perhaps it was because I couldn't exactly voice my opinion. Having been in diapers and all? But that's okay. I'm sure I did a well enough job at wailing my lungs out. While you bellowed at my Father. While you two tried to beat each other into the ground. I bet it was a grand spectacle. Enough for all the homeless fools to stagger out of their drunken state for the daily spouse match-off. Who would win? Who would lose?


Who cares!? Just show us some blood!

So no thank you, Mrs. Hernandez. You didn't merely leave. You changed the course of my fate. Damned me to lurking in the underbelly of civil court. Banished me to discovering whom exactly wept in the shadows of lost siblings. This isn't necessary – you aren't necessary. I should have never sought you out. Never cracked open this particular can of worms. If everyone is given a freebie for their lack of judgment than you are my mine. I take back all we ever discussed among the blood lusty mosquitoes. Forget the black tarp cover up for our midnight tropic heart to heart over the coconut sips. I never shared with you exactly why I grew hair this long. You don't know Sarah – don't deserve to. So erase that as well. There was never a contemplation to see what life was like with you. Never,never. And another thing. I will always speak Spanish the way I do.

You don't like how I sound like a tourist?

Deal with it!

No thank you, Jajaria. I have lapsed for the final time. You have gone beyond that boundary. At least, for me. I will not ponder your side of this story. Or any story. You made your choice, all those years ago, to choose her over me. Now it's my choice! I guess I am my mother's son, after all, aren't I? Because I am leaving. Don't call me, don't text me, and don't IM me. There's no use. I choose you over her. Maybe now you'll get it. This is the end, for both you and me.

No thank you, Mother Dearest, you don't have to be my mother. You never were anyway

Katie Rose, Ashley Alongi

         Katie Rose Shrewsberry was a perfect cliché. She was beautiful, blonde haired, blue eyed. Completely oblivious to it all. And I was the boy hopelessly in love with her. Unrequited of course, which is often the way these clichés go. I settled for the label of best friend.
          With her knees curled up to her chest we would sit in some corner of the school library, hoping to steal a few minutes alone together. We would read the bible. And like pseudo conservative renegades we covered it with a book jacket from a copy of War and Peace so we weren’t bothered. I didn’t know if Katie Rose was religious, sacrilegious, sadist, evangelist or whatever. But I didn’t really care. And I suppose this is all subjective, but when she read the bible it was like listening to poetry.

         That was all we treated it as. I sat with her not to discuss ideals but be silent and listen to her. Her voice like warm breath on a frosty windowpane. All tender whispers.
Katie Rose Shrewsberry is gone now.

          Sitting in our corner, I close my eyes and breathe in the lingering smells of ink and strawberries. I try to imagine our heads bent together for just one more time, and find in my mind a memory of her voice reading to me:

You are my dove hiding among the rocks on the side of a cliff. Let me see how lovely you are! Let me hear the sound of your melodious voice.

And in this moment, I understand what she was trying to tell me all along

Untitled, Brandee Hailey

The last time I saw him, I cried.
His arms sat soft over my shoulders.
His words we're like daggers and delayed my heart the sorrow.

My eyes watered in a mass of my face, and I had no control.
I wanted to run lose, but my body wouldn't allow it too.
These thoughts were scrambled, like sea shells on a beach
And I wanted to hate him but, all at the same wanted to love him.

He said this was it, but it wasn't the end.
He told me he didn't want it to be like this, but yet he was the reason
It was like this. His words mad no sense, and my mind didn't want it to, I just wanted to dislike him.

I wished, and wished I could hate him, but the kindness
I had so far down in my body wouldn't even begin to let me.
Was it worth caring, Should I had fought harder?
Was the time that had passed, wasted?

Wonders of my mind tend to still fall upon him.
My mind considers it, and then represses.

Distant love that once was, happiness now was sweet tears.
Forgiveness was never an option that I offered myself.

The last time I saw him. Was the last time I saw him.
The last time I cried, the last time I worried.

The last time I kissed him, because the last time I saw you
Was the first time I saw through, to what really matters…Me

A hundred times no and one time yes, Jada Cooper

Shall I be a disappointment?

No I shall not

Shall I be a failure?

No I shall not

Shall I be pressured?

No I shall not

Shall I be stressed?

No I shall not

Shall I let someone destroy me?

No I shall not

Shall I be a success?

Yes I shall

Shall I be something great?

Yes I shall

Shall I be a delight of joy?

Yes I shall

Shall I make my parents proud?

Yes I shall

No and yes is a part of life. It can determine whether life will knock you down or bring you to a higher ground. I’m sorry is what I always say but what I need to starting saying is I will do better or I can or I am going to do better.

Definition of Love,Tesah Reyes

What’s the definition of love? Well people say that it’s “a profoundly tender, passionate affection for another person.” But I’ve been told that it’s more than that. When you love someone, it’s an unexplainable set of words that can be close to what you’re feeling. I’ve never been in love before, but I’ve seen every bit of it. From the kissing, to cuddling, to holding hands, and to the way he looks at her. It’s something everyone wants in their life. It’s something that we need to get through those difficult days. But sometimes it’s not something I want to experience. The screaming, the tossing, the pain, the tears. I’ve seen it before too. It’s happened to my friends, my family, and strangers that I haven’t met before. My sister told me it’s a great feeling that cannot be explained with her words. It’s a very rare thing to find that’s what she says. But sometimes, when I look at her, I see worry, regret, and pain. A lot of pain. If you listen hard enough, you could hear the tears falling off her face and slowly hitting her pillow. You can hear her voice crack as the phone rings. She seems so lonely at times even though she has a full family right here by her side. With all the people in the world, why do we all seem so lonely? That’s what I ask myself all the time. It’s a good question that has over a million answers. But the answers to our loneliness will come soon enough. I can’t write everything about this topic of “love” because I’m still at the stage where I don’t need it, but I know that it’s around; just waiting to strike at the right time.

Untitled, Tatiana Castellanos

The alarm clock cannot defend itself.
It screams and cries and beams with pride.
All the while I kick and moan and yell so quick and loud but I feel so alone.

I cover my eyes with my soft old blanket.
It’s filled with lies from a once very young soul who was told she was better off keeping to herself.

Finally after the third shriek, I furiously grab my helpless alarm clock and smack it against the drawer repeatedly.
But I know it’s not the alarm clock that I resent, it’s the sound it beats.
The sound of pain. The sound only I know from previous screams and fights and flowing bloodstreams that come from a light so bright.

The sound imitates my fear.
It imitates pain.
A place where I can catch all of that somewhere near here. We’re not safe, thought it’s been a good year, we can always shift a gear and clear the past for only we know that this pain comes and all we can do is shed a tear. Dear child its only a matter of time until we can be able to once again cheer. And for a mere second steer life into the direction we want but that only happens when you drink one too many beers.

We never get what we want.
And we take it out on that poor alarm clock that is only trying to follow its orders that came directly from us.

What I Want To Be Remembered For!, Jeneice Johnson

When I am gone there is one thing I want to be remembered for
I want to be remembered as the girl who never settled for less but always wanted more
I want people to think back and think of good things I’ve done
Not think of my past mistakes or the fights that I’ve won
I want people to respect my glorious name
Not think of me and shake their heads in shame
I want people to look up to me
I want people to say she’s someone I want to be
Don’t remember me for how I left or the mean things I said
Don’t say I’m glad this is her outcome she’s made her bed
Don’t remember me as the girl who on the outside looked fine
Don’t feel bad you never listened and that you didn’t have time
Remember me for my laugh or my need to be free
Most of all remember me as happy to be

Me!!!!

Life, Gwendolyn Johnson

It’s a sad story when somebody dies;
the skies cry;
the grounds flood;
tears flow and hearts hurt.

It’s unbelievable to know
the world still goes on
outside your dark little world.
Time flies;
minutes pass;
hours go by, and days keep coming.

Outside your window
you can hear the birds humming
their happy little song
that somehow keeps you going;
keeps you believing that somehow
tomorrow will bring sunshine and blue skies;
tearless days and less heartache.

It’s strange to say
these things usually never take place.
The tears are always there;
the anger is always felt
and the will to go on is hard to be kept.
In the end it must be dealt
within the heart;
within the soul;
throughout the body and in the mind.

Ultimately we all find
it’s a hard journey that takes time.

It’s a sad story
when somebody dies;
the tears in your heart arise
and everybody cries
but that’s life.

Fun things to do, Jonathan Cedat

There are fun things to do like playing ball in the street.
There are fun things to do like playing in the heat.
There are fun things to do like playing at the park.
Your life is a bore you need a new score.
There are fun things to do then stay at home.
There are fun things to do then watching TV.
There are fun things to do then going on the computer.
So go play once a day.

May,Joanie McGranaghan

The pale face
Turns to dust
As you lie there
Waiting…wishing…
You look so different
Its really not you
Your cheeks
They’re cold
They feel
So cold
When I press mine
On yours
Its hard to breather
To speak
What do I say?
How do I manage?
As you lie there breathless
I wait for your heart
Your heart to beat again
The disappointment
Is slowly breaking my heart
I look at you
Dying over there
Alone, so pal
In the coffin
Surrounded by flowers
All your loved ones
We all cry
You lie alone
Some don’t take it
They leave
Mommy takes my
hand
While I stand
Waiting…wishing…
Watching over you
The day it ends
The last time I see you
So I say my
Goodbye
and
I love you

The Truth About Pens and Paper,Chrissy Garcia

A pen that refuses
To leave the paper
Is one that is destined
To make a mark.
When pages are blank
With no mind of their own
That is when they are most
Happy
Are the most ignorant.
Ignorance:
A vice and a virtue.
Is it better to study the darkness
Or to study that which is aflame in color
That ensures a damaged heart?
Is there such a thing as
Knowing too much?
A blank piece of paper
Is a servant
And is told secrets
Even if they wish not to listen.
A pen, too is a slave
To knowledge
But it has no mind
To call its own
To begin with.
Neither pens nor paper are gifted with choice
But one feels pain
When they are told the truth.

Untitled, Bellene Fisher

When I was younger, I saw the moon. He was my best friend. He slept with me during the day and ran around with me in the midnight blue, lighting up my path. He made everything look more beautiful. He made water glitter; pavements shine like they had been touched by pale angels. Everything he touched looked like it was leading to heaven. But the moon would disappear for weeks at a time. The water had no angelic luster and the pavements had no heavenly shine. I was alone cold and depressed. Bad things started to happen when the moon wasn’t there. When the lonely weeks slowly dreadfully passed and he crept back so we could unite like when I was younger. I saw the moon but he was the worst friend that couldn’t make a commitment.

Untitled,Wesley Young

As I walk down the empty hall, it gives me a feeling of restriction, as though no matter which direction I walk in or stairway I go up, I'll be trapped inside the isolating and depressing walls of the demonic institute that can be described as high school. As I walk down the hall approaching my locker of dismay and disorder, I see a door my that sets off a rush of memories from my childhood. It was a spring day, a Thursday like any other Thursday with people trying to recover from the disaster of Wednesday. I recall it was the last period of the day, and I was in a moderate mood considering the cage-like classroom I was sitting in...math. The meniacal dictator returned math projects of doom, as she handed me ine without even giving me a look of acknowledgement. I thought maybe there was a chance that she would nod her head at least and give me the fulfilling feeling of knowing I did well without seeing my grade. She didn't. As the depression set in, I peeled back the front cover, and it sucked my soul into the ink that read 6 1/3, the grade absorbed more than my soul, it absorbed all the hopes and dreams I had of passing math. As I stand outside of the classroom of death in the hallway of evil, I shake my head and turn to go to the weird and wacky writing center.

Desire

What I desire

Love, Money, and Power

Anything from a one night stand

to the one and only.

From a penney

to a million dollors.

To being able to control myself

to WORLD DOMINATION.

I desire so little but yet

so much.

For I am greedy

Because I desire

EVERYTHING!!!

By Wesley Mazzara