Wall

I am a wall. An object that people try to move, but fail to succeed at budging.  Stare at me. Wonder why I'm so big. I sit here with a blank look all over my surface, wondering, what is my purpose in life?

I Stand and Observe

I Stand and Observe by Claire Frank

I stand and observe the struggles in my country, and

       the chaos and depression within,

I observe the freezing man living on the streets, knowingly

       begging in vain, hungry and distrusted,

I observe me sobbing violated victim, shunned, misunderstood,

       blamed, unable to get help,

I observe the violator of women strut away unchallenged and

       unprosecuted, already searching for the next victim,

I observe the disorderly drunkard, the stench of alcohol on his

       breath as he takes out his frustrations on his child,

I observe the depressed teenager, detached, cutting,

      contemplating a quick end,

 I observe the innocent man bleeding out into the street,

       randomly gunned down, confused, questioning,

I stand and observe everything – all of the violence and confusion,

       the sadness and pain,

observe, understand, and overlook

Augmented Reality

 Augmented Reality - Aron Swanson

Siddhartha, nesting in your head

What an honor

for reading the Book of the Dead

Ducking bowing submerging

shallow waters

silently signaling others

the quaint perfection pours

purple covers over their eyes

Gifting each nerve with new sight

They’ve gotten control, become fearless

while daffodils and sun

give up suchness

flowering foliage of a million bright ambassadors

illuminating experience

shine through our eyes

Walking back from heaven

I realize I can do no harm

they must be mistaken

arrest me of murder?

Eyes lifting off jurors mallet

across the sea of faceless peers

across the grainy film of ghastly doings

of which I have no recollection

red pools spilling from broken jaw lines

smashed eyeballs and peeled bones

my expression of pure ecstasy

became a sobering

from nirvanic distate

I plead insanity

Untitled

Untitled by Becca Nordseth

I am trapped within this barricade

Blocking me from the outside world

It looks harsh as it stands there stationary

I sigh at its strong stance

Because I know it’s unbreakable

It tastes of confinement and enclosure

As I touch this thing that is prohibiting my escape

I feel sharp prickly wood that pokes into my skin

It feels strong and sturdy

When I inhale I can smell my lack of freedom

I listen to this object

It is quiet, with nothing to say

Its silence stares back at me

And laughs at my enclosure

This thing makes me feel stuck and caged

It gives me a strong urge to escape

This object will block me from the outside world.

Scoop

Scoop

Jared McGee

The clanging and clacking

Against the bowl,

The smell of ice cream

Makes it whole,

The cold hard feel

That chills my soul,

The tasteless silver

Takes its toll,

The shine and sparkle

Far from dull,

The sister of the fork

The anonymous troll,

The assistance it gives

From hunger to full.

Swiftly

He strides to class,

Walking swiftly towards third block English.

He swarms through the crowd,

his feet slither down the hallways,

side by side,

gliding together

in perfect synchronization.

When lunch arrives,

he stands before me at the lunch line.

He stands erect,

He stands beautifully.

His hair shines amidst

the cafeteria air.

His nonchalant gestures flow with ease,

unnoticed.

I can feel a “hello” bubbling

on the tip of my tongue,

but I can’t whisper

any words.

He soon parts from me,

moving swiftly

as if drawn by the current.

Lunch ends,

the bell rings.

I was never able

to muster the courage

to say hello.

The Electric Fence

The Electric Fence

By: Erica Walker

                “So, what is your name?” I knew as soon as I asked my shaky, silent lab partner this question, I couldn’t go back. His mysterious, bad-boy image somehow attracted me to him. Glancing at his features was like staring at stars on a dark night; you know that they’re there, but you don’t know what story lies behind each star.

                He finally answers, “James, you?” His child-like voice made me even more interested in him.

                “Cary,” I mentioned as I extended my hand to meet his.

                His gentle, strong hands meet mine and that’s when it hit me: my palms felt as if I had a firm grip on an electric fence. From then, our conversations eventually became longer and our distance from each other became shorter.

                I noticed his struggling grade in science, so I followed my instincts. “James, do you need help studying for our unit test on Tuesday?”

                “M’fine.” That’s all he ever said when I tried to take our friendship a step forward.

                “I can tell from that D,” I proved to him.

                “So I’m below you, is that what you’re saying?” he asked, as his childish voice escalated to an adult-like scold. Before I had a chance to defend myself, he continued his rant, “Jus’ cause I get one bad grade, means I won’t be successful? Are you trying to make me feel bad; cause it worked.”

                Those were the last words James ever said. Why he did it, no one will ever know.

Blonde Bandits

Blonde Bandits

Elyel Moran

Toddlers lying on a quaint bench feeling the sea breeze,

Young boy wearing azul overalls that cut off on the knees,

Young girl cheesing because the boy said, “Kiss me please!”

While the sun caresses the infants skin on a warm illuminated day of the week,

Meanwhile blue birds and beige bees laying on flowers and trees,

Singing a lovely melody that makes anyone fond to breathe,

Small smooth thin lips spell out “I love thee, so be with me.”

Blonde Bandits bringing brightness for the world,

Relationship since three years old,

Small boy and small girl.