Amir Begovic
Today
It is a sad day for us all today
Why is it a privilege to be here?
In a university of learning
What be of paramount importance
I say it should be an education
But do all people share my same thoughts
One day robots will take over our thoughts
That future, not far away from today
How do we stop this? An education
But that idea won’t pass, no, not here
How much we know is of no importance
But the robots are actually learning
Here is a scenario, some learning
Facebook, advertisements, there are my thoughts
Someone else tells me what’s of importance
What would happen if they all died today?
The learned one that built everything here
Can we replace them, no education?
Can you tell me of your education?
Can you milk a cow? Is that your learning?
If technology shut down, now and here
We could not cope, we don’t have these thoughts
Do you know how an iPod works today?
But as long as it works, it’s of no importance
What is it that they think is of importance?
Is it money or is it education
Is it how much oil is in Alaska today?
Is that where the money goes from learning
I can’t focus, way too many thoughts
Adderall, drugs are the only answer here
Let’s think about another thought here
The music today it’s of importance
It is all three minutes long, it’s a thought
And what is that? Here is some education
That’s the time extent most people have for learning
From Mozart back then, to Lil Wayne today
This is a problem here, with no solution today
When learning about history is of no importance
Without an education, we have none of our original thoughts
Maria Cases
Mon Amie Flora
We told her she was pretty
We insisted she was thin
But we could not reach her.
It took me time to understand
The paranoia, sadness, and lies.
She needed someone, she needed me.
All the stories she told me,
Her life was not pretty.
She swore by her lies,
And her face grew thin.
“You have to eat! Understand?”
But there was nothing I could tell her.
“Stop the dark shit,” I told her
But she did not listen to me
I could not understand
What happened to our childhood, so pretty?
The line grew more and more thin
Between reality and lies.
And while she lies
In her coffin, I cry for her.
Reality had become so thin,
She could not see it, nor me.
Or anything pretty.
Only the darkness, she could understand.
What happened? I could not understand.
She became caught in her web of lies...
They must have been pretty,
Those voices that spoke to her.
It was a huge burden to me,
Realizing the problem was not just her growing thin.
It sent her to the hospital, being too thin,
Once she was there, the doctors began to understand.
Schizophrenia, the word to meant nothing me,
All I wanted was to end her lies.
She had so much going for her.
Kind, smart, and very pretty.
She was so concerned with being pretty and being thin,
I thought her problem was anorexia, but I began to understand too late.
Her lies were Schizophrenic visions, and that will forever haunt me.
Michael Arbeed
The Circus
One mannequin supplants another
The color of their ties a law
Red is reactionary, blue is radical
God forbid you are the first
For they are far too dangerous
Or the latter, who are far too slow
One feels as if their clock is running slow
2012 is a year as same as another
But the threat of change is dangerous
To those for which religion is a law
Who argue “which came first?”
The egg theorists are radicals
But maybe there is hope for a free radical?
Someone capable of making the descent slow?
They would certainly be the first
But I fear there wouldn’t be another
For politics tests the facts of law
And messing with “fact” can be dangerous
A wall erected to save us from the dangerous
men sitting beside us in congress, the radicals
Who dare challenge the word of the law
If we are talking, take it slow
If they are talking, interrupt for another
For who speaks truth speaks first
But mannequins have owners who first
Explain what is dangerous
And why their interests are better than another
And why their product is so radical
They are salesman who move so slow
And turn their money into law
And the courts, custodians of law
Never allowed to be the first
Precedent makes them slow
For the law can be too dangerous
And justice is very radical
For one man punishes another
No one feels as if they could change another law.
Is it radical to believe that we could be the first?
That’s a dangerous notion, take things slow.
Myra Orgain
Hollow
I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by machines,
Machines, Machinery clogging crystal lymph in dimensionless arteries,
Combine gears clicking away like clockwork,
Trembling under the weight of the new neon Apollo, abandoned
I was blinking in the blue hollows of the sterile infirmary
Half-human, half metal beast
Fastened to the seat of a contraption, I am united with the beast:
Four rubber tubes protrude from the recess of the machines,
My muffled croaks echo in the hollows of the sterile infirmary
Mouth deformed like a cleft lip baby, looming terror drains my arteries,
Something’s wrong with my mouth, communication abandoned
Fangs poised, inorganic venus fly trap snaps like clockwork
Ready to snap shut over my head spinning like clockwork,
The instant my curiosity ventures to stroke the sultry porcelain throat of the metal beast.
Some cruel and unholy ritual humanity should have long abandoned
But we are united with the machines
And we let their electricity into our arteries
Sucking away at our decrepit states in the infirmary
In the infirmary,
I am overcome with the stark realization that the clockwork
Has diffused a hollow world through my arteries
And let’s my body, manipulated by the beast
To the beat of the whirling, twirling machines
And when it’s done with me it leaves me abandoned
I lie there abandoned
While nurse and the doctor make chit-chat like everything couldn’t be more casual in the infirmary
Barely mustering a sound because of the angry tubes of the machines
Angrily sucking away at my humanity, gears wheeling clockwork
Anchored to some arbitrary appendage draining into the mouth of the beast
I see the translucent hollow of what was once my arteries
The hanging accordion tubes are circulating arteries
In the position of power over my body abandoned
Of substance stolen by the metal beast
My horror hangs thick vapor cloud over the infirmary
Seeping orange revenge into the springs of the hanging clock ticking like clockwork
Powered by selfish survival of the machines
That is how they make their superficial arteries, the machines,
Lining their cells with clockwork, old flesh abandoned,
Meeting within the infirmary to conduct the body of a beast.
Ethan Katznelson
Call it what you like, but call it illegal
Sensimilia, ganja, or the weed
Its suppressed in our country for reasons unfair
Pushed from sight, why do they treat it this way?
Medicinal or not, we have to say
Legalize it, Don’t criticize it now
What is the problem? Ill let you know now
For the century the tree’s been illegal
For reasons of greed and hate I must say
Its from those bad men, that we lost our weed
Everything was fine, until Hearst had his way
“I just want more money, hemp is unfair!”
Him and Anslinger, for purposes unfair
He said potheads were killers, come on now!
Their blind ambitions, going the wrong way
Since that day, marijuana’s illegal
Forbidden and chastised, from the seed to the weed
They wont listen to us; they don’t care what we say
If you don’t know better, listen to what I say
I’m not the only one, to think its unfair
From Marley to Herer, they all loved their weed
Their retreat to peace, it still does that now
It brings joy just the same, what care if its illegal
Oh, and there are no health effects, by the way
Change is coming, its on the way
People are listening to what we have to say
We live in a state where ganjas not illegal
We think better here, we know its unfair
If you don’t believe me, look in the books now
Its medication, Lets all go smoke weed!
When it comes down to it, its no ordinary weed
Scientists agree, is it dangerous? No way!
This is no longer the past, we’re learning now
From students to politicians, we’re having our say
No longer, will we be treated unfair
Let us smoke weed! It should not be illegal
Illegal no more, let us free the weed
The laws unfair come see the way
Listen to what I say, Legalize pot now!
Stephanie Hoogstad
Disproportionate
The media is a fun house mirror.
I’m an inch too big, and it makes me fat.
She’s an inch too small; it makes her too thin.
I’m overweight, and she is malnourished,
And yet it is better to be her now.
It is better to be too thin, you know.
The media is dumb; they do not know
Some forms don’t change; they stay in the mirror.
I have lost more than eleven pounds now,
But I am still curvy; it makes me fat.
People still say she is malnourished;
She eats and eats but her form makes her thin.
The press sets an image; you should be thin
It says, as if we do not really know
What is healthy, obese, and malnourished.
It makes girls scared to look in the mirror.
Too many people think that they are fat
Because it’s better to be skinny now.
The media rules America now,
And it says that we must try to be thin,
That anyone with a figure is fat.
We can’t be happy with the forms we know;
The world puts us in front of a mirror,
And we’re either obese or malnourished.
There are some girls becoming malnourished;
They think it is a better option now.
They see themselves as fat in the mirror,
Even if they are incredibly thin.
The film stars are thinner than them, you know,
So they must truly be extremely fat.
Boys and girls alike worry that they’re fat,
With few thoughts about being malnourished.
With the media, they no longer know
The gems of people that they are right now.
They’re just obsessed with being fat or thin.
They cannot put down that fun house mirror.
We must destroy that mirror; I’m not fat,
And my friend is thin but not malnourished.
Our forms are perfect now, that much I know.
Felicia Alvarez
Living for the Fight
In memory of Renne Lyra Morrow
Beautiful baby is born into a strange
world. His mother's eyes swell with emotion,
His father dreams of the strong
young man that will grow from the infant's body.
They love him in every way.
It is the peak before a landslide change
He grows up, goes to school and seasons change,
Childhood bliss makes nothing strange
Nothing blocks his sweet youthful way
The world is bright with emotion
Small changes stir in his mind and body
How can a child be so strong?
Life's progression will prove that he is strong.
High school fosters a growing change
in his mind. Does he desire the body
of another man? Something strange
tells him it isn't a gay emotion,
it's my gender that's in the way
A relief washes over her, "he" is pushed away.
She looks to her arms, horribly strong
A powerful rush of emotion
Sings to her "this is the time to change"
She dons a sleek new dress, it's not strange
and becomes new skin for her body.
It always felt like the wrong body,
She's found a confident new way
to exist in a world that calls it strange
Her parents call her sick, can't they see she is strong?
She feels like the universe resents her change
But no one can take away her positive emotion
She strikes a chord in every emotion,
Proving the world wrong with her wonderos body
Fighting adversity for new change
She will build a new way
For trans souls to become strong,
beautiful people in a world strange
Krinjal Mathur
Sitting there with sorrow in her soul
Her heart hurt
Screaming was all that could be heard in the background
As tears rolled down her face
Why had she been cursed this way?
As her only attack was covering her ears
The crying and yelling always first entered her body through the ears
She loved her mom so, but had that man given her a jaded, aching soul
Why does he act this way?
Pushing around pain and hurt
Up into her face
Creating that noise incessantly playing in the background
She had felt, for him, she was a background
Nothing but listening ears
A matching face
Barely even a mentioning soul
As she had nothing left but hurt
Only that one way
He never let anyone in his way
Otherwise in the background
Only coming to the forefront during times of hurt
He never using his ears
With a cold, dark soul
How could a smile form on that face?
There were no good feelings on that face
As his hand moved in a swift, fluid way
Any good leaving his nonexistent soul
He splattered red upon the background
Shrieking is heard in her ears
Hurt
In her mother’s eyes, she saw the hurt
Her distorted face
The ringing in her ears
The only way
Was to blend in the background
Slipping away like her mother’s soul
She no longer has a soul
As that man continues to hurt
Watching her in the background
Scars across her face
And as she sees her mother, she looks the other way
As she no longer listens with her heart and now only with her ears
Albert Hsieh
Krinjal
Sitting there with sorrow in her soul
Her heart hurt
Screaming was all that could be heard in the background
As tears rolled down her face
Why had she been cursed this way?
As her only attack was covering her ears
The crying and yelling always first entered her body through the ears
She loved her mom so, but had that man given her a jaded, aching soul
Why does he act this way?
Pushing around pain and hurt
Up into her face
Creating that noise incessantly playing in the background
She had felt, for him, she was a background
Nothing but listening ears
A matching face
Barely even a mentioning soul
As she had nothing left but hurt
Only that one way
He never let anyone in his way
Otherwise in the background
Only coming to the forefront during times of hurt
He never using his ears
With a cold, dark soul
How could a smile form on that face?
There were no good feelings on that face
As his hand moved in a swift, fluid way
Any good leaving his nonexistent soul
He splattered red upon the background
Shrieking is heard in her ears
Hurt
In her mother’s eyes, she saw the hurt
Her distorted face
The ringing in her ears
The only way
Was to blend in the background
Slipping away like her mother’s soul
She no longer has a soul
As that man continues to hurt
Watching her in the background
Scars across her face
And as she sees her mother, she looks the other way
As she no longer listens with her heart and now only with her ears
Albert Hsieh
Advantage you
“Give me more money”, you say
“That Iphone is what I need”.
“Why won’t you let me do anything”!
“You can’t tell me what to do”!
“I wish I had different parents”
“I hate you”.
The way you treat the ones who love you
Is very disheartening I would say.
They are your parents
They sometimes don’t know what you need.
They sometimes don’t know what to do
But they will try anything.
Why does your generation believe they can do anything?
“Our generation” sometimes includes you.
You can’t just do
Whatever everyone else says
You should learn to control your needs
And be grateful to have your parents.
Other parents
Won’t give you anything.
They don’t know what you need.
Other parents may like you
But will never say
They love you like your parents do.
They will make sure they do
Everything for you because they’re your parents!
They will always say
They would give anything
To make you
Be happy and have all that you need.
They aren’t lying when they know what you need
They do
What makes you
Happy, so don’t take advantage of your parents.
Be thankful, for anything
Can happen to them, and you’ll never be able to say
What you want to really say, that you need
Them and love anything and everything they do
For your parents will be gone and you can never say to them “I love you”.
Charisse Bongoo
War Within Us
In this place we call home
We live in fear of our neighbors
Constantly running from ourselves
Like turtles, we hide within our shells
Afraid of the lies we sell and tell
This world, this community, this is a battlefield
Some kids fight in their own battlefield
Some kids are too scared to go home
Some kids don’t have anything for show and tell
Some kids are scolded by their prejudice neighbors
Some kids are capable of identifying and using gun shells
Some kids tell us a lot about ourselves
We like to feel bad about ourselves
We like to say love is a battlefield
We like to ponder our uniqueness as the uniqueness of shells
We like to raise a family and establish a home
With a few superficial neighbors
Whether or not they can be trusted, we cannot tell
The story of a man that decided to tell
Is a story about ourselves
Did you forget we were neighbors
Between running from battlefield to battlefield
Regardless of where it is, a home is a home
Even in the midst of flying bomb shells
Kids, elders, and women all hide in shells
One young boy can’t control his diet you can tell
A woman black and blue is on the way home
When’s the last time we took a look at ourselves
Here we are, standing on a battlefield
No one should have to be afraid of their neighbors
We share a common thought as neighbors
We share common shells
We share life on the battlefield
If only we knew who the real enemies were, we could tell
We share the pursuit to “fix” ourselves
We share the dream of a real, safe home
This our home and these men our neighbors
We should forgive ourselves and exchange new forms of shells
We have nothing to tell no one wants to know what really happens on the battlefield.
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