Daily Exhibition

By Sophia L.

On display, 24/7, our bodies have become the sole 

thing we have control over 

How delicate this instrument is, every time we lift our eyes to see the naked world ahead of us  

The world we live in is a matter of hanging onto what we have left 

Occasionally, splotches and drips of red appear  

 

Peripheral vision blurred  

Neons lights of orange and blue trace the curves on 

my face and neck,  

exposing the flesh and muscle and bone  

Around me, the instruments are out of tune; 

heads turned away from one another     

Their bodies in use, but their minds in shambles  

 

Do I remain to cling tight onto what I have left? 

My world is unfinished: a city left in chaos, am I 

seeing in color?  

Am I in London’s underground? 

Phlanages desperately clinging to the bar I raised for myself  

 

Shoulder blades leveled, sweat swimming down my 

back,  

pupils blinded by the flood of light  

Oh so simply, like the feeling of complete abyss, 

I let go 

 

The Path of the Silent Stone

By Jesse S.

Footsteps tremble

On the cold wet ground

The sky shudders

As tears of rain come falling down

The September sun

Hidden by mausoleum secrets

A lookout on the hill

Crying for whoever’s next

Cherry Blossoms glide down 

Pink mingling with the white of death

Paving a tainted path

To those with no more breath

In the quiet fields 

Of a disconnected Earth

Lays a silent stone

Placed with no more mirth

Leaves tangle about it

Gripping the pink and white

Marble of red,black, and brown

Absorbing all the light

Sleeping child stills

As we approach her home 

Mourning for her lost

Marked by The Path of the Silent Stone

 

Loving Repetition

By Danielle A.

I still wonder what her love means to you 

A beaming heart that hid a twisted core 

I always knew there was a hidden truth 

The sharpened blades of her double-edged sword 

 

Years later, pebbles went into the blue 

They drowned together, spinning to the floor 

It is safe to assume love bites too soon 

Did you ever regret leaving me for more? 

 

I could hear the laughter and smell the booze 

Feel the thunder cry across the tan shore 

I was the lucky girl who had a clue 

That roses always come with thorns 

 

I still wonder what her love means to you 

Not yet a dream, only a faded tune 

The Mark

By Caidan P.

It was a steady, darkened night

When out of nothing, here it was

There upon the desk I wrote at

Had appeared a glooming mark

And unsure if friend or foe

As night pursued, I wholly harked

 

‘Twas the image of a dagger

Stabbed into the cushioned mat

That had read my twisted poems

As I stood there, harked, then sat

So I peered about my desk

To no avail, I found no rat

 

As there were none to rat out

I blamed the cursed sigil there

To be the work of no one other

Than the man who spent his care

Sweating at the desk all night

Writing in his darkened lair

 

It was me! a friend and foe

How could I be so unsure?

When all this fright of the Mark

Was my only threatful cure

Of becoming the insane man

That I had known to be pure

And of this (I can assure!)

That there cannot be a cure

 
 

A Saga of Death's Survivors

By Jesse S.

Billions once stood

On this burning broken rock

They cried

They ran

They fought 

They stood

They didn’t understand nature’s war

For each step they took

Cyanide dripped onto her lush skin

And as that venom sank

And settled into her veins

She went mad.

 

Birds no longer sang

Just whimpers on their beaks

Bugs no longer chirped 

Only silence filled their ears

A single glare 

Set an island on fire

Only to be cried out

With a flood

A single breath

Sent a hero soaring to the ground 

When she touched them 

She gave us back the poison we gave her

A biological burden that 

Absorbed the people

Who watched her be crippled 

Until she almost gave her last breaths

 

Now we watch

As her broken heart heals

With the influence 

Of the others gone

We can restore Nature

To her former throne

And revive those lost

Due to the actions of our past selves

Finally we will give her life

After centuries 

Of her nurturing us

And perhaps 

That is the way it always should’ve been 

 

dysphoria

By Shalala L.

I. 

a new pestilence 

has arrived at your doorstep. handle with care. 

reveal the truth? or let it 

swell? 

 

II. 

a car crashes 

into another. no scars but 

the internal damage is still 

there 

 

III.  

punches and kicks 

protect the torso. save the heart. 

love the brain 

 

IV. 

plague blood red turns 

white into 

scarlet. Death omen? 

 

V. 

the warbler above my window doesn’t 

serenade me anymore, but 

who can sing at 

a time like this 

 

​1 

 

VI. 

there’s no more water 

now. I’m still not 

sure what to say about that. 

just a little parched. 

 

VII. 

people are a little more 

terrified every day. maybe it’s because 

no one listens to the ones that 

know everything 

 

VIII. 

The sun beats down upon the busy streets, 

afflicting the gray concrete with mirages. 

The humidity is almost scalding. Almost. 

 

IX. 

The light at the end of the tunnel 

is a bold 

orange blue. settled anxieties 

and husky haze. deep sleeps to think 

and nights to wake. And every 

body lived their dreams 

 

X. 

You must not live in fear 

 
 
 

Winter

By Jacqueline W.

A long time ago, my grandmother told me,

That there was nothing more important than love you can see

She told me

That in the beginning of the world,

As the autumn leaves curled,

The days grew shorter and the nights longer

She told me that the night animals prowled,

Seizing many good men who were led astray

It’s not my fault, they would say

 

Yes, evil ruled now, Chaos on a throne 

A throne of deception and lies 

A promise to both sides, made too long ago to remember

The good now diminished to a last dying ember

No one could change their destinies

For the world was ending

 

As the moonbeams shone and the snow fell thick

My grandmother lay on her bed sick

She shone through, her rays lighting the way,

Illuminating an imaginary path for anyone who listened

For her name was Hhope

 

As we sit, we can still hear the last forgotten memories of the people of seasons ago

For even if they had fallen in the fight for good, their love lives on

If you listen carefully, you can still hear the moans of the lost in the creak of the ice and the howl of the wind

The sigh of the plants settling in their roots, and the last cry of the mockingbird

 

As my shoes form imprints in the snow, it falls, slowly blanketing the ground. 

The winter wonderland outside bathes the world in a blanket of quietness

The chittering of birds stop, and you can no longer hear the chatter of the squirrels

The air, the river, the mountains 

An empty silence remains, the calm before a storm

I hear the dying cries of my ancestors begging me

A strong blizzard churns inside me, threatening to pull me apart

A battle between good and evil, a battle between jealousy and love 

 

The night sky twinkles with many stars, their light leading the way

Peace settles inside me, and I suddenly hear the music of the world.

The song of the night jay joins in a strange harmony, the song of the old

The ice crystals sparkle, and the bitter gale moans in agony 

This is the song of goodness

This is the song of winter, a time of choice and remembrance

I am one with nature, and I feel my soul being carried away with the wind.

The merry sounds of Christmas fills my ears, my mind, and my heart

My worries drain away and I am a new person

My grandmother was right

Winter always turns into spring.

Who Was I -- Third Grade

By AM

Never trust a judgemental mind 

Because the second something isn’t normal 

Or perfect 

Or beautiful 

It judges 

It tells the world it’s thoughts 

Its ideas 

Everything it can come up with 

That’s mean and designed to make you cry

People aren’t always nice 

Welcome to life 

I hope you enjoy your stay in a society 

That wants you gone or dead far far away

That year their words were thrown like knives 

Not caring if they cut 

Or scared 

Or killed 

The insults knocked me off my feet 

Left me winded and out of breath

They made me dread school 

Because the teachers said they cared 

But they didn’t hear the words exchanged just out of earshot 

They didn’t see the not so friendly punches 

And the nicknames that weren’t jokes

They were either blind 

Or they didn’t care

They lived by the saying

Kids will be kids

But when they grow up what will they be 

Or will they never grow up

Will they always be kids 

Because I don’t like kids much at all

Or school 

Or teachers 

During recess we’d all go out and play 

I didn’t have any friends 

So I played on the tire swing that nobody wanted to be near because it was closest to the teachers

But that’s why I liked it 

One day the teachers stayed inside

My defense was gone

I considered running inside or faking sick 

But it was too late for that 

Nathan and Lilliana were right there 

Third grade bullies

Not a big deal to most

Everyone gets bullied 

They will forget eventually 

They will be fine 

But I didn’t 

And I wasn’t

I guess they forgot that memories are like shadows 

Not always in sight 

But never far

I wish you could lose them just like Peter Pan did

But if I learned anything 

Wishes don’t come true and dreams aren’t a reality 

I got a black eye that day 

From Nathan’s fist 

Everyone was worried 

But I said I just ran into a door

They believed me 

Because they didn’t want to admit I might have problems 

Because my eye didn’t hurt too much at all 

Compared to what Lilliana’s laughs and names did 

I guess sometimes what you hide hurts you the most

I guess a broken bone is easily healed 

I guess a broken heart isn’t.

Time

By Jacqueline W.

I was waiting for dawn’s stately tresses at the intersection, 

For I hail from another time, trapped in its steady undulation

And oh was I waiting!

My feet were sore, my blisters festering,

Night was not day, day was not yet dark,

Yet I have to leave my mark.

 

I had come from another place,

A dream by a childs sweet lips identified a myth

“Tis divinity! A nymph, a fairy, a god!” She exclaimed. 

A heinous sprite- two faced, a damnation common to us all

Or perhaps a fiend professing truth? What truth betrays the definition?

“Tis beauty in misty eyes and smiling mouth!”

 

Insatiable hunger, oh tyrant in peacetime, all for despairing hope 

Is evading the truth, this cowardice, tempest worth?

Or is Death himself, devil crying mercy, with the promise of salvation worth? 

Dare to hope or hope to dream?

 

Lady of the night, oh envious, cunning moon

Lend your gloved hand who stole velvet from the king of Chaos

And starlight for the silk caressing skin

The hand that brought broken dreams

And hated remembrance and brassy love

And lifeless eyes-

 

Give me the gilded key

And let in the glorious sun

For I see her tresses at the intersection

At the intersection between night and day

And old and new.

 

Grow

By Olivia H.

Fixate on your growth 

Your peace, self-love, joy, your hope 

Bathe in knowledge; grow

To Know You

By Renna B.

Let me cut you up into a thousand pieces

And puzzle you back together again

By the time I’m through I’ll have memorized every little detail there ever was to memorize about you

 

Better yet, let me capture you in prismacolor or oil paint

Let me turn you into angles and lines

Let me create my own version of you here on this pale paper

To tide me over until I see you in person once again

 

Well, for the best, you’d better let me fall in love with you

For then I’d spend more hours than ever memorizing your features

Let me stare at you

As you smile

As you laugh

As you cry

Let me fall for all of it

Then I’d truly know you

 

I could spend days fixing your broken pieces

Weeks perfecting my view of you

But none would compare to the way I’d know you

If I were to love you for years

You have to let me, that is if you actually want results

 
 

Nighttime in Quarantine

By Lucy R.

i have a headache 

i have had a headache for two hours 

last month, i would have just taken an advil 

 

instead, i don’t sleep 

there are no more articles for me to read 

they all say the same thing anyway 

 

i could wake my parents up 

and ask them to keep me company 

but then they would ask questions 

and my mind would be too quick with answers 

 

i didn’t drink any water today 

i know that’s why i have a headache 

but i still worry 

why didn’t i drink any water today? 

why wouldn’t i drink any water today? 

this must be my punishment 

doomed to sit at my desk until the world wakes up

Stretch Marks

By Murleve R.

My skin is breaking up. 

It looks like nails have run through it, 

Left it purple and pocketed where it was smooth youth. 

It scared me, 

But I realized it was just more scars: 

My body protesting my fat, 

As if I don’t protest it on my own.

 

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