The complex poem

1. The safety pin hangs on for dear life
2. Never losing it’s clutch
3. Closing an unnoticeable hole on a forgotten shirt
4. Visible only to the one wearing it
5. The sleeves folded together, hanging on the fold up chair
6. Lifeless and unnoticed
7. A single dangling earring is on the desk
8. Alone, without a companion

1. the pink lipstick no longer holds its tease
2. the red nail polish no longer seems to please
3. the once appealing smile no longer seems to ease
4. the pain and sorrow can only continue to procede
5. misery is the only thing he sees
6. the voice of disparity through his ears impedes
7. His life now empty, no longer has needs
8. like bee-less hives to fruitless trees

1. his attention turned to the mirror
2. His back slightly slouches
3. as he tries to straighten his collar
4. but no pleasure comes from that
5. the pastel blue vase sits on the window shield
6. The old picture frame with no picture beside it
7. life is like the last page of a notebook
8. looking out side the sun hid it’s face behind the gray clouds

safety pin

Ripped shirt

fold up chair

1 dangling dusty gold earring

desk

pink lipstick

Red nail polish

crumbled notebook paper

mirror

window

blue vase

picture frame

Julia Le

Mysterious Darkness

By: Naila Khan

I walk and walk around in this empty house

I know I’m in search for something

Although I do not know exactly what to search for.

Was it the screw for my lamp’s dangling head which sits next to my bed?

Or perhaps the my stats book which is underneath the pile of clothes,

Filled with unfinished homework

I doubt that though, I’m becoming restless

What did I need to find?

Being home alone doesn’t help my mind

I just wished my brain was not so twined

Am I seriously this blind?

I wish someone could just come and remind

Me and be so kind.

There is nothing behind

Only if I could remember, even something which affined

What was it, where is it?

My Safire ring on my cracked counter top?

The tv remote which is still under my pink couch?

My mother’s tan bottle of medication, the unfinished packet of candy?

My brain, heart, and soul becoming more impatient

The cold darkness from outside was filling my lighted house

Darkness, hmm, was it related to that?

Now I’m late, darn, but should I go before I find it?

Oh well, I’ll just have take this coat into the outside cold, perhaps ill remember.

I am home

Looking out the window

Blinded by the mounds of white,

Reminding me of the chopsticks I used earlier

Taking the appearance of wobbling ducks

The landing strip is near, cotton balls no longer visible

No longer does my cellphone get signal

I have arrived home

Although the beauty is hidden to the naked eye, it’s all visible to me

Open fields, animals running free

Enjoying the humid air

Welcomed with hammy down rain boots, dirty and wet

Slobbered and licked by the house pet

Determined to gobble all the freshly baked cookies that came from Jeanette

Unsuccessful he gives up and we all admire the forming sunset

As I take everything in I realize that this is where I belong

Being awaken every morning by the animals melody

No more brown pizza boxes

Now fresh milk

Accompanied by homemade tortillas

Dancing in the rain with my umbrella picking bright red apples

Wearing our family pearl earrings and favorite baby blue bow

Comfortable knowing this is my culture

I am home

With the sky now clearing, a rainbow is formed

-Patricia Gonzalez

A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Woman

How could my bed no longer be comforting?

When did my favorite DVD become a glaring depiction of how incomplete I am?

Fifteen years being this person and I don’t recognize the reflection in the mirror.

Perhaps that is untrue.

It was only once I truly looked at that reflection that I was ashamed.

Where did this self-loathing come from?

It must have been the books, or all that time on the couch, useless.

I would never feel right again, I’d been shattered like a vase or lamp during a bombing.

My sophomore year in high school felt like the end.

Like all that was in me was a broken soul burning in an eternal fireplace, unable to mend.

No matter what I did or how much time I would spend,

Trying to feel normal again, to escape the pain, to transcend,

Nothing changed. I had to try though, to pretend

Like everything was all right. It was impossible to comprehend

That it was me. Mine own deluded mind, only wanting to befriend

The person within that was waiting and ready to defend.

Eight months of depression and all I got was a 17-page manifesto of a distraught teenager.

But I learned that I was not worthless. I had family and friends, all who loved me.

I did not need anything else in my life to make me happy.

That other happiness would come someday, and blossom like an orchid.

In the picture frame now lays a memory of hope, of new beginnings.

I see the stuffed animal elephants and care-bears on the windowsill, filled with an undying love.

As I go through life’s simple chores, refilling the cat food and birdseed, I stare into the sky.

The left over wisps of clouds show through the palm trees but a deep, true blue is on its way.

Laura O’Hagan

The Clockwork King

Through these glasses, days go by

The same name mounts the same plaque

Pinned to the wall as my own definition.

This single card in a wild deck, next in the order

To be thrown playfully into the terracotta pot.

Still empty, an untouched piece of art

Mounted on a bar stool, under the blaze

Streaming from a damaged flashlight.

Revamped into something bold

Yet still abiding what has been told.

A readily sharp chef's knife grown old

Prepping a frozen TV dinner still cold.

Far from any exquisite gold

This piece cannot be sold

For within the sketch book’s fold

A big red X paints pages annulled.

A secret drawn shut at closing time

Behind opaque green shower curtains

Stored away between the stacks of blank CD's

And locked behind a chain link fence

No stronger than a looped box of twist ties.

Teetering on the border of exposure.

As a sullen song leaks from a black violin

Under the rumbling clouds of the clacking mahjong tiles.

-Terracotta pot

-Sketchbook

-Glasses

-Deck of cards

-Box of twist ties

-Stacks of blank CD's

-Old chef's knife

-Bar stools

-Name plaque

-Green shower curtains

-Damaged flashlight

-Black violin

-Mahjong tiles

Jason Tse

List:

1. cleats

2. crutches

3. bone earrings

4. book

5. pen

6. field hockey stick

7. spoon

8. jacket

9. toothbrush

10. applesauce

11. milk

12. eyeliner

13. lamp

The Calm Prevails

By Liz Licea

The lamp turns on in the morning,

It is time to leave.

Looking at myself in the mirror,

There’s heavy black eyeliner upon my eyes,

And milk bone earrings upon my ears.

Readying myself; I use the pen and exit.

Preparing for the long car ride ahead

My eyes loosen as they rest upon a book.

When we arrive; there’s an impending cold,

I take my jacket, shining gold

And as the field starts to unfold

With field hockey sticks in hand, we run so bold.

The game starts in one minute, we are told,

Once it begins I hope my cleats can uphold,

When the whistle blows, my breathing’s controlled,

The enemy hits my foot violently, I scold

But I calm my behavior to continue playing,

My foot shouting pain, I disregard it.

I must fight, I must not feel,

Nothing applesauce can’t heal.

I’ll be in crutches, I know

So the urge rises to hit her,

Expose the anger with toothbrush and spoon in hand

But I must calm myself, so I look around

To the peaceful wind and sun together.

Gabrielle Arroyo

Every day going to the sad mess,

The one that can’t be helped

One where everyday their lives are filled with stress.

4 AM we’re out of bed.

Mazatlan, Mexico is already hot and humid.

Long sleeves, big hats, tubs of sunscreen.

We not only build their windows, but we serve as one,

A clearing into another way of life, one of security and quite literally, shelter.

As we trail through the hasty cardboard shields

A sea of children with no shoes nip at our heels

Grabbing, yelling, and running, as if with a freedom to do whatever one feels

In this case not so free but with a demeanor that steals.

Their look of fascination while we work their eyes as open peels

“Helping” however they can, now unaware of their empty stomachs and nonexistent meals

Not we, however, as we overwhelm them with water and a table of food rolled in on wheels

My heart overwhelming as well as all children, at the table for prayer, kneels.

Not only are we building homes, we’re building bonds,

Teaching them unconditional love in their oversized desks

Small hands clutching awkwardly to oversized pencils.

We play games and have prizes they have never seen:

Stuffed animals that exude sheer ecstasy

A simple bracelet that evokes unimaginable gratitude

We all stand together gazing out a window in their brand new, one room home,

Welcoming the refreshing breeze and the endless clear skies.

Noteboek-Thought you would like this

The Photo Project #5-Christina Zuniga

We took some time to look at the wonderful film RIVERS AND TIDES. The film is a look into the work of Andy Goldsworthy, the artist. The students were to make three pieces of their own that echoed or dealt with issues Goldworthy may have considered. The files for these pieces take up a lot of room so I'm trying to include as many as I am able in a post but may have to do so individually. Above is the work of Christina Zuniga.

The Photo Project #4-Liz Licea

We took some time to look at the wonderful film RIVERS AND TIDES. The film is a look into the work of Andy Goldsworthy, the artist. The students were to make three pieces of their own that echoed or dealt with issues Goldworthy may have considered. The files for these pieces take up a lot of room so I'm trying to include as many as I am able in a post but may have to do so individually. Above is the work of Liz Licea.

The Photo Project #3-Julia Le

We took some time to look at the wonderful film RIVERS AND TIDES. The film is a look into the work of Andy Goldsworthy, the artist. The students were to make three pieces of their own that echoed or dealt with issues Goldworthy may have considered. The files for these pieces take up a lot of room so I'm trying to include as many as I am able in a post but may have to do so individually. Above is the work of Julia Le

The Photo Project #2-Laura O'Hagan

We took some time to look at the wonderful film RIVERS AND TIDES. The film is a look into the work of Andy Goldsworthy, the artist. The students were to make three pieces of their own that echoed or dealt with issues Goldworthy may have considered. The files for these pieces take up a lot of room so I'm trying to include as many as I am able in a post but may have to do so individually. Above is the work of Laura O'Hagan.

The Photo Project- Based on the environment-Angelica Flores

We took some time to look at the wonderful film RIVERS AND TIDES. The film is a look into the work of Andy Goldsworthy, the artist. The students were to make three pieces of their own that echoed or dealt with issues Goldworthy may have considered. The files for these pieces take up a lot of room so I'm trying to include as many as I am able in a post but may have to do so individually. Above is the work of Angelica Flores.

The Sestina

This may be the most difficult exercise yet. The sestina is a very demanding form and students were further constrained by having to deal with a social issue in the poem. I feel they did a wonderful job.

The Bullied

By Liz Licea

A boy feels out of place

For he is shy and he is small

The tall guys bother him all the time

They insult him, they call him a coward,

People notice but they don’t care all over the school,

And he has no friends, no one helps him.

The first time, he cried, people saw him

He was cornered into an empty place

It was near the back of the school,

He didn’t know what to do, he felt small

And that’s when he realized he was a coward

Because he could not defend himself that time

Damaged people they are, that’s how they enjoy their time

It’s fun to pick on him

And not only him but also other cowards,

They find them in certain places

And they make them feel small,

This happens in many unfortunate schools.

Big bullies in every school

Make fun of kids that don’t belong in this time

Because they dress funny and most of them are small

Like the kid I mentioned above, that is him,

They tend to find him in the same place

Why doesn’t he fight back? Why is he a coward?

Panic shouts in his face, and the word plastered on his forehead, coward

Why does it happen to him in this school

He should run away from this wretched place,

They treat him like garbage, he needs to find the right time

But if he could eliminate him

Everything would be fine, his reputation would increase, he wouldn’t be so small.

But how to deal with feeling small?

The fear always intervenes, and inside, the coward.

He wishes he could punch him

Deal with the big guy once and for all to help this school,

He will have to do it, he must this time

He simply needs to find a good place.

He knows the place where he could potentially make him small

Isolating him from his friends at the right time, he will show he is a coward,

The whole school will see and the bully will die, no one will ever be scared of him.

The Pain of Love

All of life as I know it is pain

The days have past when there was only love

Every drip and every drop of blood

Saturates and corrupts my only haven, my mind.

Without that I will have no place left to hide

My sanity will soon leave me buzzing off like a fly.

But to be one of them, to be a fly

Oh what I wouldn’t give to flee from the pain

Find somewhere safe, comforting, and warm to hide

But then I would cry and miss my love

The way he holds me and caresses me, imprinted on my mind

Deeper and more powerfully rooted than the blood

But never his, only mine, my blood

Slipping through the cracks, exiting my flesh, like flying

I am away, when he’s there, far away in my mind

And only when I come back is there pain

More than ever though is there love

Unconditional and unyielding, even when I hide

In this world or in my own, I always hide

My thoughts, my feelings, my blood

All that I am is hidden, save for my love

The one that knows all and still I want to fly

Down and alone in the earth with the pain

All alone at last, me and my mind

We can stay there and prosper as one mind

One entity, one being, no longer able to hide

And there will be only us, no more pain

No more fighting, no more blood

No need to leave, or flee, or fly

Just alone in our unity, our love

We can live together in that love

That devotion devoid of changing minds

Without any want or cause to fly

But how can we be like this? How can we hide?

Others will see, will know the trail of blood

The one that leads to our hide-away, our pain

But the pain is what makes us love

The drops of blood sticking in my mind

With nowhere left to hide, I want to fly.

...Laura O’Hagan

Rape

By Naila Khan

I found a body once of a girl who was dead

At first I thought she was only hurt

But once I realized her state I became afraid

Afraid of all the unknown danger

That now had come upon me

I quickly realized that there had been a rape.

This made me think, why is there rape?

The humanity of rapist must sure be dead

The thought is scary of this happening to me

Minds must be traumatized with a wound that would endlessly hurt

All rapists should have a taste of the danger

That has spread across the world for girls, now afraid

But why are these girls so afraid?

Is there no way to protect them against rape?

Can they not imply that they, too, are danger?

Show that the ending would be of them dead

If a person slightest tried to hurt

Any girl, and along with me.

　

And since I thought of this, who should be the leader but not me

Of course many girls would first be afraid

Afraid that they will get hurt

Because this topic should not be taken lightly, rape

most of the victims end up dead
A rape follows with a lifetime of danger

There at many horrifying things that are brought by danger
No one can understand, even me
Every dream and goal of the victim are gone and dead
They spend the rest of the lives afraid
It is a dreadful thing this rape
Ten minutes of joy only bring that victim to hurt

Hurt for months and years, just hurt
Sometimes those victims, for themselves, become danger
It destroys the inside of people, this rape
Today the thought rape has hit me
And has also made me afraid
How inhuman of a human could see someone end up dead

I do not want anyone to end up dead
I do not want anyone to be hurt

I do not want anyone to be afraid
I do not want anyone to be surrounded by danger

I do not want anyone to have to come across a victim like me
And I do not want anyone to suffer through rape.

*

I’m not sure what happened, no one seems to remember

because each time I hear a different story

But what never changes is the silence

That follows every time I ask: where’s Tom?

What happened has already been forgotten

All we were sure of is that he is dead

The clock strikes 10 and he was already dead

He was suppose to remember

to take out the trash, but that was forgotten

for he was no where to be found. This is the story

of a young man name Tom

and how his world became silence

In the church there was only silence

The leaves have fallen and the dandelions were dead

Fall came and left and winter knocked Tom’s

door. His misery was the only thing he could remember

And he was the only one who knew the story

in this world alone, he was forgotten

Life not worth living he wanted to be forgotten

Only in his room was where he could find silence

He reminisced on a life with no story

What was once love and happiness is now dead

“If I was gone no one would remember

A plain, forgettable, insignificant name like Tom”

In front of the mirror staring back was Tom

To comb his hair and wash his face he had forgotten

The happy, joyous times he can’t remember

He listens to his heart as it beats in silence

As if he veins were empty, he already felt dead

And here is the beginning of an ending story

As I listen to his mother tell the story

Of how she walked into the room that once was Tom’s

to find him hanging, breathless, dead

swaying mid-air, he had forgotten

to tie his shoes. The laces swung in silence

But the knot that held his life he remembered

Do your remember the life story of that one guy?

Who sat in silence in the back of the class? Was his name Tom?

Perhaps you have forgotten, too late now, his name is now dead

....Julia Le

Living in a world

Where life is difficult to live

Where neighborhoods create

Dangerous circumstances

Where access to drugs

Are easy but dangerous games

At first it starts with friends who you laugh and play games

All of a sudden there’s friendships that may seem your world

But instead are friendships that connect you to drugs

That’s when you decide how you want to live

Think about your family and their circumstance

What kind of future will you create?

Then you start selling, start using and create

A life where you hide like a hide and seek game

From cops and family in a difficult circumstance

Because you want a better world

For them, so that they can eat and live

And the only thing that will help you get ahead is selling drugs

But these drugs

A monster they will create

You will act differently, careless, addicted but you want to live

Its all fun and games

You say but your world

Is spinning and you can’t bear your circumstance

What circumstance?

Where your starving brothers and sisters are forced to be around drugs

Teaching them that drugs are the way to make money, to live in a better world

What kind of children will you create?

The ones who get into trouble, become addicted and not play little kids games

Is that the way you want them to live?

You want them to live

A different and find better life than you considering the circumstances

No games

No drugs

You are going to create

A better world

A better world to live in

Will create better circumstances

Without drugs and games

...Angelica Flores

Sestina

I am your addiction

You will stand by me in faithfulness

I will be with you in the dark

I am your fulfillment and your emptiness

You are never alone

You have fallen into my delightful circle

I fell in love with this circle

But it is not an addiction

For some reason I can never leave it alone

I live through its faithfulness

I no longer feel the emptiness

I am with it, even in the dark

It lights up majestically in the dark

It can leave a scar shape as a circle

A white stick cures emptiness

The tobacco stuffed inside is my addiction

I am pledging faithfulness

There is no way I would ever want to be alone

She refuses to leave me alone

She says I’m always in the dark

But she does not see this faithfulness

The only way to know is by belonging to the circle

And abiding by its rules

She can grow to love the emptiness

She left me abandoned in the emptiness

I am sitting with this cigarette alone

She was my true addiction

But I couldn’t see that in the dark

Is there anyone else in this circle?

Am I the only one with this faithfulness?

What called on this faithfulness?

Is there anyone else that can join me in this emptiness?

I hear there are many in the circle

But I’m still alone

I guess I’ll sit here in the dark

Waiting to end this addiction

This disgusting circle based on faithfulness

Is composed of nothing but addictions and emptiness

Now I am alone in the dark

...Christina Zuniga

This is a new world still full of old doubt

Missing the systemic cogs of justice,

Leaving the isolated halves in fear.

A suicidal turning of silence

Marked by the graves of the anonymous,

Leaving an astringent taste of that urge.

A hard bite onto one’s lips rends the urge,

Casting thoughts of careless, neglectful doubt,

Blaming the cause that’s now anonymous,

Calling for explanations from justice

But receiving only echoed silence.

Bestowed from that regret is helpless fear.

The very same ticking victimized fear

Blooms violently to a bloodthirsty urge,

Crying for the end of disgraced silence,

Erasing even the logical doubt,

To gain right to the exclusive justice

From the shadows known as anonymous.

“He was such a behaved anonymous”

Is a line that’s not delivered from fear

But rather for sympathetic justice.

Dry tears for an unnecessary urge

That dispels all unbelievable doubt

And sends the grim case downstream in silence.

Bounded in taboo, spoken in silence.

The case labeled cold and anonymous,

Closed and solved beyond all plausible doubt

Except the route of societal fear.

Beating unsoundly, an explicit urge,

A cannibalistic sense of justice.

What good is absolutely blind justice

When unwillingly muted in silence?

Who’s to carry on this festering urge

Of the ever growing anonymous

And arraign the many advents of fear?

When will eyes cast a light upon these doubts?

This doubt that stains what is left of justice,

Yet fear of this system begs for silence.

Forever anonymous is this urge.

...Jason Tse

Patricia Gonzalez

DR. Wagner

Walking down the hallways I notice the difference

I know where the boy’s eyes are starring

Skinny waist, perfect body

They didn’t even take a second glance at me

Walking the hallways being invisible

No one notices no one cares

My parents don’t even care

I don’t want there to be a difference

I no longer want to be invisible

I want the attention the starring

I want to be perfect no longer imperfect me

I want the body

Limit on food for the body

I will make everyone care

As weeks pass I know something is different in me

Everyone else also notices the difference

People begin starring

My coat is no longer invisible

My extra baggage is becoming invisible

Less food for my body

Means more attention and more starring

My parents still don’t seem to care

My body still has not made a big enough difference

I’m still imperfect me

Although I’m half my original weight my parents still don’t notice me

I am still invisible

Why don’t they notice, everyone else notices the difference

I look in the mirror I still see imperfections in my body

No one seems to care

I no longer get the usual compliments or starring

My parents now looking down starring

They notice me

They are crying, they do care

They see me, I am no longer invisible

They see my lifeless body

I have finally made a difference

I wanted the same kind of starring, but everything I did made no difference

Pushed my body to its limits, now look at me

Covered by dirt now truly invisible, but they care

...Patricia Gonzales