Night Found
Tiffany Unrein
​
Men had stood with guns towards us
As if we were a threat to humanity
The same eight words
Echoing in everybody’s head
This leaving me with my own
Leaving the giver of my life
With her protecting the one thing she’d have left of her own
Devestation starting all around me
As one man has fallen
And in this moment I can only hold on harder
To the only thing I have now
Don’t Be Afraid
Jadyn Larson
​
Don’t let others make you change
Keep your personality strange
People should like you for who you are
Some will admire you from afar.
You should always have courage
Never show any sense of discourage
You will affect many lives
But watch out for the knives.
Friends can stab and friends can hurt
But always get back up and wipe off the dirt
Live in the now for yourself
And put your worries about tomorrow on a shelf.
Never regret anything you do
Don’t ever change your point of view
You can always learn from mistakes you have made
Live in the now and don’t be afraid.
​​
Twelfth Street
Kelsea Rodriguez
Twelfth Street.
Kansas City Missouri.
The most hood part of the hood.
Where I was taught most cops are the kind of people who bring a gun to a food fight.
Where cops get their first kill, they say they are taught that they are just silhouettes not real people.
Just targets ready for their shooting practice.
I was 6 when I first heard people say “shots fired!”
I didn’t know what that meant.
But I knew I heard loud crashes in the sky.
A big hole ripped into the atmosphere.
Little did I know those holes were being ripped into the body of a boy only 8 years older than me.
When I was 6, I saw my first dead body.
A still life painted onto the street blood flooding out of his casket chest like Niagara Falls.
I learned how to stomach death at age 6. It was like a predator with live prey still clawing at the insides.
The beautiful still life turned into a chalk outline, that chalk outline was somebody's son, somebody's brother, somebody’s best friend.
The chalk outline. The blood stain lasted on that sidewalk 2 times longer than his life did.
The blood stains memories like generational trauma.
And the cops never truly understand that he was just a child,
The same age as some of their kids.
That he had a family just like they did,
That he was out there on the street trying to provide for his family just like they are.
But according to them they had no choice it was their life or it was his.
Their story makes it hard to figure out which one of them was the villain in this situation.
My psychologist holds up ink blots, and he asked me what do you see?
I tell him I see a silhouette of the boy I-I mean target, of the enemy, no! Of the child.
No no no no no I see cops following orders they make up for themselves.
I see a silhouette of a boy holding a weapon that was NEVER REALLY there to begin with!
I- I see a cop holding a Semi-Automatic to an unarmed 14 year old just walking around in the park.
I see a brother witnessing the aftermath of a war zone holding a gun to his own temple.
Post traumatic self destruction because he knows that bullet should have been aimed at him and not his little brother.
When we know the only crime this boy committed is being at the wrong place at the wrong time around the WHITE sorry I meant wrong cops.
Growing up here I now realize more about people.
I see cops pass by the park here on Twelfth Street more than I see them pass by an actual crime scene.
I learn that having any other color skin than white in America means realizing there is a thin line between a traffic stop and a cemetery.
Most people don’t realize the only difference between a garden and a graveyard is what you chose to bury in the ground.
At the park I once heard someone say to a group of drunken white guys making up games to play with guns “It must be nice to feel so safe you have to invent new ways to put yourself in danger.”
And I thought to myself that as a brown skinned Mexican saying this to them that it must be nice to feel so safe to have the courage to say that in front of a bunch of confederates holding guns as proudly AS comfortably as poets hold pens here on Twelfth Street.
When the World Stopped
Adriana Foster
​
In a matter of seconds, my world stopped
And I watched as everything began to fall apart around me.
Everything I have ever known changed in those seconds.
A new page turned, no.
A new book;
A book I had never even bothered glancing at
because I thought it was further away.
And now I am thrown directly in the middle of it.
No other option besides going right threw.
I looked down and found myself knee deep in a horrible pit of grief.
Just wallowing in it.
I see no silver lining, no light.
I don’t see how this could get any better.
Days pass and it still didn’t feel real.
Weeks, months, pass.
I still have this ache in my chest,
An ache I have never felt before.
I carry this ache around,
Like it has become apart of who I am.
Months pass and it starts to become an awful reality.
Slowly put back on earth with rough hands;
I will never forget the day
The world stopped.
Contemplations
Jacob O'Conner
“Hope” is a dastardly thing
Giving the devils of mankind false prospects
Sowing the seeds of sorrow
Leading to their utter depletion
They wish to see the world in embers
Those vile creatures
Plowing the fields of chaos
Seeking death, seeking loss
There may be a glimmer
Here and there
Quickly snuffed by the boot of demons
But it always returns
Dull and small
But still there
Waiting
Joe Meier
Seize The Day
​
The way life flows with love
Love that sets us all free
Free as the birds that fly in the sky
Sky that’s as blue as the color of the sea.
We laugh and we cry as we go through this wonderful life
Life that grants us the ability to live
Live as free as the grass on the ground.
Ground as changeable as each and every day we live.
We must break free of our bonds that tie us down below
Below in the ground we are, but we must rise
RIse up and take the day for yourself
You are the only one thats holding you back.
Never back down and control your destiny.
Destiny is what you'll take.
Take and make your own.
Own it because today is your day.
Sleep Paralysis
​
Suffocation in the dark
Vision blinded by the man in the corner
Paralyzed can’t move stuck in place
He looks at me with death in his eyes.
He rests on me. Torture
I move and normal is once again
Beauty
​
Her eyes as blue as the clear sky
Her hair shines like the sun in the summer afternoon
Her smile as beautiful as a blooming rose
Her voice as soothing as a babies laughter
Her walk as confident as a pride of lions
She is gorgeous. She is Earth.
Going Against the Grain
By Isabel Grimes
​
Walking through the halls of the high school
Everyone turns into a blur of compliance
There is no individuality to be seen
Only conformity to make our alliance
​
We turn a blind eye to those who are different
We never see why they are who they are
We only see from the outside looking in
And beyond our noses, we never look far
​
When we antagonize the people who love
It’s easy to see why we are forlorn
But instead of standing up and speaking out
We let society keep them torn
​
With this merry-go-round of monotonous routines
Life slowly turns into a dark hole of woe
No one can say exactly how they feel
So it’s easier to take those feelings and let go
Flashes
Sidse Engsbro
​
Home sweet home.
Only there for a split second.
Disappearing memories.
Mother, o mother
so near, yet so far.
Father, o father
I almost hear your voice.
Then everything is gone.
I close my eyes. Tears.
Salty warm feelings down my cheeks.
The smell of a fresh home cooked meal.
Humming sounds coming from the kitchen.
Mother, o mother is it you?
The glint of her face, shortly.
Touching her pure naked skin,
now only feeling the cold wind.
Butterfly
Alyssa Boos
butterfly
f l a p
f l a p
f l a p
your wings against the cold bitter wind
breathe
butterfly
breathe
do you care about the crisp frost biting your lungs?
the metallic, cold-blooded
taste fills your mouth, a
S H A R P
knife cuts one of your buttercup colored wings
the winds s a e the leaves
h k
howling for a release from its cage
​
humans slip and slide, coming in to collide
you fly by
nothing bothers you butterfly
the rain f
a
l
l
s down like the snow that wisps in your face
butterfly,
how did you make it so far wrapped in silver
and
coated in broken glass?
My Tin Foil Poem
Kelsea Rodriguez.
Tin foil
Every time I use tinfoil I can’t help to think of the way her eyes shine each and every time I tell her I love her.
A diamond sparkling in the most raw sunlight.
Like the glistening of twinkling stars on the night I had my first kiss.
It’s the sparkling when we used to watch the sunset on the purest ocean water.
The raw moment when the light does a beautiful ballet dance along the turquoise oasis.
It is the shining full moon shone on the night you find your first love.
When I hear the tinfoil rumple I can't help but think of loud ocean waves crashing onto shore.
Reminding me of the muffled sharp screams that she cried out when he forced himself inside her.
But the screams were hidden behind a pillow as if a pillow could catch all the fear in her throat when no one would help her despite all her desperate cries out.
It is a roaring scream when you cry out for the one you love whom you lost.
As crushing as the sound every bone in your body makes when the person you loved most decides you are no longer worth their time.
Breaking and crashing as the sounds your heart makes when she finally breaks your heart to where it will no longer heal.
As thunderous as the darkest most loud storms on the night you spent in your room crying into the oblivion that you never knew existed inside of you.
The loud and lonely TV static because we used to watch all my favorite shows together, now, I have no idea what I can watch that wouldn’t remind me of the times we laid together watching them.
When I feel the smooth texture of Tinfoil I can’t help to think of the smoothness of the face I would clasp when I kissed him.
The silky softness of his hair that I would race my fingers through every inch when we cuddled.
It has the rough edges like his voice when he gets upset with me but tries to hold back his roars.
It is also as soft as our voices get when we tell one another “I love you..”
But it is the sharp razors edge my best friend used to slit her wrist for the last time before I was forced to say goodbye too soon.
Before she got to experience her first love.
Too soon to realise that she is loved not just by me but her parents and everyone else around her.
IT IS the sharp point of the dagger I used to use to rip open my skin because people made me believe that my skin was meant to be paper.
It’s the film I used to record my life story that almost stopped filming when I was age 9,11,12,14,16, and 17 because this movie star was not cut out for her film.
The powerful kitchen knife I would hide under my pillow because I was afraid at any moment my moms boyfriend would sneak in to “play” and man I feared “play time.”
The way tinfoil feels as slippery as snakes trying to make me believe their my true friends when all along they plan to stab me in the back with the same dagger they know almost ended my life before.
When I taste the metallicness of tinfoil I can’t help but think of the blood that dripped out of her mouth as I watched him punch her but was too petrified to do a thing because I knew if I stepped in I would become the next punching bag and I wasn’t healed enough from the last boxing match.
As silver as the iron cold heart everyone I love eventually shows me they have when they decide to do me wrong.
I can’t help to think of the smell of the inside of my piggy bank after working all summer trying to save up for new school shoes that I never get to have because my family is poor and “moms cigarettes are more important than shoes with no holes.” Or my foster momma “ain’t wasting her hard earned money buying a kid that ain’t even her owns new shit” even though DFS sends them checks once a month just for this kind of thing.
When I crumple up tinfoil I can’t help to think that the sound it makes is the sound of the loud pouring rain against the leaky tin roof of the house I lived in when I was an infant.
The one I knew for 4 years while my momma was in prison and I was forced to live with my tia.
And when it’s finally crumpled it reminds me of how crushed and torn as the heart that you left in side of me is when you said goodbye to me for the last time.
Friday Night Viking
Alyssa Boos
As the sun begins to set students aspirations spiral upwards
All dressed in black, gasping for breath, they sing and they chant
Lights illuminate the crowd, the spotlight supporting the team
A painted green turf full of chances lies in front of the bleachers
As the football players get ready for kickoff the students start to get antsy
Interlocking their hands they sing a song of victory
‘Red and blue, colors true, may we fight to keep them bright,’
Teenagers beam with pride as a blurry football flies across the field
The game has started, the Vikings are voyaging towards another win
Touchdown, the crowd goes crazy, dancing and praising their players
All of a sudden, a student calls it
A ripple of hands go up and down, the wave has started
Pictures of the game are posted on Snapchat, Instagram, Mike Monaghan’s Twitter
Excitment fills the air while stomps and claps echo through the wind
If one person falls the Vikings will unite and pick the team back up
Tonight the Vikes will beat their rivials, they’ll finally take those wildcats out
Cheerleaders smile on the sidelines, leading and cheering, hoping to make the crowd hear
Vikettes dance their hearts out as they backflip and twirl around the field
The band plays louder than ever, drums beating as hard as the student’s hearts
As the halftime mark comes to an end the bleachers bounce and tremble with anticipation
A player falls, the students sit down, hoping and waiting for him to get off of the ground
Nails are bitten while students wonder how serious the injury is
Suddenly our star player is pulled up, he can play again
Students stand up shouting hooray, they can finally take Hayden’s breath away
Neck and neck the Vikings cry waiting for a winning kick
It all comes to this, one more touchdown and the vikings steal another victory
Seconds feel like minutes then the crowd stands and celebrates
Seaman High has kicked their rivals to the dirt and are on a search to another winning Friday night
Students laugh and dance around in an electified joy
Waving goodbye to their friends as they catch rides back home
As they jump into bed and sigh in relaxation they remember
This is why they are a Viking with pride
​
“My Voice"
~Claudia Inman
​
I.
I hear your every breath as you lean over me
Your voice mimics that safe feeling I once had
Now slipping from my grasp
I am alone
You were my friend
I believed the lies you told
My only sense of sanity stripped from me
I’m left locked away in my own heart
Did they listen when I told them?
I struggled to speak, but did they even listen?
I’m left here staring the truth dead in the face only to be doubted
Are you listening?
They told me everything would be okay
I listened
Am I okay?
That’s the question I still ask myself and yet there be no answer
I confide only in the ones who love me
Hoping to find the key
Deafening distractions pull them away from me
I am forgotten
Not one single tear falls from my face
All emotion I once had now lost
I see you when I close my eyes
I hear your voice as you come closer
You are always there
They say every choice you make comes with a consequence
I live with mine everyday
Where are yours?
I still feel you even when you're not there
And that’s what scares me most
I feel your hands wrapped around my neck
Holding me so tight I struggle to breathe
I open my eyes and you disappear
Why must you do this to me?
I ask myself the same questions day and night
Still no answer
Back again when the sun goes down and I close my eyes
As time passes by I try to forget
Yet here you are
You never fail to exist in my mind
And no one knows
My voice will be heard
They may not be listening but
I will be heard
You try to break me
I felt myself crumbling
Pieces of me fading away
Until
Him
II.
He has seen my pain
And through that he sees you
Together we will fight
And never give up
You will not win this battle
He picks up my pieces
He puts me back together again
He’s my foundation
He will always be there
Rebuilding what you have destroyed
I am not alone
I have found my key