The Knot 2016

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Knot. An ambivivalent symbolism since all powers of binding also imply those of loosening, of restraining but also uniting; the harder it is pulled, the firmer it becomes and the greater the

union. Knots also represent continuity; a connection; a covenant; a link; Fate; that which binds man to his destiny; determinism; the inescapable. Knots can also be instruments of the en-

chantress, magician or witch, in which the tying of knots is the power and weaving spells. Loos-ening knots is freedom; salvation; the solving of problems. Cutting a knot denotes the taking of

a short, steep path to salvation and realization Buddist: Knots are also associated with infinity and eternity. Chinese: Longevity; binding the good and an obstacle to evil.

Christian: The three knots in the monastic girdle are the three vows of poverty, chastity and obedience.

Hindu: The mystic knot of Vishnu depicts continuity; immortality; infinity. Iranian: The sacred cord, kosti is knotted twice in front and twice behind.

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THE KNOTretied

2015-2016

HOLLYWOOD HILLS HIGH SCHOOL

4

The KnotA Hollywood Hills High School Literary Magazine

Hollywood Hills High School5400 Stirling Road

Hollywood, Florida 33021

Sponsor:Bryan Trimas, M.Ed., NSDA coach

Principal:Mrs. Lourdes Gonzalez

Published by Hollywood Hills High School under the aegis of the School Board of Broward County

Printed by B&W Offset, West Park, Florida, owned and operated by Ron Adler

This literary magazine is copyright 2016 by Hollywood Hills High School. First World Rights only. All individual works remain solely to the property of their creators. All who violate

these rights will be subjucated to imediate alien abduction

I

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This issue’s cover of a blue print signifies planning for the future

and laying out a new foundation for years to come. This year has been

one of transition for our literary magazine’s staff, more so than any oth-

er year. All but one of our staff members is a senior; this isn’t unusual

seeing as the editors are usually in their last year of high school. This

year was different. In a group decision the seniors decided to name the

junior as Editor in Chief because laying out the future for our maga-

zine and our club is not something that could have been done in a sin-

gle year; the task has been given to the member with the most time

left at the school. This year we layed out a blue print for our future

This issue is the embodiment of the 2015-2016 school year through

its students’ eyes. Our layout is more professional than its predecessors’

but still maintains its DIY aesthetic to pay homage to our first issues that

were xeroxed off. We have set a new precedent for future issues and have

managed to keep to our roots. With that I would like to say thank you to

Alex, Disney, Maddie, Rebecca, Sarah and Zach for being the best staff

and friends I could have had in high school. I hope your last year at hills

has been as wonderful as each of you have made my time here. I will miss

working with all of you and hope your transition to a new chapter in your

life goes as successfully as the transition of the magazine has been this year. II

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Editor in Chief:

John Corredor

Literary Editors:

Madison Whatley

Rebecca Saltzman

Layout Editor:

Alexis Vazquez

Zachary Skwarek

Guest Editor:

Sarah Cohen

Secretary:

Disney Witt

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1..6

The Staff

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Since I was a freshman and was put in creative writing, I’ve been a part of the literary magazine. And now, as a senior, looking back on all the lit mags that’ve come out, I get a glimpse into how I and those around me who have remained a part of it have grown. It’s a real tear jerker. Then, when I started helping the editing process, I began to get a glimpse into who

the people around me were. And all those days spent in the closet (though I haven’t been able to spend as much time as I’ve wanted in there this year) reading through stories and poetry and begging peo-ple for their artwork ended up in this book that we had spent all of this hard work on, and I’ve always been so proud of it. The voices in these literary magazines are not those of authors we’ve grown accus-tomed to reading about in our English classes or the few poets from past centuries we hear about. These voices are ours. They’re a raw representation of who we, both as individuals and a generation, are. I’ve found that sometimes I only realize things about myself when I find a way to write about it. Being a part of this magazine and growing with it these past four years has been a great experience. I’m so glad I’ve been able to be a part of. It’s one of those things that if I hadn’t have gotten involved with, I don’t know who I’d be now. Working on Lit Mag and wanting my work to be in Lit Mag made me realize what a passion I have for writing, and now it’s part of how I define myself. I miss the hours spent in Lit Mag closet with the other amaz-ing editors. This will be one of the parts of high school I will miss the most when I go on to college in just a few short months. So I guess, for whoever is reading this, thank you for buying this Lit Mag. Thank you to anyone who has ever bought one or has submitted their work because you have been a part of something amazing.

-Sarah CohenIV

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Since the middle of last year I've been helping out with Lit

Mag. I was never close to anyone in Lit Mag last year until I started sitting in the room with everyone. Hiding under the table, or sitting next to the book shelf reading and flipping pages of different Lit Mags. On top of flipping through books and look-ing at othes' poems, stories, and drawings; being excited about having my art work and poems in one of our Hollywood Hills Literary Magaines. Everyone I have meet in Lit Mag has be-

come a close friend. I'm really thankful to have them in my life and to be in Lit Mag with them. It's funny because, there are seven of us in Lit, and I'm not the only girl, which I'm happy about. I'm happy I've got Maddie & Becca to always talk to while we work while Zach, Alex, & John are making jokes about some-thing. I think over this year, we've all come to be a little bit closer to one another.

-Disney Witt

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The Lit Mag breaks away from the regular limitations set by essay topics or assignment guidelines. It encourages stu-dents to craft in accordance to only the restrictions set by them-selves, and offers an incentive for them to break out the best of their best to get their work written into Hollywood Hills his-tory. It’s the perfect opportunity to finally create for yourself.

Unfortunately, the Lit Mag’s true purpose is of-ten overlooked. Students covet their words in print so much that they feel they must adhere to the Lit mag. Al-

most like worshippers to an Idol. This leads to lackluster work devoid of any passion whatsoever. They ceased crafting for themselves, and started con-structing for the masses in hopes to have their work appear more acceptable.

They must come to realize that the Lit Mag is a vessel for self-ex-pression. If you don’t shine your light on a piece, why do you expect it to have a shadow? Any work lacking the creator’s ideals also lacks a mean-ing. Strive not to walk in the footsteps of the Lit Mag, but to stride be-side it. Only then will you truly use the Lit mag to its fullest potential.

-Zachary SkwarekVI

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This year is my senior year as well as my second year as an editor of this magazine. The Knot is a huge part of my high school experience, but it’s also meant a lot to me in other areas of my life that will continue past high school. To me, working on the literary magazine is so much more than an extracurricular to cite on my college applications. After spending some time trying to find my way in school, I met a very welcoming, talented group of people in the club, and I stuck with them, and it’s been a pleasure

working with them. I know that I’ve made connections that I will cherish for-ever because of The Knot. There is something very special about collecting art with my best friends to publish for others to see, and the fact that anyone would buy this magazine just to see the work of students means a lot to us. Our magazine has been around since the 1980s (my mom and aunt both worked on it back in the day), and although many things have changed, we continue to produce the magazine in a rather DIY fash-ion. There is much common ground amongst the different issues of the magazine. Throughout the years, teenagers have generally written about the same things. It is comforting to know that we share similar experiences, yet we are all unique enough that we can learn from each other while we grow up together during our four years of high school. The Knot has absolutely created a sense of community for me. We want students to know that what they think is important, and we want students to take pride in the things that they create. And in an environ-ment where students who do well in STEM fields are praised, but stu-dents who do well in art and literature are told that they’ll never find a job, I’d hope that this magazine reaffirms for students that art is an integral part of our society. Of course, in working on the mag, we have days where we don’t get any submissions, and we tend to get discour-aged, but we do our best not to let it get to us because the next day we could get a submission that is just wonderful. That’s what keeps us go-ing, keeps us passionate about what we’re doing. Here’s to the artists!

-Maddie WhatleyVII

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As someone who has constantly taken pride in being un-der the radar and part of the outside crowd of people, it’s weird to see that I have helped make and leave a lasting impression on the Lit Mag. Sure, it’s never really been much that’s vis-ible, but I feel proud knowing that I did something I loved. It wasn’t always like this, however. I used to be an antisocial an-ti-club kid who refused to participate in anything worthwhile.

Then after convincing by some talented and eccentric people, I soon after real-ized my talent and joy for acting and writing. I can’t say this year’s transition has been easy for me, but I can bet that every school year it’s been that way for lots of people. I just hope that this magazine can give you a slight glimpse or small shard of the beauty and structure of literary arts that have helped me when I read them. I like that, don’t you? Short and sweet, almost like a cakepop not filled with sugar, just delicious eye candy in the shape of words. I feel like most messages will be conveyed throughout the majority of the editor notes and the literature in the magazine… But you know what you don’t get? Rambling. A full on page on what expresses this editors talent would be nothing if not the most unnecessarily large and wordy note that you would’ve hoped ended lines ago. I hope that I can make this fun for you, or that you enjoy the magazine that John slaved away at, but most of all – I hope you learn that you need to write… Just like I’m doing now awkwardly on this piece of paper, it’s something that evolves, grows, and strengthens with you the more you cross off a word or an idea with your pen. This year had made me scared, feeling that my love of writing and reading might not be a love for what was a good many people anymore. But I know what I can do to change this: it’s to practice the message I’ve repeated and rambled about: to write. So long as I write, I can hopefully inspire someone else to do the same, and then a paragraph filled domino effect can begin for my generation to rekindle it’s flickering love for literature, so write – and I’ll read.

- Alex VazquezVIII

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If you would’ve told me four years ago that

I would be writing poetry, loving it, and be-

ing in a club dedicated to creative writing, I

would’ve said that you were crazy. Up until fresh-

man year, I absolutely hated anything that had

to do with poetry. It was hard to read and under-

stand and I didn’t believe I was creative enough to write poetry.

I didn’t get to pick my classes freshman year and when I looked

at my schedule and saw “creative writing” I was ready to die.

There was absolutely no way I was going to like creative writing.

Fast forward and now I’m a senior, ready to graduate, and I

can’t imagine getting through high school without creative writing

and Lit Mag. Not only have I made great friends and have memo-

ries that I’ll always remember, I learned so much. I learned how

to cope and deal with my feelings better. Instead of keeping it all

bottled up inside waiting to explode, I grabbed a piece of paper

and a pen and I wrote. Lit Mag taught me how to be apart of some-

thing that was bigger than me, and I’ll always be grateful for that.

Words can’t describe how thankful I am for this experience

and the people who I got to share it with. I hope that Lit Mag

continues to have the same effect on people as it had for me.

-Rebecca SatlzmanIX

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This is my junior year of high school and my third year working on The Knot. The other editors and staff mem-bers are all seniors so I’ll be on my own next year (well, not alone but the only returning member). The thought about being here alone to work on the magazine next year both excites and terrifies me. Now I’m not going to get all mushy (I’ll save that for next year’s note) but I do want to tell you that this has been the hardest year for us, what with

the transition from the Ms. Clark generation to the Mr. Trimas era and all. Although both Ms. Clark and Mr. Trimas left us to our own devices (for the most part) the process of publishing this magazine was a lot easier with Ms. Clark because she had a lot of authority in the school and the community, what with being here since 1976. However, this is probably one of the best issues we’ve published since our establish-ment in 1980's. I think we’ve picked up a lot of responsibility since the beginning of the year because we couldn’t “get away” with as much. Getting content this year wasn’t the easiest. We’ve seen our stu-dents progressively losing interest in the arts over the years and this literary magazine is one of the few remaining displays for its ap-preciation. We’ve worked with what we received and wrote what we didn’t have. There are some pieces of work that we would have loved to put in and are great as stand-alone pieces, but didn’t fit with the rest of the content; these would have been a stretch to put in. I would like to thank everyone that was involved in our publish-ing process and everyone who has taken the time to read our literary magazine. The arts are wonderful and I hope that you'll enjoy this issue.

- John CorredorX

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Special Thanks to Some Special People…

Special thanks- to Mr. Trimas, our new sponsor, who humbly took this club under his wing and spent his time and energies to make this possible.

Special thanks- to all who have helped out, like Disney Witt, and provided any creative insight to us.

Special thanks- to the artists like Jennifer Brown, Emmanuel Carcamo, Cristy Martinez, and many more art masters for sticking it to The Man and providing their talents in helping us create this beautiful literary magazine.

Special thanks- to Ms. Eager and her class for providing artwork and inspiration for the writers in creative writing and Ron Adler for printing this wonderful magazine.

Very special thanks to all who have submitted and shared any artwork, photography, prose and poetry. You have contributed to a tradition that has endured the ages.

Art by Valentina Cardona Title Page

Art by Mely Irias I

Art by Valentina Cardona II

Art by Adriana Parrales V

Art by Sam Beckwith VI

Art by Anonymous XI

Art by Enmanuel Carcamos XI

Art by Anonymous XII

Art by Carlo Miguel Laterio XIII

Art by Enmanuel Carcamos XV

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The Poet Always Stays Strong -Rebecca Saltzman 1

Day One -Rebecca Saltzman 2

Art by Jennifer Brown 2

Hidden Key -Carlo Miguel Laterio 3


The Persistence Of Memory -Ciera Farrell 4

Time -Nicolette Schneider 4


Only Time Can Tell - John Corredor 5

All the Things I Should Have Said -Sarah Cohen 6

Art by Ayanah Noel 6

Bottles - Alexis Vazquez 7

Art by Valary Lubih 7

Aurora -John Corredor 8

Antarctica -Brittney Roth 8

Amidst The Breeze -Bria Woods 8

Day Two -Rebecca Saltzman 9

Flower in the Winter -Nicolette Schneider 10

Art by Marissa Richards 10

Sun Flower -Ciera Ferrell 11

Art by Marissa Richards 11

The Real Problem is Me -Jordana Nazim 12

My Heart at Night -Brian Woods 13


Hot Life -John Corrector 14

Art by Sam Beckwith 14

Photography by Ciara Biederman 15

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Can We -Samantha Becker 16

Photography by Paul Gray 16

A.P.D (Automatic Pill Dispenser) 18

Art by SamBeckwith 18

Haiku #1 Madison Whatley 19




My Minds an Ocean -Nicolette Schneider 20

Photography by Giovanni Grinovero 20

Sonnet of the Sea -Sarah Cohen 21

Carnival -Rebecca Saltzman 22

Photography by Rebecca Saltzman 22

Day 3 Rebecca Saltzman 23

Aligators Aren't That Bad -Madison Whatley 24

Photography by John Corredor 25

You Are Scared -Bria Woods 26

Photography by Nicholas Whatley 28

Turtle -Giovanni Grinovero 29

Lost -Anonymous 30

Where to Go -Betsabeth Aracia 30


Hey You -Jordana NaZim 31

Art (Robot) by Anonymous 31

Art (Island) by Enmanuel Carcamos 31

So Long as the World is Still Here -John Corredor 32


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Coffee House -John Corredor 33


Curly Hair -Nicolette Schneider 34

Calendar Only Make Me More Disoriented -Jordana NaZim 35


Stressful Incantations -Alexis Vazquez 36

Skulls of the Past -Anna Vernicou 37

Art by Yessenia Balestena 37

Your Doll -Madison Whatley 38

Photography by Rebecca Saltzman 38

The Box -Esther Sason 39

Art by Anonymous 39

Tyrant's Urge -John Corredor 40

Art by Enmanuel Carcamos 40

War -Nicollet Schneider 41

Melting Skies -John Corredor 42

Photography by John Crredor 42

Ask the World for Answers -Sarah Cohen 43

Art by Sarah Cohen 43

World of Black and White -Giovanni Grinovero 44

Art by Carlos Santana 44

My Own -Nicolette Schneider 45

Art by Christy Martinez 45


I Prefer Heals -Ciara Biederman 46

No Call -Rebecca Saltzman 49


XIV

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The Poet Always Stays StrongWord Vomit -John Corredor 50


The Frustration of Math -Laurynmer Salgado 51


Chaos -Nicolette Schneider 52

Art by Bruce Paredes 52

A Sunday Afternoon in New York -John Corredor 53


Erased by Sickness -Laurynmer Salgado 54

Church Parking Lot -John Corredor 55


My Thoughts Have All Forgotten Me -Sarah Cohen 56

Growing Up -John Corredor 57


Walls -Sarah Cohen 58

Art by Alexandria George 58

Day Seven -Rebecca Saltzman 59

Art by Christy Martinez 59

Charlie Hopkins -Alexis Vazquez 60

The Predator -Ciera Farrell 62


Blood Red -John Corredor 63

Oh Moon -Leah Perez 64

Art by Leah Perez 64

La Lune/The Moon -Juan Gomez 65

Day Eight -Rebecca Saltzman 66


Art by Disney Witt 67XV

1

We don’t always Get recognition as a poet,

But we all Stay strong.

Even through It all, we still write from our hearts.

We pour our hearts Onto pieces of paper that almost always Go unpublished, but we push through

It because we’re poets. We’ve learned to be strong

Through it all.

We have all Built our hearts

To be strong. We can always

Listen to the negative feedback, as a poet And stick it through.

We make it through The low pay, hoping we can all

Make it big as a poet.

We put our hearts First always

To make our poems strong.

We try to find strong Words through

A dictionary and it always Takes all

Day, but in our hearts We will always love being a poet.

We really do love being poets That’s why we’ve stayed strong,

Why we pour our hearts Out through

Page after page for all To see throughout our life; always.

The heart of a poet Will always stay strong,

Even through it all.

- Rebecca Saltzman

The Poet Always Stays Strong

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Day One

I saw you around

But I never said hi

I didn’t wanna look like a clown

Cause you were such a cute guy.

I took a deep breath

Before I sat down beside you

I felt my legs shake beneath

My jeans when your head began to skew.

You looked over at me

And I stared down at the road.

You said you liked my tee

And my cheeks turned red like I was gonna explode.

Then you told me your name,

I told you mine as a reply

You said you were glad I came

And I said so was I.

- Rebecca Saltzman

3

Hidden Key

There are many things

That needs to be said

But somehow this cage

Keeps me trapped inside my head

Expressing these feelings as actions

My eyes say it all

But I wish my words

Could have told them instead

My words are like birds in a cage

Wanting to be set free

While this cage screams at me

That I’m a coward for not getting the key

I sat down inside the cage

And I cried out instead

Now I have no confidence

My soul left me, as if I were dead.

-Carlo Miguel Laterio

4

The Persistence of Memory

Time is an illusion

That Melts at the hands of the sun

And is revived by the nights soft glow.

Beauty and simplicity are the keys to life.

Find oak trees, ocean waves, and bird chirping

Get lost in their texture and sound.

Time is an illusion.

Watch it disperse when you get lost in the sunset

Listen to its distant cries as you blast your favorite song.

Time is an illusion

Find what you love and get lost in it.

- Ciera Farrell

Time

Man is the only

Species

That makes the

Mistake

Of overthinking each

Day

To the extent where he

Exists

But never

Lives

- Nicolette Schneider

5

Only Time Can TellOnly time can tell

where you’ll go from here Just hope all goes well

No need to yell Nothing to fear

Only time can tell

On your problems, don’t dwell Or your eyes will tear

Just hope all goes well

Your ruler’s not a bell Who cares if you don’t hear

Only time can tell

Your deeds don’t all need to be noble As long as their sincere Just hope all goes well

If all goes to hell

Your selfishness will have disappeared Only time can tell

Just hope all goes well

-John Corredor

TenseWe’re stuck in the past

Prepare for the future, and Neglect the present

-John Corredor

6

All the Things I Should’ve Said

My words are in a bottle A message never sent,A ship that will never see the sea,A courage that’s been bent.My voice is in a sheet of paper,Folded many timesLeft in a drawer of forgotten things,

Thoughts plucked before their prime. And I told my smiles to a carrier pigeon,But told him not to fly,My thoughts were those of grounded things,Not brave enough for the sky. But maybe if I had let them sail,Maybe he would have read,All the things I never told to him,All the things I should’ve said.

-Sarah Cohen

7

Bottles

Tell me something

Why do you choose to be angry,

But not feel the need to voice anything?

How is it fair to me?

I’m just a friend

Always here for you,

But you don’t tell me what’s wrong.

You just bottle it up

And wait for someone like me

An accidental spark-

To set you off.

It’s annoying really

How highly I’ve regarded you,

But now I’m not so sure,

For what I’ve now seen

Is what happens

When you have a friend

Who is all bottled up and closed-

They expire.

-Alexis Vazquez

7

8

Aurora

It’s the Aurora Borealis that shines through

The dark winter sky

-John Corredor

Amidst the Breeze

A voice is heard amidst the breeze That tickles the grass and all Of the trees With its tender touch and Its nice bells of sound It lingers so sweetly Like a lovely newly found song

- Bria Woods

AntarcticaI am pristine, I am untouched

You can’t get through You can either get stabbed by

the icicles that Protrude from my skin,

Or you will go numb from the frost

Coating my body. Those who have tried

Realize that I’m too cold The blizzard is too much to bear.

Yet, you’re the one that warms me,

Through and through. You make me melt,

Like once limpid liquid in your hands.

Even something so pure Can be tainted

By those not so kind-Brittney Roth8

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Day Two

You were sitting by your friend’s car

When I saw you look up.

I was buying a candy bar

When you walked over and said ‘sup?’

I offered you a bite

And you took it with a smile

Your teeth so bright,

I stared for a while.

We shared the snack

Even though it was mine

You said you’d pay me back,

But I told you it was fine.

My phone rung

And I had to leave,

So I said bye and up you sprung

To give me a hug I couldn’t believe.

- Rebecca Saltzman

10

A heart he must winSo an ocean he traveledWaterfalls of black sinThe pressure his battle

Spoken words without meaningThis man; undefinedHer eyes always readingOh the chills up his spine

Beauty like religionBut no practice needed.The minute she spokeOne’s confidence depleted.

A fantasy, a dreamHe knew he must live.But what was there to offer?What love to give?

Unready his mindFor it is not spring.A blossom he’ll be Once the blue birds sing.

-Nicolette Schneider

Flower in the Winter

10

11

Breathtakingly beautiful and bright,

She radiates love from her gleaming yellow petals.

Never letting the storm bring her down

But allowing her to grow

I admire the purity in her eyes and

Passion in her soul.

She’s always looking towards the sun.

I am the sun

And she is my sunflower.

- Ciera Ferrell

Sunflower

11

12

The Real Problem Is Me

The problem with being honest

Is you think everyone else is too

But sometimes when you see an orange shirt

Someone else will try to convince you “it’s more peach”

And they won’t say it’s just their perspective

You’re wrong, naturally.

The problem with loving unconditionally

Is that you think everyone else does too

So when they get bored

Or find a newer model,

You are still unconditionally in love

And you’ll learn to accept that.

But there is a very specific

Kind of pleasure that comes from

Loving someone who does not love you in return

The problem with loving fairytales

Is you think everyone is one.

But no one names his daughter Snow White.

And no one names her son Charming.

And the Evil Queen,

She isn’t a third character,

But the reality of who people really are.

-Jordana NaZim

13

My Heart at Night

My heart beats tender like a song

It can be heard throughout a quiet night

The night, a tender blanket in the sky

My heart aches for its comfort and its light

I cry, for glowing stars I mustn’t see

My heart is sealed from such beauty

I try to see a moon that floats so high, but

My heart is chained from all that’s lovely

And all the midnight’s masterpieces

are all but ordinary

-Bria Woods13

14

Hot Life

Every person is kindling But it’s that certain Spark Between two people That smolders into new life, Your birth’s an ignition To a small flame, Warm And not so bright Then Puberty hits and you Flare into an inferno Refusing to be controlled You’re a Conflagration, Incineration is a must In adulthood you dwindle To a blaze Still a vibrant fire But burning less and less Your heat lessens to an elderly ember Only mildly scalding Until your last breath, A simple puff of smoke Once it’s over your body’s due for cremation you’re reduced To a pile of ash

-John Corredor

16

Can We?

Can we go for a walk?I’m starting to feel very hot.I just really need to talk.

Remember that day we met on the dock,It almost felt like we actually had a shot.Can we go for a walk?

I thought we still had time on our clock,But I guess this was the plot.I just really need to talk.

What was really going on Jacques?You told me you were ready to tie the knot.Can we go for a walk?

You weren’t the type to stalk.I wasn’t expecting some sort of big rock.I just really need to talk.

wanted the relationship to be on lock,Instead you let it rot.Can we go for a walk?I just really need to talk?

-Samantha Becker

16

18

A.P.D. (Automatic. Pill. Dispenser.)

I still remember his faceVery bored and tiredLike what he said to me Is something he has repeated thousands of times.

Thinking about it nowI think he didn’t care about meHe just looked at meAnd wrote me a slip of paper.

Maybe he felt like a man at a ticket boothGiving me a golden passTo go forward and receive my medicine.

Maybe he felt like a gumball machineVibrant and vivid-dispersing colorful goodiesSo long as I paid him.

Maybe he felt like an ATMPushing out prescription papersFor my personal benefit.

I don’t know what he felt likeBut it doesn’t matterBecause I don’t remember his nameAnd he doesn’t remember me.

- Alex Vazquez

19

Hey, John, I have aSubmission for you. Check it

Out. It’s a haiku.-Madison Whatley

John is super cool.He has candy for Maddie.

Maddie loves candy.-Madison Whatley

Don’t be a kiss-up.It will not get you candy.I want real poems. -John Corredor

20

My Mind’s an Ocean

My mind’s an ocean With thoughts that play the sea A perplexed purifying potion

A velocious motion These currents tend to be

My mind’s an ocean

This deep devotion The shells; my memory

A perplexed purifying potion

A salty emotion Creating energy

My mind’s an ocean

This endless commotion In a space that’s free

A perplexed purifying potion

One beautiful explosion Within the depths of me

My mind’s an ocean A perplexed purifying potion


20

21

Sonnet of the Sea

We put the sea into one single jar,And told each other all was well and good,

While lungs and gills filled with the thick black tar,Assured that we had done all that we could.

We looked into our jar with waning pride,As this was just a piece of what was once,And as a lonely fish ‘slumbered’ inside,

We didn’t know that it’d been dead for months.

A world once bright and strange dimmed under usAs we filled jars and looked on its demise

And could not comprehend its vast barenessAs the empty stretched further than the eyes.

Perhaps the worst thing for ourselves has beenThe fact that we’ve become our greatest sin.

-Sarah Cohen

21

22

CarnivalUp, down, around we goGetting a birds eye view of the people belowAs they snack on colored snow.

Spinning, twisting, dizzy we areIn bumper cars

That make their way far.

Kid’s laughter all aroundSmiles, no frowns

For miles to be found.

Pink fluffy clouds on wooden sticksFor a price of sixAnd a bag of tricks.

Bright colors and rushing sounds,Balloons held by clownsWe are at the fair grounds.

- Rebecca Saltzman

23

Day Three

I ran into you at the gas station

On the corner of our block.

You were buying beer for a celebration

And I was taking a walk.

You called me over,

It was the first time I heard you say my name

“Stop by tonight, and moreover,

You look beautiful today” he said with no shame.

A smile lit my face

As I said that I’ll be there

You told me to meet at your place.

Walking home I felt like I was walking on air.

I got there around ten

In a cute little Navy dress.

A few hours later we were in your den,

Clothes flying as we began to undress.

You walked me home that night

Not wanting me to get hurt.

I felt all right

And continued to flirt.

We got to my front door

It was quiet, not even a hiss.

You’ll call me tomorrow you swore,

And off you went without a kiss.

- Rebecca Saltzman

24

Alligators are the

Best animals in the wild-

Creepy and scary, yes, and

Don’t get close.

Even so, they’re my

Friends, because I’m

Guessing they

Have no others.

I’m sympathetic-

Just concerned.

Killers track them.

Lenience is not given.

“Monsters” they’re called.

“Not so,” I say.

Only do as they know-

Please don’t hurt them.

Quite unfair-

Reality is they’re

So misunderstood-

Too confused-

Unlucky creatures-

Violent, yes, but

Without fault.

Xanthic scales bought and sold.

You can’t get past their

Zigzag teeth.

Aligators Aren't That Bad

-Madison Whatley24

25-Madison Whatley

25

26

You Are Scared! The goldish hue of the creamy sky, the crunch of the dead, brown leaves, and the high-pitched chime of a childish squabble made up the little park like a picturesque scene that had lifted itself right out of a painting in order to breathe.

“I scared you!” Disheveled, cinnamon brown hair, a chipped tooth, and shoes that never seemed to be tied formed the owner of such a piercing voice demanding itself to be heard, demanding that the pitying sunlight could beam down on Chip and trap itself with-in the brown pupils of his eyes with a heedful blink.

“No, you didn’t,” Kyle told him.

“He just wants to be our friend!” Pip raced away.

“Of course I do,” Chip agreed, chasing

after the other children with a crooked smile. “If I scare you, you have to be my friend.”

Joy couldn’t com-prehend that statement. Taking no notice of the white-pawed puppy that had decided to follow her with moonlike eyes, she filled her belly up with tiny cupcakes as the stirring sun tugged at the buttery white clouds that hugged the glowing sky in lumpy fluff.

“Run, Kyle!” Hai-ley squeaked.

“You must get away,” Pip laughed.

“Hey, wait up!” Chip huffed as his breath faded away into the breezy autumn air.

Curiously, Joy looked up in time to take heed of the glistening tendril of a spider float-ing slowly down from a tree to land grace-fully upon her shoulder. Joy toppled over with a startled squeak. The tiny frosted cupcakes flew

everywhere as the puppy scampered away out of fear.

“Since you guys insist on running away from me, it must mean that you are all scared!” Chip declared with a touching grin.

“What is he talking about?” Pip stopped run-ning to gaze at Chip with dull, grayish eyes.

“I haven’t the slightest clue.” Kyle yawned out of pure bore-dom as he leaped up onto a nearby swing.

In his mighty struggle to catch up to the others, Chip landed squarely on his face as a quiet breeze tickled the dead leaves that flut-tered everywhere into the chilly air. “You’re scared!” Chip turned his face to confront Joy. Joy was flapping around as if she meant to fly.

“No, she is not!” Hailey shouted.

“She’s not scared by you,” Pip laughed.

27

At that, Chip stood up to saunter over towards the spider that Joy had shrugged away. He picked it up and placed it amongst the hanging leaves of a nearby tree. He then turned to glare at each child.

“The next scared person that I save has to be my friend!” Chip declared.

It was clear that Chip’s new plan had failed. Joy sat down on the front stairs of her home cheerfully eating one of her two ice cream cones as she watched Chip buy a chocolate flavored one of his own with a crooked grin.

Loud barks shat-tered the quiet air as the white-pawed puppy started to follow Chip with a wagging tail. Ter-rified, Chip leaped back. The look of horror filled his eyes as his newly purchased ice cream toppled down onto the ground with a messy splat.

“Way to go, Bis-cuit!” Pip squealed pleasingly.

“Look who is scared now!” Hailey purred.

“I suppose he has to be Biscuit’s friend as of now!” Kyle feigned surprise.

Suddenly feeling all of the cupcakes and ice cream that she had eaten earlier finally settle her stomach, Joy rose up, the tight grip on the uneaten ice cream that she held, made the other children, including Biscuit, scurry away.

Chip prepared to run, but Joy ambled over the splattered ice cream with a, “Now that I saved you, you have to be my friend too”, as she happily handed him her ice cream despite of Chip’s senseless protests.

“Thanks, Joy!” Chip devoured the choc-olate flavored ice cream as he gave Joy his full

smile, chipped tooth and

all, while they shook

hands.

“You should tie

your shoes.” Joy advised

Chip as they prepared

themselves to chase after

the taunting kids once

more.

“Okay,” Chip

obeyed eagerly. His eyes

shining with newfound

confidence meanwhile

the satisfied sunlight

beamed down to trap

itself within the brown

of his pupils. “Come on,

Joy we have some new

friends to make!” He

took off happily, but not

as happily as the tagging

along white pawed pu

py that had just made

new friends.

-Bria Woods

29

Turtle

Like a turtle you hide in your shell

Even though we all know too well

The stories we hear

Like a kick in the rear

With everyone speaking you only listen to the ones underground

But look closely, look what you found

The knowledge we find

Brings us to the right state of mind

And with the burst of the sun you… are… happy.

- Giovanny Grinovero

30

Lost

I’m lost; I don’t know where to goI’m lonely I have no one to talk toI want to get out of my comfort zoneTo make friends and to experience life,But I also want to stay locked in my roomSo I can be alone and read

-Anonymous

Where to Go

Left, right, up, down

I don’t know where to go

I’m stuck in every direction

With no where to go I

Have no sense of direction

I’ll be all alone

Lost in my own mind

I’ll turn crazy thinking

About my future, my career

One day I’ll figure my

Way out and I’ll know

Where to go

-Betsabeth Aracia

31

Practically hugging the ground But you wouldn’t have that- You were fine. You were always fine And you- You were perfection But I, With my stomach red, I had to be better. I made a synchronized swim group I was not the little mermaid But goddamn Poseidon Emerging from the water And your ability to be okay, Made me transform Crystalize, into coral reefs Growing, stretching Grasping at the surface And you, you were no longer My sunlight Most importantly Thank you For lying to me. Being a good goddamn liar, Because since I believed you, I stopped believing in me. Then after you left, Like a depressed runaway teenager In the middle of the night With just enough money for a One way bus ticket- I – I- I learned how to use super glue And power tools And though I am filled with Bolt’s, screws, and stitches I love the raised scars on my heart. In fact I love them more Than I ever loved you, So thank you For returning me Back to myself In better condition than when I gave myself to you.

- Sincerely yours, No- sincerely mine, Jo

Hey you, I know this is a little strange Since my last words to you Where a long the lines of “F” yourself But this time is different. I want to say thank you, Thank you for being my muse. While we were together I was your canvas, Your marble you chiseled Piece after piece off of Until you got the shape you wanted. You gave me some good plot lines But when we were together, I could never- I could never Write an impactful ending. In fact, I was so busy Being your inspiration that I forgot how to find words that rhymed So thank you For giving my novel- The greatest twist of all time. Oh, and also, If – NO WHEN – I get published, Sorry that your character dies. (Also sorry that I’m your murderer) But HEY! Forgive and forget, Am I right? Anyways, thank you For reminding me How to be my own knight in shining armor Not the kind that saves the day, No, no, no This isn’t a fairytale And I’ve accepted that. We were never meant to be that. I mean I have an impenetrable External shell That allows me to be fearless Going to battle And then When the time is right, I can peel it off, strip it all down, And be human again. Thank you For making me smack the ground Face first. While everyone was watching I’ll admit that when you Pushed me off that diving board And I belly flopped with the whole pool watching, It stung like hell And I began sinking to the bottom

32

So long as the world is still hereYesterday, one of our regulars Ordered her usual(A short cappuccino, In a tall cup,Light milk;One Splenda®)My fellow baristaHanded her the espresso beverage“I’ll see you tomorrow.”To which she responded nonchalantly“Yes I’ll see you tomorrow, Same time, same place, So long as the world is still here.”That got me thinkingIf the world was to perishWith our monuments, Our literature, our coffeeAnd our livesThere would be no oneTo grasp the factThat everything we once knew And cherished had fallen to oblivionAnd above all that this womanWas so determined (Or so prone to repetition)That nothing, nothing would stop herFrom coming back the next dayOther than the abrupt Conclusion of our consciousness

-John Corredor

33

Coffee House

Take me to that nice coffee house today

And fill my nose with the unsoiled scent

That is unique to softly lit cafés

With environments keeping guests content.

It serves espresso with crème, not too hot,

And plays smooth jazz and blues as background noise.

It is a soothing place provoking thought.

The dim lights do allow the glows of plea-

sure to illuminate from tile mugs

And oh the people, they are very nice.

Those feeling down might just be offered hugs

Or maybe get some coffee filled with ice.

I do adore the homes filled with caffeine

Persistently surrounding me with beans

-John Corredor

34

Calendars Only Make Me More Disoriented

To you,

I haven’t been able to write anything I’m actually proud of lately.

By lately, I mean months.

By months, I mean ten.

Because ten months ago was the day you took my good away.

And by day I mean the third.

I mean I laughed when my dad said both good things

And bad things come in threes.

And the third time was not the charm

But god, your charm was disorienting

And I don’t believe in third chances.

You ask for too much

And by too much,

I mean nothing.

You ask me for nothing.

You ask me to disappear and become nothing.

Gone with the wind.

Just a mist of ocean air caressing your face

Before it evaporates into the stratosphere.

I haven’t been able to write anything I’m proud of in 329 days.

I haven’t been able to write about anything but you in three years.

I haven’t been able to break that cycle,

But you’ve been able to break me.

- Jordana Nazim34

36

Stressful Incantations

As the bones fall and tumble to the floorI look and quail at the horrible sight ofYet another skeleton that belongs to meThe poisonous spell that has quickly leaped fromThe closet is now wrapping itself around meWeighing heavily on my chest andCementing my stance so that I amA statue displaying the perfect symbolThe symbol of fear, anxiety, and most of all… stress.Centuries seem to pass before I finallyTry to inch myself forward to confront my cracking skeletonMy muscles and tendons cry out in aching painAs they have to push my unwilling bodyCloser and closer to the calcium coveredEmbodiment of all my negative thoughts and problemsIn one final surge of strength I flailOutwards and grab the skeleton by its dusty ribsScreaming and crying I slam it into the wallTearing it apart, bone by bone andCramming it back into the closetShutting and locking the doorPraying that its stressful incantations won’t cast itself out again to me.

-Alexis Vazquez

36

37

Skulls of the Past

For my broken bones

For my warrior cry

For the feathers

That define me

I have my pride

I fought

I lived

I won

With the pride

Of a warrior

And the ancestry

Of a Seminole

I play

My team sport

Football

I am the

Player

And the winner

Of all time

Settled in the dust

-Anna Vernicou

37

38

Your torture lives within me.

In many ways, I’m still your cap-tive.

It started with manipulation;

Friends, family:

Gone- I didn’t need them

According to you, my angel,

So I shoved them away.

I lived at your will day by day

As you groomed me, and when

You started dressing me to your

Liking, I thought,

“What’s the harm?”

Eventually, you decided to

Prop me up in a display case

And lock me inside, and

Although I was uncomfortable

And lonely, you told me

That you just wanted to

Keep my beauty safe

From the dangerous world, so

I felt special and loved.

Playtime came, and you

Used me to entertain

Yourself. You didn’t

Always play nicely,

And you gripped me

Too harshly, but I was

Happy to leave the confinement

Of my case, and I

Craved your affection, so I

Didn’t complain, but when

I bruised, it made you

Angry. Of course, dolls

Do not develop marks

On their skin.

I appeared quite fair,

But internally, I began

To decay. As my organs

Rotted within my body, I

Decided that I did not

Want to be your doll anymore.

You told me that you’d

Release me, but

Not before you took

What was yours.

You held me still

And tore my delicate

Skin off of me – bit by bit.

You sent me on my way.

I could barely keep

My mangled figure upright.

It’s taken me a year

To rehabilitate,

But I still suffer.

I don’t know where you are,

But your voice resounds

Constantly in my mind,

And hatred swells throughout me.

Your memory makes me vomit.

Everyday, I am reminded

Of my time as your prisoner,

But I refuse to live

As a victim forever.

I pinch my skin and remind

Myself that I am not

Porcelain. With every breath,

I remember that I am not

A doll – I never was.

- Madison Whatley

Your Doll

38

39

The Box

The pain of the souls around,

Constantly dragging into a dark abyss,

No matter how hard or fast it falls,

There is no bottom.

It falls and falls until it plummets,

Feelings of promise and hope are gone,

All that’s left is sorrow and despair,

Dropping deep into the center of time.

Wanting and wishing to feel something other than pain,

Anticipating more pain because that’s all you know,

It keeps falling until the weight has been lifted,

And the pain and sorrow and misery is back in the box.

-Esther Sasson39

40

Tyrant’s Urge

I want more But I’ll never be satisfied I think I’ll start a war I’ve gone through every store But nothing soothes my appetite I want more I’ll sail to a foreign shore And consume all they have to sacrifice I think I’ll start a war Generosity is a bore I’ll take all I find I want more I love the gore And faces of the terrified I think I’ll start a war Louder than all my greed will roar Yet no one is horrified I want more I think I’ll start a war

-John Corredor

41

War

A continuous violenceWhere men speak in shades of black.

This soft yet bitter silence,A train without its track.

One fights to only loseA love within their golden heart.

Saving whom, when death you choose?A race that only starts.

This fire may consumeA soul that dances with the dust.

To sit like a weed while all is doomed,This nation we must trust.

A continuous violenceA key to unlock the door

To soft and peaceful silenceAnd ending all of war.


42

The world will not endWhen beings with bat scalesAnd pointed tailsFill the melting skies Caused by the conflagrant chasms From which the once dwelled

Nor will the world end When these vile creaturesPaint the pearly white gatesRed with the bloodOf its immaculate inhabitants

No, the world will endWhen our peaceful protectorsPierce their wingsBecause they’ve given up on the worldAnd given up on their selves

-John Corredor

42

43

Ask the World For Answers

She had the galaxy in her mind,

But could not handle its weight.

She traded empty space

For an even emptier one,

And could not stand its vastness.

For when she opened and emptied her mind

And outstretched her arms

To beg the universe for its answers,

She did not expect it to respond,

Did not expect the terrible

Weight of its emptiness.

-Sarah Cohen

43

44

World of Black and White

For being a spectrum it’s hardTo live in a world of black and white.The path in front is colorless, but theWorld I already crossed has been touched by a rainbow. Everyday more join the army of color and wonder. We spread like a virus of positivity until the world isLike that of our childhood coloring booksAnd heal the world of black and white.

-Giovanni Grinovero

45

My Own

Oh how I long to be unique; my own

In a world that’s black and white.

So I stand, and yes if that’s alone,

I’ll wait and wait all night.

These shoes I wear will lead me

To a place with color and life.

As I take my step, I don’t look back,

For my direction is my light.

Above all the skies that show my

Dreams and the vibrancy I wish to be.

So if I reach way up high,

I’ll touch the stars and kiss the sky.

So why do I fear?

Why am I afraid?

When I’m vulnerable,

Being true is the only way.

Now I’m on my own

In a world so vast and plain.

My dreams will be followed

And my mind will be sane.


46

(All characters speak in a Northeastern United States accent)

(Opens with a young women sitting on a stool, staring at the audience. She sits there for about 30 seconds pulling her facial skin taut in several directions.)

(In enters a woman several years older than the young woman.)

Gloria: You are so beautiful… Just like your mother.

Meriam: Would it kill you to give me a compliment that didn’t involve also complimenting your-self?

Gloria: Oh! You would just love it if I died, wouldn’t you? I swear! No one appreciates me in this house!

Meriam: I’m sorry ma. You know that’s not what I meant.

Gloria: Yea, yea.

(Jen enters.)

Jen: (kissing Gloria on the cheek) Hi ma.

Gloria: (To Jen) Oh you just look so beautiful! (To Meriam) Why can’t you own your beauty like ya sista’ does? You wear way too much makeup on your eyes, and not enough on the lips. Lip-stick was God’s gift to woman, ya know. Mary was his vessel. Well, Mary Kay anyway.

Meriam: Jen HAS to wear a lot of lipstick. It serves as a protective layer for her lips when she kisses you’re a-

Jen: (Cutting Meriam off) Oh come off it Mer! You’re just jealous because I’m ma’s favorite!

Gloria: That’s ridiculous! I don’t have a favorite!

Meriam: (Rolling eyes) No matter what she’s done. It’s like she’s fricken’ Mother Theresa, or somethin’!

Jen: Green just isn’t your color, Mer.

Gloria: (To Meriam, pinching Jen’s cheeks and speaking as if she were cooing a child) How can I help it? I couldn’t be more proud of the woman she’s become. She’s everything I’ve ever wanted her to be. (Pause) And, Jen’s thriving marriage gives me leverage whenever Mrs. Got-tlieb boasts about her daughter at Mahjong. (Mimics Mrs. Gottlieb) “My daughter… you know, the one who married the dentist…” Well, my daughter married a lawyer! Ha!

Meriam: Yea! Your daughter, the peak of perfection, the same one who also brings her flask to the Synagogue.

Jen: That was one time! (To Gloria) And it wasn’t a flask, ma. It was a candy dispenser that I got for my bridal shower.

I Prefer Heels

47

Meriam: You mean Bachelorette party, and it was a flask! You filled it up with vodka didn’t you?

Gloria: You did?! During religious services, Jennifa?! That’s not Kosher!

Jen: I was thirsty and It was flavored water.

Meriam: (Eyes opening widely and voice slightly raises) Yea! Flavored with fermented potatoes!

Gloria: Okay, I’ve heard enough outta you missy. (To Jen) I Believe you. (Both Jen and Gloria shoot dirty looks at Meriam) (To Jen) So, you got a hot date tonight with the hubby?

Jen: Yea. Jeff finally got the night off. It figures on the week that I’m taking a break from spin-ning class. If my fanny grows any larger, I’ll need to wear a sign around my neck to warn people when they’re in the splash zone! Well, I gotta go pick up the babysitta’.

Gloria: I wish you would let me see my grandchildren once in a while. I’m not gonna live forever. Especially with my heart condition.

Meriam: Ma, you don’t have a heart condition!

Gloria: With you constantly breaking it, it’s amazin’ I’m not already buried next to your father. (Pause) God rest his soul.

Jen: (with her back to her mother, she makes a motion of popping something into her mouth, pulls a water bottle from her purse, and takes a swig of water.)(Turns back around) I gotta go. I was supposed to be there at 5:15, and it’s already 5:30. Jeff’s gonna bust a vein. Bye ma. See ya Mer. Love ya both.

(Jen exits)

Gloria: So, you feel like goin’ out tonight?

Meriam: Nah. I was plannin’ on stayin’ in. I have dates with Ben, Jerry, and all of the Real Housewives of New Jersey. See ma, I have three dates in one night!

Gloria: Very funny. (Pauses and says very slowly and matter-of-factly) You know, Mrs. Gold-stein’s son just got dumped by his fiancé’, and he’s very lonely. (States this very factually) He’s a doctor you know.

Meriam: (Surprised tone) Do you mean Joey Goldstein? The same Joey Goldstein who’s owned Goldstein’s Deli down the street for 15 years? Ha! Doctor? And I’m an astronaut.

Gloria: Well you do have your head in the clouds most of the time, and anyway, he’s practically a doctor. He performed the Heimlich, and saved that man’s life last week.

Meriam: Yes, but once the guy got his entre, he wished he’d have died.

Gloria: Well, somebody shoulda’ warned him not to order the Kischka, anyway, you can do the cooking. You’re just getting so… OLD and all of your good eggs gone.

Meriam: I’m 24 ma!

Gloria: And you’re at the borderline of losing even your decent eggs. I will settle for a Benjamin, or even a Miles, but please don’t wait until the last egg left is a Larry! Have you ever met a Larry that didn’t look like he freshly murdered someone? I don’t want my grandson to be a-a- an ick-

48

Larry!

Meriam: What if I have a girl?

Gloria: Then I hope she brings you just as much joy as you’ve brought to me! (Pause) I just wish you were more like your sister.

Meriam: (Rolls eyes and in a mimicking tone) I wish you were more like your sister.

Gloria: She never gave me this much trouble, and she’s been happily married for 10 years.

Meriam: All Jen does is stay home, drink wine, and pop Xanax, all while Jeff “works late”.

Gloria: I’m not listening to this negativity! (Puts a finger in each ear) La la la la!

Meriam: And what were you plannin’ on doin’ tonight? You gonna take another bath with your dog?

Gloria: It’s not a bath, it’s a shower.

Meriam: Whateva’, you’re still naked.

Gloria: Every dog sees their owner naked, and anyway, it doesn’t bother him. Not like it did your father.

Meriam: (A pure countenance of disgust) And yet another scar, even the Kardashians’ plastic surgeon couldn’t remove.

Gloria: Can’t you see that I just want the best for us… I mean you.

Meriam: That’s exactly why I don’t see it, ma! You want me to be just like Jen, or you want me to be just like the Konviser girl down the street. But really, you want me to be just like you!

Gloria: That’s not true!

Meriam: Yes it is, ma! You wallow around this house, miserable. You nag and complain till I wish that my ears would physically bleed, just to drown out the sound of you droning on. I spent an hour crying in the shower last week, because I felt just a little part of me become like you. If you’re so unhappy with your life, why do you want for me the same unhappiness?

Gloria: I don’t want you to be unhappy. I just want to shelter you from what I don’t know. I’m scared for you to make the mistakes that I was too afraid to make. I wouldn’t know how to help you fix them. And my life’s not so bad.

Meriam: I don’t want to settle for ‘not so bad’. I love you with all my heart ma, but I want some-thin’ wonderful. I want somethin’ that is worth not hitting the snooze button for! I don’t want to make the same mistakes as you, ma! I want to make my own mistakes. And I want to make my own happy endin’. I want to live my own life. You want me to fill your orthopedic sandals, but what you don’t understand, is that…I prefer heels.

End

-Ciara Biederman

49

Day Four ...no call.

Day five ...no call.

Day Six ...no call.

50

Word VomitI once knew a man That would drown his Sorrows by drinking Up the meanings of each word In the dictionary And just like an alcoholic On a bender, he too, Was tough to be aroundAnd once his eyes were bloodshot From binge reading You could tell that This man had become inebriated Through his incessant consumption Of countless definitionsEvery conversation he’d have Included him spewing word vomit All over his interlocutor Leaving himself prone to a Lonesome hangover where His mind was left dehydrated From the lack of sustenance In his thoughts

-John Corredor

51

The Frustration of Math

f(x) = (x+2)^2-1

What is this equation doing to my mind?

I’m getting frustrated!

No!

Aggravated!

What do you pretend for me to simplify?

I prefer to just take liberal arts

But if I don’t solve this

I won’t solve a life.

- Laurymer Salgado

52

Chaos

These colors scream chaos These faces; unknown

Reflections; a plenty Or the shape shifters shown.

Cooperation is lost In the mixes of blue

The daring dancing pens Of white lay true.

How might this change Through triangular cues?


53

A Sunday Afternoon in New York

I live in Florida and all I see When I walk by a group of people Is a collage of blank faces But when I visit New York I am amazed by what I see. With eight and a half million residents It is the largest city in the U.S. Yet everyone I see is an individual No one blends in with the crowd Although I am disgusted With its capitalist infrastructure I can’t help but being in awe With what it has produced A grandiose city made up of art From the buildings to the people, it’s all art If the Earth was painted by Georges Seurat New York City would be A Sunday Afternoon On the Island of La Grande Jatte Every individual is its own dot Coming together to form a masterpiece -John Corredor

53

54

Erased by Sickness

I am a blank pageNothing comes out of these lips

I am a blank pageMy mind is so colorful,It is no longer powerful

I am a blank pageWithout a story and events

I am a blank pageVague memories are the only thing left

I am a blank pageWith my life completely erased

- Laurymer Salgado

55

The first time I’d been to church Since Catholic School Was not to talk to god No, it was so I could get away Get away from everything real All of my obligations And responsibilities Seemed so distant as I Sat down on the bench Of my truck’s cabin And stared at the empty lot Devoid of any deities That occupy so many thoughts

The last time I went to church After Catholic School Was not to talk about anything real No, it was so I could get farther Farther from god

-John Corredor

Church parking lot

55

56

My Thoughts Have All Forgotten Me

All I had tried was to give life to my poetry, To give it spark through ink-stained fingers and tongue, But now I think my thoughts have all forgotten me.

I held them as though I would a bird fallen from their tree, With the most careful care so his last song won’t stay unsung, All I had tried was to give life to my poetry.

Without my words, I felt as though I were an amputee, And maybe they’d come back to me when I then lost a lung, But now I think my thoughts have all forgotten me.

I did not know they’d leave me if I set them free, But my new thoughts ran with the recklessness of the young,

All I had tried was to give life to my poetry.

I know they’ll take a boat, for I have always written of the sea,

And maybe, just maybe, they’ll think of all the songs I sung, But now I think my thoughts have all forgotten me.

But maybe with my runaway words I should agree, Maybe it was I who onto them too tightly clung,

All I had tried was to give life to my poetry, But now I think my thoughts have all forgotten me.

-Sarah Cohen

57

Growing UpAt this point I’m just rambling onWondering where my creativity’s goneSitting in a chair, biting my penPulling at my hairI just wish I had something to write aboutEven if it’s doubt worthyYou heard meI miss being a little kidWhere everything I didWas filled with imaginationI’d pretend I was in some far off nationOr chief of a fire stationRescuing people from the scorching flameDreaming of a life of fame and wealthNot the least bit worried about my healthEven if I had snot pouring out of my noseI’d pull on some clothes and run around for hoursBut when we grow up we become cowardsAfraid to do what makes us smileWe just copy what’s in styleBut isn’t it funny that when we’re smallAnd don’t care at allWe’re happier that any grown upWorking on their 3rd cup of coffeeTo escape their zombie state Caused by late nights filled with stress;Never getting an ounce of rest

-John Corredor

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Walls

Did you not know that all the walls have ears

And eyes of paper staring down at you,

Did you not know they’ve watched you through the years,

Through all the days and nights your children grew.

But do not fear for they do not have teeth,

Nor any mouth to take a taste of men,

But be advised to never look beneath,

Where all the words you’ve said lay writ in pen.

And maybe you’ve forgotten all those nights,

Nights lost inside of bottles and closed doors,

But know your walls did not forget those fights,

And all those words in ink had once been yours.

So if you wonder why you’re all alone,

Just ask the walls; for all this time, they’ve known.

-Sarah Cohen

58

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Day seven…

My phone rung,

It was you.

I wanted to hate you, but I was young

And stupid and agreed to meet you in a few.

I met you at your den

Where we did it that night.

You kissed down my neck again

And I felt like I was in flight.

You drove me home at eleven

Instead of us walking.

I felt like I was in heaven,

But later that night I felt like I was

breaking…

It was 1:30 AM when I got the call

That you were in a crash.

I felt my heart fall

As I got to the hospital in a dash.

- Rebecca Saltzman

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Charlie HopkinsThere once was a bunny named Charlie Hopkins. Charlie looked like the average bunny rabbit you’d see prancing about, with spots, floppy ears, and all! Although he looked like it Charlie was no ordinary bunny, oh no, for Charlie belonged to the very special city of Bunning-ton, a special city that was hidden away from the likes of humans for centuries. The Bunnies of Bunning-ton had a very special duty, they were in charge of making sure the season of spring would come on time.

Charlie no less was the son of one of the most important rabbits in all of Bun-ning-ton, Rey Hoppy Hopkins. Mr. Hop-kins was an honored war hero in the fight against all the enemies of spring, helping keep all the bunnies in the bustling me-tropolis safe. Sadly Mr. Hopkins Hopped on to the cloudy bunny heaven in the sky after tangling with a few too many Jack Rabbit Bandits in the second Winter War. Still, Mr. Hopkins lived on in the bounc-ing hearts of many, his legacy still stands today, with a statue placed in the center of the town.

So Charlie had so much to live up to now you see, but unfortunately Charlie was nothing like his father. Charlie was very clumsy and curious, always slipping him-self into trouble. On top of all that, he was the laughing stock of his community, for he could never jump as high as the others. Charlie couldn’t help it though, for he had what the bunny-Docs called “bum bounce leg”. Since he was a little infant bunny be-ing taken care of his father he could never hop to his fullest potential.

Even so, Charlie decided that he would never let that stop him, he would gain the respect of every bunny in Bun-ning-ton. So he was going to avenge his father, by doing away with the biggest, meanest Jack Rabbit Bandit that ever

lived: One-eared Ravi. Ravi has been ter-rorizing Bunning-ton for ages, more so now that Mr. Hopkins is gone. Everyone that Charlie knew was scared to even whis-per the name of Ravi. Charlie was going to put a stop to the fear and terror once and for all.

Charlie set out from his cozy and cluttered Rabbit hole to the outside world, taking his makeshift backpack and sharp-ened carrot sword his father once held. On his way he went towards the outer forest, when he came across signs warning him of the danger he was about to face. Many Bunnies who left Bunning-ton never re-turned, or never returned in good health. Elder Bunnies still tell the horrifying stories today of what the Jack Rabbit Bandits are capable of, not to mention the Havana Bunny Mafia lurking about (those are an enemy for another story for a different day).

Charlie wasn’t scared one bit for the first few hours of hopping, well not until he was met with his first bandit. He knew that walking along the dirt patch path was going to lead him to the Bandit hideout known as Kindleton in a few days’ time. What he didn’t know was that the Bandits were this close to the city.

“Give me everything you got, or I’ll be feeding you to the foxes.” Said the ban-dit drawing his carrot blade, having a stench of old rotting carrots.

“I’m afraid I cannot, you see I must be on way to Kindleton, and I can-not allow myself to be distracted good sir.” Charlie spoke nervously, he knew that no amount of kind words could ever persuade someone like the bandit.

As quick as a lightning bolt the bandit struck out towards Charlie, but he missed, and not because Charlie dodged. No it was blocked by the bandit’s own blockheadedness when he saw the most

61

stunning female bunny he ever laid eyes on. As the bandit gawked at the Lady-bunny Charlie saw he’s chance to strike. So he drew he’s blade and lashed at the bandit with all he’s might, releasing a fiery battle cry.

There the bandit lay defeated on the path. It was now Charlie’s turn to gawk at the Lady-bunny.

“Hello? Excuse me? Are you al-right?” The Lady-bunny hollered and waved at Charlie, trying to shake him at of his trance.

“Um yes, yes of course. Thank you.” Charlie finally replied. Holstering his car-rot while he began to make his way down the path.

“So where are you headed? My name is Becca by the way.” She followed.

“That’s a very unusual name. Where I am going is none of your business.” Charlie didn’t need anyone following him, or anyone getting hurt.

“Oh don’t be so rude, if I’m not mis-taken I saved your life. Now what’s your name?”

“Charlie, and you didn’t save my life. That bandit was nothing.”

“Please, if not for me you could have lost an ear! You still haven’t told me where we’re going.” She said proudly.

Charlie himself knew this to be true. Maybe she could be helpful. Char-lie thought as he gazed at her, she was a beautiful bunny yes, but she also carried a blade, which meant she knew how to fight.

“I’m on my way to Kindleton.”

Becca stopped in place. “Kindleton? As in Ravi the bandit’s home?”

“Yes ma’am.” He exclaimed, proud-

ly still hopping along the path.

“Well alright, maybe there will be a couple gentle-bunnies that’d like to take me out for some carrot juice along the way.” Becca hopped alongside Charlie.

The two bunnies set off to Kindleton. Fighting valiantly alongside each other and becoming great friends. Charlie felt like he finally had someone he could call his mate, and Becca felt the same way. Through Bandit campsites and hideouts they slashed there way through with their carrot blades, vanquishing all those high rank bandits like Slack Ears, Round Hop-per, and even the notorious 3 Eared Reg-gie!

When they finally approached Kindleton they were met with dozens of bandit bunnies each and every one of them equipped with an arsenal of veggie weap-ons. It took some absolute strength and all their willpower to defeat the minions of Ravi. What with their Broccoli clubs and Beet mortars, the bandit force seemed almost impossible to defeat!

That was until the Bunny Bashers of Bunning-ton heard about Charlie’s cou-rageous effort to defeat Ravi and avenge his father, they had rushed on through the amazingly cleared out dirt passage way Charlie and Becca had left for them. Once they arrived upon Kindleton they immedi-ately reinforced Charlie with Green Bean Cannons and helped defeat every last min-ion, leaving Ravi the rabbit cowering in his rabbit hole. Quickly but surely meeting his demise.

Charlie and Becca forged on hav-ing new adventures, exploring the sandy planes and grassy fields while even making new friends, but those are different stories for another time. Now I must hop away, I have other stories to tell.

-Alex Vazquez

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The Predator

She was a Lion,

Ready to attack her prey at any given moment.

I was a gazelle; in my eyes I thought I was a lion.

She only wanted to hurt me and I wanted to love her.

She tore my heart to pieces, walking away as it was her habit.

I was left alone to face my slow death, while she was on the hunt again.

Why wasn’t I a lion too?

Would she have loved me the way I loved her?

I was just another heart to break.

It was her lifestyle; I wish I could’ve changed her

As she continues hunting

I’ll always remember the eyes that once looked at me with tenderness.

Now it’s cold.

- Ciera Farrell

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Blood Red

We are born without fur

So we steal if from others,

Silencing their purrs,

Skinning their mothers.

Then we soak it in dyes

To cover our lies

Of cruelty and shame

So we may have a taste of fame.

Clothes might express who we are

But must we really go as far

As to kill everything in our path;

An endless blood bath

In the name of fashion.

If we are too carefree

And lack compassion

All that will be left is you or me.

-John Corredor63

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Oh Moon

Oh moon, why are you so bright?It’s you I look up toEnchanting all the night.

To rise up to your heightMy dream would all come trueOh moon, why are you so bright?

You’re always in my sightWithout you, what would I do?Enchanting all the night.

In darkness you’re my lightHustling wind blowing throughOh moon, why are you so bright.

In my heart I hold you so tight,This love makes me newEnchanting all the night.

This attraction I can’t fightYou make me red while I’m blue,Oh moon, why are you so bright?Enchanting all the night.

- Leah Peretz

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La LuneLa Lune et une fleur blanche parmi l’herbe noireMalheureusement sa gloire doit toujours passerElle couvre la terre dans ses rayons divins de blanc-Jusqu’à ce que le soleil se lève et brilleUne fois la terre somber et horribleMaintenant éclairée par la main d’Artemis celesteElle est attirée par les cerfs sombresComme elle passe, connaître son frère est proche

-Juan GomezThe MoonThe moon is white flower among black grass Sadly her glory must always come to passShe covers the earth in godly rays of white- Until the sun rises and shines brightOnce a horrid dark land Now lit by the celestial Artemis’s handDrawn is she by dusky deer As she passes, know her brother is near

-Juan Gomez

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Day EightBy the time I got there,

You had already passed.

My whole face was wet with tears

Thinking about our last…

Our last kiss in your car,

Even though you never told me you cared.

I thought about that candy bar

On the second day that we shared.

It was hard looking back,

Knowing that probably all you ever wanted was to hook up.

I just wanted the memories to turn to black.

I was in love with you like a lovesick pup.

I actually had feelings

For you and didn’t just want sex.

I wanted a relationship with meaning,

But you didn’t want commitment, it was too complex.

Now you’re gone.

I don’t know whether to be sad

And move on

Or to be mad.

- Rebecca Saltzman

The Knot 2016

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Transcript of The Knot 2016