Maida Ruben
Sing For Me
posted by Bowery at
12:22 PM
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1 comments
Monday, January 30, 2006
Tuesday, January 24, 2006
Eli Scripps
Why We Fight (an alphabet poem)
All the anger you have built up deep inside of you,
Because of all the sights you’ve seen and traumas you’ve been through,
Create a cloud of memories that haunt you as a ghost,
Demanding that you strike out at the ones you love the most.
Every time you shut me out, look down and turn away,
Finally I start to cry, there’s nothing I can say.
Gone away who I once knew, replaced with someone else,
How can I know what you want when you don’t know yourself?
I love you, you know this, I tell you every day.
Just tell me why you feel the need to always run away,
Knowing that you love me and that night will turn to day,
Look at me, turn around, take a breath and stay.
Maybe you’re afraid to change and face what’s really there,
Never having known the sense of having someone care.
One day I hope you realize that his was meant to last.
Put an end to hurting me, forget your haunting past.
Questions as to why you do this race inside my mind.
Round and round right through the pain but answers I can’t find.
Saying that you’re sorry does not always make it right,
The marks left on my body ask me why I didn’t fight.
Unable to move those fearful nights I tried to understand,
Victimized by loving you, I could not move my hand.
Wont you put an end to this and just give peace a chance?
X’s and O’s attached to a note, a perfect school yard romance.
You are everything to me, I’ve yet to find out why,
Zombies from the past come out and always make us cry.
All the anger you have built up deep inside of you,
Because of all the sights you’ve seen and traumas you’ve been through,
Create a cloud of memories that haunt you as a ghost,
Demanding that you strike out at the ones you love the most.
Every time you shut me out, look down and turn away,
Finally I start to cry, there’s nothing I can say.
Gone away who I once knew, replaced with someone else,
How can I know what you want when you don’t know yourself?
I love you, you know this, I tell you every day.
Just tell me why you feel the need to always run away,
Knowing that you love me and that night will turn to day,
Look at me, turn around, take a breath and stay.
Maybe you’re afraid to change and face what’s really there,
Never having known the sense of having someone care.
One day I hope you realize that his was meant to last.
Put an end to hurting me, forget your haunting past.
Questions as to why you do this race inside my mind.
Round and round right through the pain but answers I can’t find.
Saying that you’re sorry does not always make it right,
The marks left on my body ask me why I didn’t fight.
Unable to move those fearful nights I tried to understand,
Victimized by loving you, I could not move my hand.
Wont you put an end to this and just give peace a chance?
X’s and O’s attached to a note, a perfect school yard romance.
You are everything to me, I’ve yet to find out why,
Zombies from the past come out and always make us cry.
posted by Bowery at
12:28 PM
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1 comments
Saturday, January 21, 2006
Mary Corff-Riley
The Thief’s Reflections
Terror reaches out it’s non-corporal arms, freezes, and releases us. Our feet pound into the hungry earth, shadows loom, and rustles scream. Our throats are hoarse with suppressed shrieks and lack of oxygen. Like a hamster spinning madly in its wheel, my legs pump the bike peddles. Crazy eyed like a horse about to be shot we turn the corner and find my house.
It’s Saturday night. My friend, Audrey, and I take a ride on my sister’s bike. She sits in the basket behind the bike. I peddle for us both. Down the winding trail of dirt, shrubs, and cacti the big red bike nearly collapses under our weight. We walk it up the tall hill, which, when we top illuminates our school. The sun is low on the horizon. We can’t stay long.
Parking our vehicle we explore. The playground becomes a dragon, trying to capture us. We nimbly escape its clutches and taunt it by moving from monkey bars, to swings, to the climbing gym. Faltering in our mindless play we escape, and stand in a hollow to catch our breath. The depression is a short hall. It leads to the entrance to our school. The sun’s light is pale and dim. A bright light catches our eyes. The doorway has a window. Through the window we see the long hallway leading towards our computer class. Light glints enticingly from the open door leading to the computer lab. “No one’s supposed to be here,” whispers Audrey in my ear. Trickles of fear tickle my back, the hair on my arms rise. “Let’s go check out the other doors, see if they’re open,” I whisper back. We creep over to the other side of the building, peeking into the glass doors. Inside all is dark, deserted. The breeze chills our bare arms. Cautiously we approach the doors. Grasping the cold, iron handles we pull. The doors are unyielding. Relived we let out a sigh, glance up, and stare into the eyes of two raggedy men.
Terror reaches out. It’s non-corporal arms freezes, releases us. Our feet pound. Hungry earth and looming shadows. Rustles scream. Our throats are hoarse. Suppressed screams, lack of oxygen. A hamster spinning madly. My legs pump. The peddles to my bike flash. Crazy eyed. A horse about to be shot. We turn the corner and find my house.
Bursting open my front door we slam into the comforting presence of my mother. “Two men are hijacking our school and stealing our computers!” My mom, taken slightly back by our intensity, calmly replies, “It’s just your imagination. You probably just saw some of your teachers and didn’t recognize them.” Audrey and I glance at each other. We had forgotten about the teachers. They were in danger! The crazy men were probably holding them at gun point! In a flash we shot back out the door, get on my poor sister’s bike, and head back to the perilous school.
At the top of the hill our bravery falters. The school looks deserted, haunted, something that belongs in our worst nightmares. We are just two ten year old girls. What can we do? “We’re their only hope,” Audrey states soberly. I nod thinking of our homeroom teacher and how much I wanted to give her my homework on Monday. We leave the bike at the bottom of the hill. Slinking towards the school we jump at every sound and movement, ready for an insane bugler to jump out shooting. Several times we were forced to retrace our steps, feeling bodiless, hostile eyes watching us. We skulk up to the doors where we had seen the men. History had never know two braver girls. After waiting for an eternity, we rush out of the shadows and stare into the glass doors. Two people stand there staring at us. We flinch, prepared to bolt, when we realize that the people had no feet. We stare at them. They stare back. Finally our folly dawns of us and we burst out laughing. Our reflections laugh with us.
Terror reaches out it’s non-corporal arms, freezes, and releases us. Our feet pound into the hungry earth, shadows loom, and rustles scream. Our throats are hoarse with suppressed shrieks and lack of oxygen. Like a hamster spinning madly in its wheel, my legs pump the bike peddles. Crazy eyed like a horse about to be shot we turn the corner and find my house.
It’s Saturday night. My friend, Audrey, and I take a ride on my sister’s bike. She sits in the basket behind the bike. I peddle for us both. Down the winding trail of dirt, shrubs, and cacti the big red bike nearly collapses under our weight. We walk it up the tall hill, which, when we top illuminates our school. The sun is low on the horizon. We can’t stay long.
Parking our vehicle we explore. The playground becomes a dragon, trying to capture us. We nimbly escape its clutches and taunt it by moving from monkey bars, to swings, to the climbing gym. Faltering in our mindless play we escape, and stand in a hollow to catch our breath. The depression is a short hall. It leads to the entrance to our school. The sun’s light is pale and dim. A bright light catches our eyes. The doorway has a window. Through the window we see the long hallway leading towards our computer class. Light glints enticingly from the open door leading to the computer lab. “No one’s supposed to be here,” whispers Audrey in my ear. Trickles of fear tickle my back, the hair on my arms rise. “Let’s go check out the other doors, see if they’re open,” I whisper back. We creep over to the other side of the building, peeking into the glass doors. Inside all is dark, deserted. The breeze chills our bare arms. Cautiously we approach the doors. Grasping the cold, iron handles we pull. The doors are unyielding. Relived we let out a sigh, glance up, and stare into the eyes of two raggedy men.
Terror reaches out. It’s non-corporal arms freezes, releases us. Our feet pound. Hungry earth and looming shadows. Rustles scream. Our throats are hoarse. Suppressed screams, lack of oxygen. A hamster spinning madly. My legs pump. The peddles to my bike flash. Crazy eyed. A horse about to be shot. We turn the corner and find my house.
Bursting open my front door we slam into the comforting presence of my mother. “Two men are hijacking our school and stealing our computers!” My mom, taken slightly back by our intensity, calmly replies, “It’s just your imagination. You probably just saw some of your teachers and didn’t recognize them.” Audrey and I glance at each other. We had forgotten about the teachers. They were in danger! The crazy men were probably holding them at gun point! In a flash we shot back out the door, get on my poor sister’s bike, and head back to the perilous school.
At the top of the hill our bravery falters. The school looks deserted, haunted, something that belongs in our worst nightmares. We are just two ten year old girls. What can we do? “We’re their only hope,” Audrey states soberly. I nod thinking of our homeroom teacher and how much I wanted to give her my homework on Monday. We leave the bike at the bottom of the hill. Slinking towards the school we jump at every sound and movement, ready for an insane bugler to jump out shooting. Several times we were forced to retrace our steps, feeling bodiless, hostile eyes watching us. We skulk up to the doors where we had seen the men. History had never know two braver girls. After waiting for an eternity, we rush out of the shadows and stare into the glass doors. Two people stand there staring at us. We flinch, prepared to bolt, when we realize that the people had no feet. We stare at them. They stare back. Finally our folly dawns of us and we burst out laughing. Our reflections laugh with us.
posted by Bowery at
9:31 AM
|
0 comments
Dena Qashqai
Chapped lips
I do not know where to go
I have brain blockage
Help me!
I don’t like it
It gives you a tingly feeling inside
It’s cute and happy
No- I never have experienced love
I can’t wait to experience the feeling of love
Nervous
Who has chap stick my lips are burning
They burn
I do not know where to go
I have brain blockage
Help me!
I don’t like it
It gives you a tingly feeling inside
It’s cute and happy
No- I never have experienced love
I can’t wait to experience the feeling of love
Nervous
Who has chap stick my lips are burning
They burn
posted by Bowery at
9:30 AM
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0 comments
John Wheeler
Mr. Bingamen sat in his executive chair in a corner office that overlooked New York City. His tie displayed the perfect dimple only obtainable by someone who has worn a suit everyday since the day he earned his masters in business administration. After hearing the proposal, he looked disdainfully at Howard Stern, the CFO of NY mortgage inc. who wore many wrinkles on his face induced by 34 years of stressful the business. Mr. Bingamen did not have to say it; his slight lift in the eyebrow and mocking smile clearly ridiculed Mr. Stern’s proposal to merge businesses.
posted by Bowery at
9:27 AM
|
0 comments
Friday, January 20, 2006
Morgan Wells
Dog
A sorry excuse for a dog
No loyalty
No malice
Nothing
We ruin them
Make them sexless
We kick them and hope they don't hate us forever
They should, but they always come back
I always come back
Always
A drink or two and I'll be fine
That's just what I need to take my mind off of things
A kick in the throat
A burn in the stomach
Like swallowing a searing hot razorblade
But we do it
Day in and day out
We always come back
A sorry excuse for a dog
No loyalty
No malice
Nothing
We ruin them
Make them sexless
We kick them and hope they don't hate us forever
They should, but they always come back
I always come back
Always
A drink or two and I'll be fine
That's just what I need to take my mind off of things
A kick in the throat
A burn in the stomach
Like swallowing a searing hot razorblade
But we do it
Day in and day out
We always come back
posted by Bowery at
10:06 AM
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0 comments
Morgan Wells
Dice
The good man's always waiting for the tables to turn
But the tables don't have to turn, and they never will
All he has to do is walk around them
Perhaps to try his hand at a high-stakes game of Blackjack
Or decorate his shoulder with the hand of a pretty lady
But he can't walk that far
He tries
His legs snap at the knees and he goes crawling back to where he started
He talks
But he can't really roll the dice
He's too good
With each attempt,
He always comes back
Crawling
Just like me
The good man's always waiting for the tables to turn
But the tables don't have to turn, and they never will
All he has to do is walk around them
Perhaps to try his hand at a high-stakes game of Blackjack
Or decorate his shoulder with the hand of a pretty lady
But he can't walk that far
He tries
His legs snap at the knees and he goes crawling back to where he started
He talks
But he can't really roll the dice
He's too good
With each attempt,
He always comes back
Crawling
Just like me
posted by Bowery at
9:57 AM
|
0 comments
Tuesday, January 17, 2006
Friday, January 13, 2006
Thursday, January 12, 2006
Monday, January 09, 2006
Alyse Perrin
Innocence
The days are always cloudy for a girl named Monica, she wakes up every day with a tear drop running down her baby soft skin. For she was only thirteen. Without much knowledge of right and wrong, she sneaks out the window, trusting anyone who comes anywhere near her. As she walks down the street waiting for a ride, she thinks briefly about what she is doing. “Would running away from my problem help me?” She keeps walking. Step by step, getting more scared, she starts to shake. A car pulls up rolling down the window slowly as a familiar face appears. She gets in the car and the guy speeds away. Shaking in the back seat nerves surrounded by four guys for she is the only girl. Not thinking whether it’s right or wrong she is way to far to turn back. Drinking and Driving around town in a black car with tinted windows. She feels free yet trapped there is no way, she can get away from these men, not boys, but men who are starting to touch her, look at her, like they want something more than to help her but to use her. Feeling more and more tired because of what she drank, she slowly lies down falling asleep yet still awake feeling the guys hands start to touch her. As she starts to wake up not knowing what happened. She opens her eyes slowly looking at the guy’s faces seeing their smirks she goes back to having fear in her eyes.
The car starts to stop at a gas station she thinks to herself “maybe I should get out,” but with fear that the cops are after her by now she stays in the car. Thinking she didn’t want to be alone she called her friend and asked if she wanted to come “chill”. Driving to her friend house she’s think I wonder if mom’s wondering were I am. They get to her friend Nina’s house. Nina got into the car and they all took off. Monica feeling a little safer started getting crazy, drunk crazy actually. The two girls passing out at one of the boys houses by 3:00 a.m., while the girls are sleeping the guys are in the living room blazing each other down.
In the morning they wake up to a parent coming in the room saying time for school looking at them as if they were sluts. As they got up and out of the house in a hurry so the parents would not call the cops or something drastic like that. Scared but getting used to being away from home and her mom, Monica and her friend Nina ends up at this boys house who Nina friend really like’s. They all go and smoke, drink a little. Monica passes out on the bed while Nina and the guy got busy. When I woke up his parents came in and said that the cops are on the way. An hour latter the cops arrived and they took us home.
The days are always cloudy for a girl named Monica, she wakes up every day with a tear drop running down her baby soft skin. For she was only thirteen. Without much knowledge of right and wrong, she sneaks out the window, trusting anyone who comes anywhere near her. As she walks down the street waiting for a ride, she thinks briefly about what she is doing. “Would running away from my problem help me?” She keeps walking. Step by step, getting more scared, she starts to shake. A car pulls up rolling down the window slowly as a familiar face appears. She gets in the car and the guy speeds away. Shaking in the back seat nerves surrounded by four guys for she is the only girl. Not thinking whether it’s right or wrong she is way to far to turn back. Drinking and Driving around town in a black car with tinted windows. She feels free yet trapped there is no way, she can get away from these men, not boys, but men who are starting to touch her, look at her, like they want something more than to help her but to use her. Feeling more and more tired because of what she drank, she slowly lies down falling asleep yet still awake feeling the guys hands start to touch her. As she starts to wake up not knowing what happened. She opens her eyes slowly looking at the guy’s faces seeing their smirks she goes back to having fear in her eyes.
The car starts to stop at a gas station she thinks to herself “maybe I should get out,” but with fear that the cops are after her by now she stays in the car. Thinking she didn’t want to be alone she called her friend and asked if she wanted to come “chill”. Driving to her friend house she’s think I wonder if mom’s wondering were I am. They get to her friend Nina’s house. Nina got into the car and they all took off. Monica feeling a little safer started getting crazy, drunk crazy actually. The two girls passing out at one of the boys houses by 3:00 a.m., while the girls are sleeping the guys are in the living room blazing each other down.
In the morning they wake up to a parent coming in the room saying time for school looking at them as if they were sluts. As they got up and out of the house in a hurry so the parents would not call the cops or something drastic like that. Scared but getting used to being away from home and her mom, Monica and her friend Nina ends up at this boys house who Nina friend really like’s. They all go and smoke, drink a little. Monica passes out on the bed while Nina and the guy got busy. When I woke up his parents came in and said that the cops are on the way. An hour latter the cops arrived and they took us home.
posted by Bowery at
2:13 PM
|
0 comments
Eli Scripps
EX.
In my darkest dreams I see
You're much closer now to me
I have got you in my hair
I can feel you round me everywhere
If I ever was to tell
I could talk of you so well
But you're here in me and will always be
The secret that I want to keep and
In a kiss lies so much more than touch
And my life has found a new temptation
And ecstasy has meaning once again
I find suddenly I'm closer to you
And I find all my wildest dreams have come true
While I spin round my heart is beating for two
And I am wishing it will always be you and I
I will come with you
Doing all we want to do
Seeing things we've never seen
Going places we haven't tried to be
Touching me and touching you
All the love we never knew
Marked with 'x' you see is our destiny
As we run together we could be so free
In a kiss lies so much more than touch
And my life has found a new temptation
And ecstasy has meaning once again
I find suddenly I'm closer to you
And I find all my wildest dreams have come true
While I spin round my heart is beating for two
And I am wishing it will always be you and I
In my darkest dreams I see
You're much closer now to me
I have got you in my hair
I can feel you round me everywhere
If I ever was to tell
I could talk of you so well
But you're here in me and will always be
The secret that I want to keep and
In a kiss lies so much more than touch
And my life has found a new temptation
And ecstasy has meaning once again
I find suddenly I'm closer to you
And I find all my wildest dreams have come true
While I spin round my heart is beating for two
And I am wishing it will always be you and I
I will come with you
Doing all we want to do
Seeing things we've never seen
Going places we haven't tried to be
Touching me and touching you
All the love we never knew
Marked with 'x' you see is our destiny
As we run together we could be so free
In a kiss lies so much more than touch
And my life has found a new temptation
And ecstasy has meaning once again
I find suddenly I'm closer to you
And I find all my wildest dreams have come true
While I spin round my heart is beating for two
And I am wishing it will always be you and I
posted by Bowery at
2:09 PM
|
0 comments
Vera
scars
I have scars like
America
So deep
Not even my politicians know
I have scars like
An animal trapped in a zoo
Forever caged
And always with a wild instinct
I have scars like
A forest at night
Never found
Without a flashlight and a compass
I have scars like
Malcolm X
Blatantly honest
With out fear of judgment
I have scars like
A burnt CD
Copied
Only to get the same product for cheaper
I have scars like
A science theory
Only existing
Until someone proves they’re not
I have scars like
8th grade rumors
whispered about
but never confronted
I have scars like
A permanent marker
Wait long enough
And they’ll go away
I have scars
I have scars like
America
So deep
Not even my politicians know
I have scars like
An animal trapped in a zoo
Forever caged
And always with a wild instinct
I have scars like
A forest at night
Never found
Without a flashlight and a compass
I have scars like
Malcolm X
Blatantly honest
With out fear of judgment
I have scars like
A burnt CD
Copied
Only to get the same product for cheaper
I have scars like
A science theory
Only existing
Until someone proves they’re not
I have scars like
8th grade rumors
whispered about
but never confronted
I have scars like
A permanent marker
Wait long enough
And they’ll go away
I have scars
posted by Bowery at
2:02 PM
|
0 comments
