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Feb 10

To Vote, or Not to Vote?

   To vote is to take part in a Democratic system, and to help decide which candidate will be the most beneficial for your nation. But what if neither candidate represents your point of view? Is it still patriotic to vote, even if it means voting for someone you don’t believe in?    
   On November 8th, 2016, millions of Americans were asking themselves that very question. Forced to choose between Republican Donald Trump and Democrat Hillary Clinton, only about 60% of eligible voters actually cast their ballots.
   Most people would agree that it is our patriotic duty to vote. Voting honors the brave Americans who fought to give us freedom and a voice in our government.  Despite an election’s outcome, voting strengthens Democracy. Therefore, by going to the polls, you are supporting your country. “Voting is the right upon which all other rights depend.”
Feb 10

Blue

Jan 30

Planting Children

A/N: I wrote this story for the creative writing class I'm taking this semester. I had to base a <1,800 word story based on a specific picture. The final product is 1,781 words long and length was definitely my biggest struggle. How are you supposed to write short stuff?

The concept was simple, the execution, not so much. It was something out of a science fiction movie.
Jan 22

schizo

I wish I had known you
Before the darkness crept in,
Before the voices whispered,
Before the demons lurked in every corner.

Kind, compassionate, caring.
All manner of “C” sounds to describe you then.
They describe you now still,
Only changed.
Only not.

It first manifested,
Ceaseless, complex, cacophonic.
Your diary read “I can’t take this,”
And you hit your mother with a wrench,
Or so you thought.

Meal time was spent on the porch,
Alone.
Inside the house, siblings laughed.
Inside your head, something laughed too.

Aunty took one look and said it,
A cruel, careless word.
The word of a trained nurse:
“Schizophrenia”

Dad was scared to death.
You were 3 years older than him,
What if he caught the loony gene too?
Oh God, what if they all did?

A trip to Ohio was supposed to set you straight.
Audio download:
schizo 3.mp3
Jan 08

Morning Coffee

Jan 05

Art :)

Sorry for the quality, I'm not too good at media/technology stuff. These are just little projects I've done over the years in watercolor, acrylic paint, ink, and oil paint. Hope you enjoy!
 
Dec 22

I don't want to hear it

"how many
Jews
can you fit in a car?"

Can you please not
say that?

Can you not even
think it?

This is stem class
why aren't you paying attention?
(like everyone else)

And
can you please wait
and check
(with me)
before you make these jokes?

They aren't funny.
(they aren't even a joke)
They are just a way for
you to make fun of people
so that you
"look cool"
in front of your friends.

(it's not "cool")

"How many
Jews
can you fit in a car?"
you say.

I don't know.
(Why are we talking about this?)

"Two in the front,
three in the middle,
and as many ashes as
you can fit in the back"

I'm half Jewish,
I don't want to
hear that!
(Why are we talking about this?)

Can you please not
say that?

Can you not even 

Dec 17
poem 4 comments challenge: Banned
Icarus Blackmore's picture

7 Words


Just Turn Away.
Avert your gaze.
Tear out and,
Crumple up the page.

It isn’t there,
If you don’t look.
It’ll disappear if
You just keep yourself unaware.

Vulnerable
        You can beat ‘em,
        Even when they’re down
        On the ground.
        Believe they can stand?    
        Then just hit ‘em again.
        
        It’s not your fault,    
        That they’re bleeding so bad,
        If you don’t want it to be.
       Just don’t admit it,    
       Don’t let sympathy in.

Entitlement
        After all nothing is given,
        Not even human rights or decency,
        Without something asked for in return,
        And if they don’t have anything to give,
        Take from them ‘til they do.
        
        We earn things here,
        So tell ‘em to pull themselves up,
Dec 14

Summer Travels

I took these photos early this year in Washington D.C., Massachussttes and Cape Cod. I inclued the "Unless" photo not because I think its particuarly good or even okay, but because I think it expresses a strong political statment about Global Warming. The photo was taken at the Washington D.C.'s People's March for the Climate in the spring of 2017.
 
Dec 10

Not Forever

When I was younger,
I did not understand
why I was not allowed outside after dark
or why I couldn't play with knives.

When I was younger,
I could not fathom
why my parents never watched the news around me
Or why I was told to say
no, I don't feel comfortable when you do that.

When I was younger,
I got angry when
I couldn't walk home with my friends.
or go see the new PG13 movie in town.

Now I am twelve.
Still too young.

But old enough to understand
That there are bad people who lurk after dark
and there is no need for a little girl to have knives,
no need for more violence in the world.
And the news is full of swearing, shouting politicians
Whose every move 
Seems to wreak havoc and obscenity 
And I need to be able to say no
because I am a girl.
And apparently, that's an issue and a safety hazard.
Nov 27

dancing on a white picket fence


I saw her
when she was
dancing on a white picket fence.

The sunlight dappled her
autumn hair and the freckles on her nose
as she twirled in the breeze.

Closed eyes
while the melody
played on her skin.

Her feet knew the way
like they had been dancing
for a thousand years.

A daisy
flipped behind her left ear
as she swayed, skipped, and jumped.

The world was far away
for her
frozen behind her in time.

But the moment ceased
as a car horn blew
and she was gone when I turned back.

I used to return looking for
the girl on
the white picket fence.

But now that fence is gray,
the paint is gone,
and it is lonely.

But, maybe someday
a girl will return to dance
on that white picket fence.
 
Nov 20
poem 9 comments challenge: Wonder
H20.hollym's picture

Pink and Blue

I wonder why our boys are told
that they mustn't let their souls slip out,
they remain safe if it is hidden.
It would be an act of horror
if it were to roll down their cheek for all to see.

I wonder why our boys are told
that they should blaze blue or rage red,
as they throw, or catch, or tackle.
The words beautiful should not be uttered
about anything other than a female,
especially not yourself.

I wonder why our boys are told
that every situation must be grabbed by
their muscled arms alone,
and they must do whatever they need to do
to shove all of the pieces into place.

I wonder why our girls are told
that their bodies must flawlessly pink.
All imperfections in the stitching
are her fault and must be 
covered up otherwise she
is just an unwanted scrap of fabric.

I wonder why our girls are told
that their worth lies in their 
Nov 17

Masterpiece

My life is a canvas,
The paints of my palette are the experiences and lessons that I have learned,
And my pictures are the events that come with living.
I am the artist.
I'm the only one who can paint my story.

So why do other people feel the need to paint my life for me?
And why do I let them?

This is my masterpiece, why am I letting these amateurs deface it?

Their bold, sharp, jagged brush strokes stand out harshly against my own smooth flowing ones.

I paint with emotion and meaning.
With veiled images and detail.

I learned to paint with a sharp eye to detail at a young age.
A skill that is only achieved through living in the exposure to the cold, dark world.
I've been through to much for a child.

But their brush strokes,
They're stiff and cold.
Void of meaning.
Lacking in detail.
They haven't been exposed to the world like I have just yet.
Oct 25

Out

I need 
to get out of this place,
where the ideas crush
my wings 
and chain me down,
instead of letting me fly.
I need to 
to get out of this place,
where the concrete
jungles loom,
and the smoke 
from the factories
clogs the air
and enters my lungs,
making me choke.
I need 
to get out of this place,
where the regular colors
are beige and gray,
and I've started fading,
slowly blending in.
I need 
to get out of this place,
where I've started 
to disappear at
the edges,
becoming like everyone else
in the crowd.
I need 
to get out of this place,
where I am slowly
becoming 
unimportant
and you can only 
see me 
from the 
edge 
of
your
eye,
and when you try to 
see me clearly,
I am not there.
I need 
to get out of this place
where 
I am 
Oct 23
wondering about rain's picture

Clair de Lune

Clair de Lune played over and over in my head
as my fingers followed each note,
gently grazing the keys on the piano.
I imagined I was debussy under a full moon
with its light spilling over me,
playing to my little sister as she falls happily asleep.
The rolling of the music matching the lethargic rolling of the oceans waves
on a beach from a summer long past.
The stillness of the night stood unbroken
except for the occasional laughter as a couple in love walks by.
Stars streak past and the world is spinning as
the notes come faster and faster reaching a crescendo.
Then for a moment everything stops.
It's just a moment, but it's filled with the quiet night
and the warmth of a happy memory.
When the next note falls all is calm,
the song is ending and the moon is still crawling over head.
My little sister slowly wakes
and waves to someone waiting for us
both to come home to our warm beds,
Oct 22
poem 0 comments challenge: I Am

I Am Who I Am

I am who I am -
The birds in the silky blue sky,
Silently soaring.
The bright painted leafs on the trees,
Swaying in the Breeze. 
The unknown, unnamed fish in the sea;
Swimming wherever the current 
Takes me.
Oct 17

Vegas.

Editor's Note: This piece is featured on vtdigger.org. 

9:50 pm
a starlit city on the
dawn of october,
burned red with bar signs
and stop lights.

on this night in Sin City
steam rose from the
floor of the concrete jungle.
predators prowled, prey lurked.
metal vines swung from construction sites,
sun and moon peered between buildings to cast
light on the animals on the street.

the air was aromatic
and unapologetic.
in the wake of
darkness.
spilled beer, cigarette smoke,
and the stench of sweat wafted
from underneath
sewage grates and
into the noses of passers by,
residing in the back of their
sinuses.

fear was absent.
no one feasted their noses on
that metallic stink of blood.
to me it always smelled like cheap rings
Oct 12

muse


through the lens i saw you
shudder in the cold.
i captured your paths detaching
frost from blades of grass,
scrunching your eyes with a
side-smile
passing over your face.
glasses fogging up,
breath-clouds,
like smoke through dense
december air,,

i wonder why you always look happier on film.
 
Sep 29
whatever's picture

the daily ritual

Mom. Give me space. You’re sUFFOCATING ME. I’m not allowed to go places with my friends anymore because, yes, I’ve made some questionable choices in the past, but I’m a teenager! All teenagers are a little irresponsible! Let me live woman! If you continue to try to “protect me” I’m going to go to college and go absolutely crazy! I know, I know, it’s because you want me to be safe, you care about me, blaahh blaahh blaaaahhh. I want me to be safe too, so that’s why I’m not going to get trashed and jump off a bridge!! Stop treating me like I’m dumb! I’m not going to get into trouble oh my god. You don’t think the “good kids” do that stuff?? I can guarantee you that they do. Everyone in high school does! You did! AAAAAAA GIVE ME SPACE

 
Sep 24
Fiona Ella's picture

rock cycle

i discreetly wrote this in science class, constantly looking over my shoulder to make sure no one was prowling around, ready to pounce on me for being off-task, which is why it's so short. if anyone was wondering. 

weathering doesn't happen quckly, 
you can't wear a mountain down to a speck in a day. 
no, 
it takes a long long time, 
centuries of raindrops streaking the surface, 
centuries of gusty winds whipping at a raw nose, 
hours and hours of awkward stares
of plaguing thoughts
i'm wrong, i'm stupid, 
i am being judged

people talk about flames going out
but a flame is snuffed in seconds. 
and it takes ages to wear a person down. 
so i say, 
i'm a mountain. 
buffetted by wind
someone else's tears washing away my face. 
making a brave last stand
that's slowly making me
disappear into

nothing
into specks of
dust
specks of