Vision+Voice

In the morning bright, I wake to catch the gleam
That fresh gust abroad travels soft and low
For each swoosh of water sounds like a dream
My soul moves to these lands I’ve yet to go
The Roman streets, oh how I yearn for France
Each cool, yet still, my own heart lights with fire
Beyond one lies another I give a chance
All destinations spark my soul’s desire
The world, it steals my freedom every time
For every mountain hums as warm sand sings
Grass of each place gleams as it would a lime
Yet when journey ends, home sweetly still rings
So I explore this world to seek rare peace
For in the end, myself finds a new piece

by Sydney H.

Ever since you made your mark in me,
your voice sharp;the screeching sounds you
tell me to follow.

I am a rose growing through
Broken Concrete Sidewalks-
unsure where I belong,
I still grow myself in this path,
weary and hollow.

You’ve created a sir in my heart,
things i can not control
you’ve engraved your darkest essence
into my soul, turning my life
dark and cold.

Living without fear is one to many,
you keep me in a faultful question-
Living or Dying?
Growing up with you has fueled your power,
abusing thus to make me feel like a coward.

actions speak louder than words,
your words cut through with the shiniest blade,
the actions i will never obtain,
leaving me restained.

Counting down the dreadful hours
of each darkened night,
awaiting for soft refreshing light.

The impact you have on me is irreplaceable,
it shaped me to feel utterly belittled.
“thinking outside the box” was once fun,
until one night you screamed and made me run.

Each scar I count is one more won,
I now can feel the warmth of the sun,
looking across the scenic way,
alone on a crowded bay,
these scars represent Us.
they shine and flicker but
they never made my smile any dimmer.

Your hold on me comes and go’s,
I find reminders of you and it shows,
you haunt me forever,
till death do us part,
I am my own soul,
regaining this lawful heart.

by Ky S.

Humbly should we quarter him with outstretched hand
A Tyrant, unfit to rule a free-born nation
Where liberty is, there is my land

Weeping mothers, families disbanded
Freedom for newfound hopefuls is put on probation
Humbly should we quarter him with outstretched hand

Ironically do we refer to it a motherland
Ruled by a child who’s ruled by temptation
Where liberty is, there is my land

Bodies governed by unrelenting command
Land of the free and home of serration
Humbly should we quarter him with outstretched hand

Shotgun barrels where children should stand
Freedom’s head sawed off, ruinated legislation
Where liberty is, there is my land

Stirring is the revolt of silenced contraband
Blind eyes no longer turned from exploitation
Humbly should we quarter him with outstretched hand
Where liberty is, there is my land

by Sean G.

Hey, I have to tell you something about that one girl named Change
I know that you know her
And I just need someone to talk to and to spill the tea on what’s been happening
But anyways, listen and let me vent real quick

You see, Change and I have a complicated relationship
These are strong words but I love her and hate her at the same time
I know that sounds rough, and I may sound mean
But you should hear about the things she does to me
One day, she smooth talks and whispers in my ear about all the things we’ll achieve
And the next, she’s yelling about how I’m falling behind and there’s no hope left
She’s there to pick me up when I have fallen, but also pushes me back down deep into my stress
It drives me insane but I must confess
Through the pain I still call her and text
Because Change is enticing
The way she walks, the way she talks
The way she sways her hips and the way she tricks me with the words that come out of her lips
The way her eyes never fail to hypnotize me
because I can get a glimpse of the future through them

So with me describing this to you
Can’t you imagine how I felt when she left me for other guys
When she was right by my side, life felt great
Life was picking up momentum and swinging in a different direction
Life was peaking and reaching perfection
I was eager to take on the day, but now I’m sitting by myself watching the sun set
Gosh, I just can’t stand her
Can you understand how much it hurt
She was a blessing and an abundance of light
That left me in the dark when she was no longer in sight
All the blessings that Change once gave me
She left me and gave them to other people, is it jealousy?
One day I call Change and tell her to stay away from me
And the next day I’m telling Change I sincerely miss her and I’m feeling lonely
I’m stagnant and am like still water without her
Life is boring and without meaning without her
I have no one else’s shoulder to lean on without her
I’ve just been stuck dreaming about her
And waiting for her to look at her phone screen and see a text from me
Saying I miss her dearly
But what am I doing?
Why am I inviting her back, just break my heart again
Yes, I know, I know my relationship with her is strange
So, since I know you have met her
Please tell me
What’s your experience with Change?

by Joshua T.

I woke today with longing in my gut,
Though hunger of the heart would be too drab
“The fasting man does more to give than have”
I struggle to recall who said it, but
The words have been too powerful to tut
So, once again, I take my rations half
And gift them to the family down the ave
Then hobble back with shriveled eyes to shut

“The fasting man does more to give than have-”
I dream a voice calling to me, but why?
“To question is to lend oneself to sin”
“I know your evil!” I shout, dreaming back
Am I condemned to fast until I die?
I struggle to recall that name again…

by Ace H.

There’s a Hole in my ceiling
Loneliness creeps through it
It’s on the prowl
I see it in my room
I see it in the yard
Like a stray dog,
It’s learned where I live
Some days, I never see him
Most days, I do
He’s a water stain
Rapidly spreading across the wall
Music attempts to push Loneliness
Back up through the Hole
Back into darkness
But he will return
The very next day

by Wally H.

bright flowers; dark clothes
stopped cars- a parade
faces of people I don’t recognize
they sit and stare
but I stand
paths of pedals lead to –
I can see him

days flow; the river winds
the leaves – they turn
green, yellow, red, brown
and into winter
and yet- I stop in my tracks
I still see him

white roses; a wedding dress
cheers arise from the crowd
I stare into her eyes
fireworks in the sky
often I forget now
but still, I remember him

long nights; little rest
my son cries
he looks just like me
I’m busy now
the face that used to echo
now a whisper in my mind

wrinkled faces; tired eyes
a wife by my side
a distant figure in the doorway
a face I have met before
and as the memories come flooding back,
it’s only him now
smiling back at me

by Grant W.

I want rain boots,
I like the look of them,
Covered in polka dot memories,
Of splashes, and dancing with our wingspans stretched,
Echoing laughs and white noise,
Squeaking rubber when we cross the threshold of our home,
Mud prints, we haven’t cleaned off our childhood yet,
I want rain boots,
But it doesn’t rain here much,
Not many polka dot memories to make,
Not much dancing,
Less echoing laughs and much more white noise,
Dry squeaks that give dry headaches,
But someday I’ll go somewhere far,
Where the rain comes down pouring,
And the laughter splashes,
And the polka dots will cover my feet,
Rehydrating my polka dot memories,
That have drifted so far.

by Lizzy H.

What could I have done to keep you around?
My repentances will nibble from my toes to the tips of my ears
I’ll burn my barn to kill the rats
Because blazing for eternity
is easier than the steady bleed
of loving you still.

Your absence is haunting.
I’ll pull the wool over my eyes again
and let myself drown
Because sinking for eternity
is easier than the throbbing heartache
of loving you still.

How selfish of me—
to regret not holding you,
to mourn what I knew not of you,
to loathe those who hurt you.

I cherish you still,
my Valentine.

by Emil H.

I am a snail.
Timid. Frail.
Stuck in my home
which I carry, endlessly, forever.

But the outside isn’t all.
I am not just that:
a slow moving comet
in a petrichor desert.

To tired eyes, that is me.
Stuck to a grass blade or cooking concrete,
a passing fad made obsolete.
That is, from the outside, my shell.

Inside,
Past my pearl exterior
is a mechanism finely tuned.
It lives there, by my heart
ticking away in silver song.

Hungrily,
Flip me over.
Peel me apart.
Cut open my foot and pry with muddy hands
Past tender meat, colored vibrant with imagination,
and find that clockwork heart.

Feel my ticking tempo
my inner metronome.
Feel my choked dancing pulse
and know the songs hidden within.

Even as your gluttonous urges
and sanguine hands
squeeze out the final measures.

Feel the weight of the weightless
the libraries of books unfilled–
vivisected flesh colored,
living, in my shell.

Know what the outside hides, now.
The dull cartilage carapace
that briefly blotted out your asphalt universe.
A gate, a key, a padlock.
The dying light of infinite knowledge
coloring your five-fingered greed.

That is, on the inside, myself.

Vibrant hue and pops of color
dot the cul-de-sac like an oil spill
as your kin step on snails
and stain their hands with possibility.

by Audrey B.