Category: 2019-20 Submissions

I used to say that life is clear for me—
the crystal water of a shoreline,
bewitching blue
reflects against my face.

The water was still and tranquil,
as if it were a turquoise blanket,
the finest silk, caressing
in gentle motions.

A sapphire sky
and amber sun lay above me,
watching me meticulously.
I felt at peace for once.

But it turns out
it’s all some sick facade.
And that once clear water
turned murky and ill-lit,
hitting me with unforeseeable waves.

I wanted to move my gaze away from the water,
but I couldn’t move at all.
I was paralyzed, trapped in my body,
forced to watch helplessly.

Darkness clouded the sky,
numbing my skin
painting it
a pale porcelain.

I faded into the water without protest,
Leaving myself to sink
underneath the howling waves,
plaguing my body and suffocating my mind.

Deeper and deeper I drop,
choking on salt,
breathing in tides,
and embracing the water.

Why?
Why anything?
Why is this world still racist?
Why?
Why is this world still sexist?
Why?
Why do people think that it’s okay to put someone down for joy?
Why?
Why can people believe that global warming isn’t a problem?
Why?
Why can’t people understand that this world has issues?
Why?
Why can’t people take time out of their lives to help those in need?
Honestly…Why anything?…

The fish swam in the light,
towards the frog who was smiling blissfully.
A chaotic war arose,
trapping them in a slippery aroma.
Smoke emerged when the two clashed,
covering the battlefield.
Emerging victorious, the frog ate the fish.
Waking up in a sweat,
the frog hopped to a cliff waiting for his next victim.

Sometimes when we rest I forget the sound
Of his voice and how it could fill a room
And next thing I know I wish to be drowned
In it complete with no sunlight to bloom

I can recall his mouth open and close
With forgotten words and forgotten tone
And suddenly the last of what’s heard goes
Left with nothing despite it being well-known

I turn to him, our waking eyes meet
Always seems to feel like the first time
I watch him move his head against the sheet
Listening close for his morning chime

With tired eyes, I’m told good-morning
And once again, I feel my love forming

“HUT!” he yells
and the army of men he commands
promptly shuffle their feet
and the royal leather
ends up at his service

with a movement
fluid as water
and yet powerful as a thunderbolt
the royal leather travels
the galaxy
and cuts through planets
like a knife slicing bread
in spinning rotations
like the propeller of an airplane

in reality it lasted 10 seconds
but it felt like 10 centuries
as the great journey ends
right in the hands
of the running back
and into the endzone

in reality it lasted 9 years
but it felt like 10 seconds
the fame got to his head
the prestige felt oppressive
the freedom was terrifying
the fighting was liberating
the drinks was electrifying
the drugs were everything
and he spiraled down
and down
and down
and down

today he tells his story
to future present and past journeyman alike
a story of what could have been
of what was
of what shouldn’t be
of what you should do
of examples and morals
a story about a perfect spiral

Listen
Here comes the tide
Rising, washing, up on the
shore.
Leaping over the boundaries
and the banks.

The sound of cries
A muffled song of long lost sailors
Hidden by the wind

A terrifying
Symphony.

Wind, sea, rain.
And the steady
Pound of the earth

Resisting

Against the waves.

Sure and steady as always
Ever drifting on.

We still survive the storm.

You’re not there
Haven’t got it yet
What happens?

Disappointment spawns
Frustration which spouts
Envy which spews
Anger and
Yet

That thing you need
So desperately

You just haven’t seen it
Yet

Not a complete thought
A whisper
An unfinished poem
Or a rushed plan or
A hurried idea

So far but so
Close.

Its
Untouchable

That thing
Something in the back of your mind
That thing that you can’t quite remember

That one word
That is perfect but
Indescribable

Completes the thought but not the
Process
Settles the game but doesn’t quite
End it.

Untouchable
You’ll never find it.
Its always just out of reach.

America, land of the rich and powerful.

Streets shattered, dilapidated, worn by corruption and false truths
Homes collapsing, education dwindling
Politicians wearing the sin of greed proudly

Light diluted by an unpleasant sight
Halls filled with lobbyists, keeping one goal in mind
Seen as collection of dolls bound to a corrupt puppeteer
One that cuts the string of life at the drop of the hat

A corporation whose dishonor knows no bounds, only driven by the root of all evil
A celebrity running black markets of immoral injustice
A politician, bought by the highest bidder

And many more nameless faces behind the scenes
Filling their endless pockets with green, objectors with lead
Never satisfied, like a rabid dog with endless hunger

Representatives of power, not the people.