WONDER IN WORDS

By: Autumn Skye Burton

These words, these stories, these fantasies, they speak to my very soul. Every perfectly inked letter on this vintage yellow page glitters with my curiosity. There is wisdom in your writing, a lesson to be learned, a secret to be uncovered, a story to be told. Captivated, I never leave a page unturned, or a word unread, or an idea unexplored. These words, they fill my mind. With ideas and wonders and feelings. I isolate my thoughts to only the writing within these crisp pages between my fingers. The ink holds its own aesthetic and power, your story holds its own meanings, the ending holds its own emotions. But oh, these words, they break my heart. When a hero dies. When a heart is broken. When justice goes unserved. These stories, they mend my soul, they teach my mind, they brighten my world. But oh, beware the power behind those words; there is always a secret they haven’t yet told.

You Can’t Control Me

by Skye Matheney

I tried to tell you. It was just a date,

a movie, late on a Saturday night.

He made me feel like I could fly, but you

came back as if I was still in your hands;

like I somehow belonged to you. Then why

do you tell me I can’t when I say I can?

You think I don’t, but I can see your noose,

I clearly see it hanging there. And if

I step onto your stage, would someone stop

and stare? I’m not a puppet on a string,

a remote-control plane. I will always be

the girl who’s left to cry out in the rain.

I’m not a damsel in distress, I don’t

need your help. I can do this on my own;

yes, I can save myself. I am not

a puppet on a string; you can’t control me.

 

 

FREEDOM

by Andrea McKinnie

 

There is a demon that stalks me

He  has stalked me from birth

He calls me by name

He tries to seduce me

I used to answer him freely

Now, I ignore him

I once thought he was friendly

Now I know that he is truly evil

I am sure that you have seen him

Some of you may be his victim too

His name is Obesity

He kills, steals, and destroys…

I decided to revoke his power in my life

I cannot, will not, allow him to control me

I am taking his keys away

Relinquishing him of his power

I am blocking his calls

Deactivating our friendship

He must be destroyed.

STORM

by Andrea McKinnie

 

RAINDROPS THAT FEEL LIKE DAGGERS FALL UPON MY HEAD

THEY’RE INVISIBLE, BUT PAINFUL.

 

I’M CHOSEN BY GOD

BUT I HAVE BEEN TARGETED BY THE DEVIL.

 

MY HEAD IS USED FOR DART PRACTICE;

ARROWS COME AT ME FROM ALL DIRECTIONS.

 

I’M FALLING, SINKING–

THERE IS A STORM INSIDE OF ME.

 

A STORM TOO STRONG FOR ME TO CONTROL-

A STORM TOO POWERFUL FOR A HUMAN TO UNDERSTAND.

 

EVEN THOUGH THIS POISONOUS RAIN KEEPS FALLING UPON ME AND

EVEN THOUGH THE THUNDER OF THIS STORM SHAKES ME UNTIL I CAN BARELY STAND

I WILL CONTINUE TO LIFT UP MY HANDS AND GIVE GOD THANKS

ALTHOUGH VOICES TELL ME I AM DOOMED

AND VOICES SAY THAT THIS STORM CANNOT BE SURVIVED

I BELIEVE THAT GOD WILL SAVE ME FROM THIS STORM

SEARCHING

by Andrea McKinnie

 

Sharp arrows implore me

You want to restore me

 

I’m Bleeding internally

 

My pain’s visibility is Incognito

it is hidden in the drug

that I am addicted to.

 

I am screaming inside

God, can you hear me

This pressure is too much

I just want to be free…

 

Tidal waves of fury,

hurricanes of disappointment

This deluge overpowers me

and I cannot get up.

 

I know that God is real,

but I am struggling to find the path

to a brighter day.

IN DEFENSE OF MAN

by Jasmine Williams

 

Your honor, please let me bring the defenses argument.

 

I am the last person who should stand here today and tell you to save them

To spare them from the horrible hell you have already decided for them

But, I want to bring one piece to the table, one argument.

I will not waste mine or your time.

I will make things brief.

You have forsaken Man for all the they have done.

I know the things that goes on in their heads.

The murder, raping, the poverty the waiting.

They started with so much potential and we both watched as their glimmer faded.

They take pride in the wrong they do, the kill true beauty and smile at the job.

They taint all that they have touched like a rose that wilts after you hold it too long.

They do not hold the rose they pluck it and demand that it smells.

Then after all its uses are gone, Man then cries asking what went wrong.

They are petty and inpatient, dirty and smell. They kill everything

From land, to sea, to themselves. Inside and out.

They are horrible beings and, honestly, I agreed with you.

But, we fathered them both of us, and I have one thing to say before you take them away.

They have disease and sickness and lust, greed, envy and anger and mean.

They have no redeeming qualities at least that is what you believe…

Have you ever seen the face of a mother with her young, day old?

The smiles of children in the park, in the yards.

The way a young man falls for his love.

The gentle breathes that sing in syce.

The way of two heartbeats.

All the hair fading from a child’s head. Uniting all to fight for them.

The gentle hands that hold other close.

The comfort of a friend or a lover or both possibly.

The singing of songs that no one knows.

The car rides and walks to places familiar or unknown.

The seeing of misery and some, not all, see this as a thing that must be fought.

The way of someone working hard for what they want.

The words of a poem that finally becomes more then a thought.

I know there is bad, I am like you after all, but I see that Man.

Might have a chance after this.

So you can take them and doom them know. Or let them try.

Let them grow and take the warning not as lightly.

Let them know of their stance and see if they improve.

At least that is what the defense brings to you.

 

Thank you.

OH SAY CAN YOU SEE

by Jasmine Williams

 

Oh, say can you see by the land of the free? Except for you…

 

My great-grandma came on a ship named for a flower and started a new life

In the shadows of all the people that was here long before she was dreamed of

She carried all the load that she could, she bowered off the people that she could.

She saw all the disease rid the Natives, and still tall, she stood.

My great-grandma had a whole bunch of children, some died, and some lived

And that’s where her story ends.

My granddad, he grew and conquered the land, and the fields he worked and soon many said

“You will never be more than an whore immigrants son”

He worked and earned some respect, he stayed and bowered his time

He told his own son, “There will be a time soon that comes, never for forget you are an immigrant’s son”

My dad he fought, and he killed for the notion of a nation he wants to build

He thinks back on what his father told him

Now looking at the darker immigrants that fight side by side with him.

He ran onto the battlefield. He won war with them.

He promised that one says he would. Work with them as equals and friends.

He did not forget the immigrant’s son.

Years later, my aunt was starving with children, the potatoes were rotting.

She promised that the land of the free would take her in, clothe her, feed her.

She was turned away, laughed and mocked, from other seamstress that said that she

Could be one of them, she was just an immigrant.

So, they travelled to the mountains west. Appalachian. And there she told the young.

“Never forget the immigrants young.”

My cousin was a German in the time of war time. In the country that was looking to Europe.

Saw the Germans and told her to kick it. My cousin. Had a family and husband.

Lived her since she was a young one. She told her children this.

“Never forget the immigrant mom.”

Across town, just one year later. My best friend got moved to camp.

In Arkansas. He was mocked and underfed. He was always American.

But his parents weren’t. So, he waited and got out and told his friends.

“Never forget the immigrant men.”

All my family, friends and their kids, all grew and become more than just an “immigrant.”

Became lawyers, senators, and presidents. They started from an immigrant’s womb.

Now my sister she walks over a river. And my brother, crosses the ocean.

They eat food, old or moldy, overcrowded resting rooms.

They come here much like great-grandma, they know they might not belong.

But they are ready to come and stand tall.

And they will tell their kids, “Immigrants is not a bad word.”

They come and never taste freedom, they come in masses like Lady Liberty says

They were weak and poor, free of their homeland.

Immigrants is not a bad word.

My sister she gets sent home, she gets raped, she gets beat and pregnant.

With a diablos child, she starts walking. Up north again saying.

“Immigrant is not a bad word.”

My brother, he made it longer, worked in the dark for farmers, come in those pennies.

He saved up, did not buy a house, instead became an American!

He hears people say, “They take the jobs.” “They need to go home” that “They are whats wrong”

He shouts, “Never forget the immigrants mom, the immigrant young, the immigrant man.”

“Immigrant is not a bad word!”

So, immigrant, they come, immigrant, in masses, like those before.

“Never forget the immigrants you came from.”

WAKE UP

by Jasmine Williams

 

Can we take thanks for the things that we think

Original and unique never before thought

Then we have them and gone, out of reach

Once more and now you start to become awake

We se the stars long dead and gone still shine

And se we will join them one day

The matter of us is the matter of all

And it’s a matter of time before you start to

Wake up

We yell at time and distance and space

Of lost days that have gone away but

The question must be asked

We exist and are, but no stars see time or distance or space

The star sees just existing now and now

And so, shouldn’t we? Join the stars early?
and this is when you wake up early

Before you are too decided to walk

To join the stars now before you become dust

Dust that will just become part of it all again

Join it early and wake up

ORGANS

by Jasmine Williams

 

She lays a black lace on her head and I know

That today is the day that I die

Its already decided and done

And the people come in and out of the steeple

Some laugh with a cigarette’s hanging out of their mouths

And I, I hate the organ so much

So much, the organ will destroy my soul

With its patience keys

I hate the organ

The common sit and gather around

I’m ready for my final show

They play the music I never liked

And they snicker when they hear the songs

The man that I have never met

Talks about me like I was his own

And everyone laughs when he says

That I was just young and innocent and dumb

I wish I truly wish I was just that

I hate organ so much

The organ destroys my soul

With its patience keys and I know

That today is the day I die

I hate the organ so much

The organ destroys my soul

It kills its patience keys

I know that today is the die that I die

Oh, I hate the organ

The organ destroys me with its patient keys

Today is the day that I die.

PARKING LOT

by Jasmine WIlliams

 

Just imagine me sitting

On my car hood

Looking at the road

Gonne flip a coin

Imagine me thinking about the word

I will never say in song

and there you are

in a parking lot too, looking back

and seeing me

Imagine you driving all alone and then you

Just drive away

and you drive away

And you drive

Imagine me looking back at you

Going to wish I could follow and

Imagine me pleading that some how

you see me and turn around oh but

You and your pals had a great night planned

Better flip that coin and see when mine will end

Imagine you looking back and seeing the news alert

and thinking “I just drove away”

you just drove away

and you drove away

you did not look back and you drove away