Mosaic_S_1997.xml
Media
Part of The Mosaic: Spring 1997
content
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This is where I'm supposed to tell you what a wonderful book this is and how much
hard work went into its making and all that. Well
..
.. .I think you can get a pretty good idea of all that
by just looking through it and without the ''Blah,blah,blah
.
" Come to think of it why do I even need
to write this letter, you
'
ve already picked our book up. Probably with the intention of reading it
(unless you need more kindling when the dorm heaters break down), so your all set to go
.
Get your
eyes full and send us some stuff next semester
.
P.S
.
In case you were all wondering
,
there
'
s actually a
reason
behind the title this semester. While
we were working on the various poems and stories here in this book we tried to apply different fonts
to them, fonts that fit the mood of the work (COOL)
.
Unfortunately, almost all the good fonts had a
tendency to scatter the writing all over the page (NOT COOL)
.
So due to the ''Broken Fonts" there
is little to see in eye-pleasing letters
,
but the title's great!
P.P.S
.
If any of you put this book down due to our lack of cool fonts I have been authorized to set
lose the C-7 attack walruss on you
.
Be warned.
Chief Editor
Kelly Nagy
Our Computer Expert
Jeffery Novakouski
Editors
Susan Goodwin
Lauren Collins
David Wasilewski
Meghan Sloan
Eric Dahlen
Jeannine Burrus
Jeffery Novakouski
Tara Sullivan
Ellen Kalaus
Ouga, the monkey
President of the Literary Arts Society
:3
ason
Lf'aM \ \
(Couldn't have done it without him!)
TABt! OF CONT!NT5
STUFF
Cover (Just in case you missed it)
The President's
"Blah,blah,blah."
The Table of Contents
WRITING
Barbie and Ken, by Michael G. Cassidy
The Song, by Amanda Garrison
Scars and Knight's Question, both by Kevin Mewhiney
Birth Cry, by Kevin Mewhiney
Untitled, by Colleen Maloney
Self, by Patricia
A.
Corley
Untitled, by Kari
Ann
Andreasen
The Same Streets are Different on Sunday Night, by Ted Millar
Garbage Day and Revenge, both by Mandy Parrillo
Untitled, by Jeannine Burrus
Obsession, by Tanya Klein
Wounded Excursions Through Space, by Joseph Laposta
Looking Skyward, by Joseph Laposta
Fractured Dream Plain, by Joseph Laposta
Unpleasant Slogans, by Sonya Mello
A Special Friend, by Charlotte Partridge
The Gate, by Adam Weissman
Time, by Amy Rys
Untitled, by Aimee Marie Drayer
Newsong, by Sonya Mello
Release, by Jeff Novakouski
ARTWORK AND PHOTOGRAPHS
Broken Fonts (Cover Art), by Jeannine Burrus
Untitled, by Meghan Sloan
The Little Girl, a photograph by Kelly Nagy
The Path, by Susan Goodwin
The Island, By Jeannine Burrus
The Dragon, by Susan Goodwin
Untitled, by Emily
The Metal Bird, Jeannine Burrus
The Eifle Tower, a photograph by Kelly Nagy
The Face, by Susan Goodwin
Page 0
Page 1
Page 2 (DUH!)
Page 4
Page 5
Page 6
Page 8
Page 8
Page 9-10
Page 11
Page 12-13
Page 14
Page 15
Page 15
Page 16
Page 16
Page 17
Page 17
Page 18-19
Page 20
Page 21
Page 21
Page 23
Page 24
Page 0
Page 3
Page4
Page 6
Page 7
Page 8
Page 10
Page 19
Page 21
Page 22
I
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·
.
the song
by Amanda Garrison
once I heard a song floating on a breeze
and I reached out into the sky
and closed my fist around it
and as I walked I could hear the melody
the words echoed and bounced around
as if inside a vast and hollow canyon
and I was happy with my song
I kept
it
with me like a good-luck charm
I played it over and over
and soon I could hum along with the melody
and I could sing the words
and I filled the emptiness with all of myself
the notes formed a wall around me
an impenetrable barrier
and I was tucked safely inside
hidden away from danger
one day when I was walking, I tripped over a stone
and my fist opened
and my song flew away
I sat on the ground and listened
but I heard nothing
I tried to sing it to get it to come back
but I couldn't remember how
and my barrier of notes and words
crumbled in dust around me
and all I could hear was the pounding of my heart
echoing and bouncing around
as if inside a vast and hollow canyon
5
ScaRs: Ja--oeo Opcnnism paRc 4
Wbg in pain
An--o miseRg
Does 1nsp1Rauon
Cake bol--o o.,= me"?
Cime co beal
Cime co 5Row
peRbaps in veRse
Cbis all will sbow.
Rbgmes somecimes
broe
a ceRRJble case
.J:0Rc1n5 RemernbRance
O.,= all cbac was lose
Cbis woRk
we all --oo
Co live a5a1n
Wben
we pnisb oaR joaRneg
Is a poem, nae an en--o.
Kevin mewbineg
6
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bi1<cb C1<g: JAnet> Opom1sm pARc
6
CoWARns mg new be51nn1n5
R15bc AWAg
I
masc sec oac
YeA1<n1n5 .J=0R 1<eb11<cb
bow n1,1:,1:e1<enc I Am now
AJ:1<A1n soll . . . somewbA c
ReA"t)g
co
move .J=0RWAR"t)
'Oon'c WAY.Jc co be beln "t)OWn
lon51n5 .J=0R comoRRows
I
nee:o mg soal co 51<ow
V1cAl 1,1: 1 Am co 50 on
eve1<mo1<e
WbAc bAppeneo 1s now pAsseo
encompAsseo mg whole wo1<ln
leARneo bARn .J=Rom cbe oaccome
le,1:c cbe
pA1n .J=AR beb1nn
Kevin mewb1neg
So--
t"l.¥ed✓•
S l e e p ~ [A'\lon,
me;.
I
wcuit"'to--g,i>ve--[A'\l'to--u¥hcthit:
~
blctc1v
thief
who-
f t ~ ~
d , v ~
wn.e,v\,t
£he;
curu"'wt1 c1oclv
~
off
~
U \ A I ~
vocl<4,,~ lay¥orv
~
e y ~
Now u
w
~
't~t"l.Al\ft 'to-- g,i>ve--
(,¥v.
It'
w
now
I
CtM1I
~
v~ethw,
~ ~ c a w
ha>ve--
hwr
w~ w
i.iv
me;.
So--
I
g,i>ve--
[ A ' \ ! ~
u
w
~
~-
Now
~
life,
C t ¥ ~
wt£!
d-vow
~
[A'\!
pv~er¥
~ £ h e ;
v ~
o f ~
wetAl.!that- w
L e f t ~
-ColleewMCUOfU0'
R:ltriciaA.
Cl:r~
Cl:rrprre
and
crnb:ast
}O..IrSelf.
I can rot think of
arwthmJ
that CIJJld l::e h:m:Er. B.lt I
oo:::idrl to cb
this
P:lP2J'.'
~
I
hid
al1'.Eedy-
startErl
the
resamh.
~
rard:st
P3rt
v\6S
d:scribin:Jrrv
actu3.l
rel£.
l'Ctual Self -
Wu am I?
In
terns of in::q:arlnt
or
~ t
i;:ers::nality, I am
a ~ t .
In
terns of a
la:rl:!r
or
a foJ.Jo.er, I an a la:rl:!r. I cb kn::wrne thir:g a1::rutn¥:E].f, I
d:n'
t
like
n¥:Elf, rut
I can livewithn¥:E].f, lH.Elly.
It
EB:Irs
like
~
is
wdtin:J
hrks
a1::rut
~
tcdly,
articles
sayin:J WB.t it
is
like to l::e
a
teEn. 'IlEy
fEEl
th3.t
tlEy
si;:eak
far
eveI'.}Ue.
I hate re:ple
wo
g:JE@lize like that. Yrn can mly
si;:eak
far
:',,O.llJ:Elf
andm
me
else.
Yrn
are
mly
}OJ,
rtt
an
Entire generatim.
lbv
can
they
p::ssible krov h:J.v
ever}Ole
rrv
age
fEEls???
ve
are
mt
c:1ae;,
we
are
mt all like
03d1
ot:1Er.
ve
are
re:ple, individ.lal.s.
ve
have
thin:Js
in
CDlITOl,
and
we
have
thirg3
that
we
hate
aJ:x:ut
Efldl other.
W"E.t
tln3e
thin:Js
are differ fran
{Er3:I1
to
{ErB:Il.
B.lt
I digre3S,
this
v\6S
ffiw:s=rl
to l::e
al::rut rre, me
{ErB:Il,
rrt a rant aglli)St idicts, al1:lntj1 I will prd:::abl y
<bit
00\leral
tirrEs
inl'Ere.
IU;pey,
I anrneP2UD1. I an20'),e3YSOld. I hate the terrng31X, I
like
the
terrnchildof
the
80's. B.lt that's just a
label.
Ever}ale
taJks
atcut
1al:Bls
t:lES3 days
andh:J.vi,.,e slnlldl::e cmeful atcutrot usin:J
then,
tut i,.,e still use
then
in
e,er}tlly
anversatim.
H:ls
am-me
reali:ze::i that arr narre
is
a latel? 'Tuat arr
pm:nts
n.irre:i
us
b-cai
ise
of h:J.vi,.,e
act
or
la:ks::l.
like. I kn::w of a Eriaxl.
wo
is
CElled
by
his
nid<nare,
W'lich
is
a
real
rare,
l::a:ause
d.IrinJ
his
first
WEl<. of CDlIBJ2
rors::ne
said that
he
laN:rl like a P2UD1 with that nare.
l\rrl
it stuck! !
Can
thin:Js
93t
any
sb.Jpicer:???
Wat
is
the
tn:int of life? Ch.lld
s::rre
me plEaSe
explam
that to rre? I
SEffi\
to have
misse::1 the lx:at as
tlEy
say.
Iwm.t isolatim, withmaE arrur:rlrre.
:tvE
ina cabin in the....a::ds, just nature andrrewithmi,crries. Yet s:x::iety
Jo::ks
<h.rl.
i..p:n
r;:a:ple like
this
and
say
that
they
are
mt crntril:u
t
in:J to s:x::iety.
Exo..193
rre, tut WB.t
has
s:x::iety
d:ne
:far:-rre lately???? I snilch'tpickms:x:iety
, if it
W:lffi
' t
far-
tl:an,
I:i:;:n:d:a::J
ly
Wllldl'tl::eme,
rut
still.
8:x::iety
is
rressed.
.
WD millyV1611tS to live ina \\Ol'."ld
like this
. D::a
th, kill.irg3,
ITlll'.l:El'.'
,
rai;:e
,
wrr,
strife
,
star:vat.im,
as:.ac.E
:irat.im.s.
G:x::dold}cllcwjOJIJ131.i:m, mlyrep::rt WB.t will catch there:ple
'
s ~ .
rut
wo
can.blare j
rnmalisn.
It
is
s:x:iety that
wmts to
see
such ~
.
.And
we
are
s::ciety r;:a:ple
.
ve
are
wiy
~
are
the
w,y
that
they
are.
ve
ha
ve m
me
to
blarretu
t
c:urselves.
B
lamin:J
the
gqynext
to us
d::es m
gxd
,
ruz
e..ien
tually the
b
lare
g::es
full
circle.
l\rrl wiat
has
~ .
mt:h:in:J,
just passin:J blare
.
N)
aE fixes
the
pablan, just fixes
the
blarre m
s::rre
me.
s::ciety
is
uµEt
with
AJI6
arrl the other dise3S2S tlat i,.,e are havID] t:mble ki
ll
:in;r. I
::re
it as natl.ll'.e3'
w,y
of
PJ[1ish:ir:g
us.
ve
are
cestrcy
-
irg
this
plartt.
Yrn
are
prd:::ably
say:in;J",
d1.
::.,arr
just
say:in;r
that,
and
if
}OJ
g:)t
AIIB,
}OJ'
d wmt a rnre,
or
if
s::ne:ne
clcse
to }OJ.
g:J.:
it. . .
I f
I
g:J.:
AIIB
or
s::rre
otlEr
dise3se, d1. ¼el
l
.
Pe:h:e
the
p::pJ].at:.irn.
of the pl.arEt. If
rors::ne
clcse to rre
die3,
:'l,e3
it
tarrs a
role
inrrv
h:art. It
h.rrts
l:irehill, arrl I
dn'
t milly
ao::.t:p:;
it,
rut
v-.e
are livmJW"at
is
CEllEd life,
arrl
d:a.th
is
at
tre
ax1
cf life. D::ath
is
tre
t::dp
c£. a life
tire,
tlHe
is
ro
ot:rEr" Ertl
.
8:Jrt
of like a rne
¼l:l}T
ticka: !
B.lt
sutjh
aJ:x:ut
s::ciety, lets f:irrl
s:neth:inJ
else
torrurble atcut
.
Is
t:rere
arwthmJ
else
to re:illy
talk
ab:ut?
Everythin;J-
le3ds
back
to s:x::iety.
Everythjn;;J
we
cb
is
dictated
by
s:x::iety in aE form
or
arcther
.
Yrn
rray say
that
}OJ
are g::iin:J against s:x::iety, tut
ratarl::er
that s:x::iety
is
ever-i,rne,
ro }OJ. are
~
or
cbin:J
s::rrethin:J
with
s::ne:ne
s:ns-here. (Yes, I am
i3',\0]'."8
that I an gaEralizin:J atcut s::ciety l'Ere.
81..e
rre!)
If
}OJ.
wmt to 93t re:illypic:ky }OJ. can
say
that
mth.inJ
is
agllilSt s::ciety and
rothir:g
is
far s:ciety. S:irr:E
ro:::i.ety
is
:rroce
LP of all of us, and
we
all
have
differa1.t
c:p:inims
m everythinJ,
v-.e
will all
disa:]rEe
m
everythjn:J
that
arres
i.p.
'Illere
is
mthin:J
that I can think of that
ocrra:ne
s:::rrs,.nere\\Ulldmt agn:ewith, if mlytol::e
the
ml
y
rne
tocbro.
R=q)le have crnpla:irro to rre that WB.t I wdte
is
d:pressin:J. "\'ell
guess
WB.t guys, life
is
d:press:in;J".
'This
is
rqyrel£.
'This
is
rre. Life
is
rrt alW:JYS
S1l1S1irE
arrl
fJoers. Life
is
rrore likely to
kick
}OJ. in the ass. B.lt
this
~
rrv
reality.
D:n'
t
v.orry
if
}Q.IrS
d::Em' t rratchrnirn, isn't rot
SLg;:CS::rl.
Yrn
are
mt rre.
.And
thank g::rl,
I an rot
}OJ.
WD vruld
like to l::e l i k e ~
elre?
'llEre
is
mth.inJ
in that. I wm.t to l::e l i k e ~
else.
I wmt to l::e
rre. I
wmt
to
1::e
like::l.. I
d:n'
t care WB.t
otles
think
of rre.
D:es
this
s::und
crnfus:in;r to }OJ.?
I-bN
cb }OJ.
think
it
fEels to l::e the aE
~
it?
W-W
cb:sn' t life rrakEs
SEnse,
rut
t:h:n agrin,
wu
ever said
tra.t life
v\6S
~
to
rrake
9:?19a.
I
d:n' t
rarerter
that
l::ein:J
in the
crntract, tut t:h:n
a:Jilll,
I
d:n'
t
think I
rm:3.
it
tro carefully l::efare I sigrej
t
9
I ~
if
an;yaE
\\0..1ld
re:rl
this
if
trey dich'
t
a1.m:il;y
krO!rre.
If
trey did, w:uld
they
say
that
I
an a
voiCE
of
ITV gB'El'.a.tim?
Wiy
cb µqile cb that? FUttin:J µqile
rn.
su::h
a ~ t a l ?
au
re:illy'v-.0!1.ts that resp::nsiliility.
B.lt
'yO.l
d:n'
t ask,
'yO.l
just cb. Ib
'yO.l
re:ilize
the
~
of
}O.lr
actirn.s?
Ib
'yO.l
care
ab::ut
the
Cil1S€QLlEI1CES
of
}O.lr
actims?
I'm
sure that
'yO.l
care
ab::ut
the :imre:li.ate,
and
rrmbe
s::rre
of
the
kn:J
tean ~ ,
rut cb
'yO.l
ever re:illy
take
ever:ythmJ
into ao:n.mt? llbs:::>lutely
ever:ythmJ
that
a:uld p:::ssilily hclg;:ai?
I f
'yO.l
said
:i,es,
tl:a1.
'yO.l
rrust
te
a crnp.iter.
Yru
can't p:::ssilily
crnp:;nsate
for
everythin:J
that
'yO.l
cb.
If
'yO.l
try,
tl:a1.
}OJ
v-.este
}O.lr
tirre
and
}O.lr
life.
Cb fcn:wrd, lrave
th:Ee
CEhirrl
wn
can't
crnp:;nsate,
they
are
rot
rB:Jdy
tote, to
live. Life's a bitch and
clr¥D2
wn
tells
}OJ
ct:lErw.ire
is lyin; or
tiy:in:J
to
921.l
:P-1
s:net:h:iil].
H:w
tnE
this
is.
&rrvival
of
the fittffit
.
~
1.amm
this
ing3E@l
bio. It
wsd
tote
the
SJI:Vival
c£ thepw.3irnl fittest.
NJ.v
it
S:Ers
tote
a
SJI:Vival
c£ the
srartest fittffit,
and
the
Willet
fittest.
'Ire \\0llet
will ~t
:Pl
farther
than
}O.lrrrrindrrcst
brres
tlo..tj"l.
s::rret:h:in;J
is wr:rn:JW"lffi a
rera:n.
can't cb
s::rret:h:mJ
with
their
life that
they
are Ilffil1t
to
cb
because
they
can
'
t afford
to
and
there
are µqile
wn
have
ro
rruch
rrrney that
they
d:n
'
t krO/v-ibat
to
cb
with
it all
.
OJr
priorities as
huran
~
nesrl
rore
w:n:k.
Fl:3:ple oft:En raranticize ab::ut
the :i;:est and
luv
i
t w:md
be
like
to
live
in
differrnt eras. I
think that I w::uld like
to
g:J
l:ff:k
to
tefore the
cr:ro:pt
of
lam.
startEd.
'IlEre eJel'.:rO"E
'\<.0S
free.
w:nai
\\Ere
rot
c:wm
byrran,
and
for
the nest
put,
ever'y01e \\08
free
to
cb
and be
as
they
plrese.
NxE
of
the
rultural
bias that are
with
us
ta:syw::uld
exist
b3ck
thal.
Life
v..as
rot
i;:erfect
by
anyrreans,
bJt the grass
is
grEHEr
rn.
the
otlEr
sire. I think that I
a:uld
d::ial
with
an early
daath
to
have
the
froo:bn
of
rot
bemJ
o,,rro
by
clr¥D2
and
rot
have
beinJ
resp::nsilile
to
ar¥I]e
rut
myself
and
tlose
ammd
rre.
BJt
in
a
vey,
that
is hJ..l it is
ta:l3y,
exp2Ct
v..e
alro
have
all
of tie£
exp2Ctatims
pilerl
up::n
us that
v..e
rrust
d::ial
with.
D3:ilin_J
with
t:h:se
exr;:e:::tatims
is w-at
kills
rre.
NJt
ra::ESSaril
y the
exr;:e:::tatims
of
ITV fanily,
bJt alro
t:h::re
of
s::ciety. I sl.uJ.ld atta'ld
mll0J3,
and I sl.uJ.ld find a jcb,
and
I sl.uJ.ld eamrruchrrrney,
and
I SD..lld
axk
and Cl03fl, and
te
d:rrest:ic,
and
have
2. 5
dlildrm,
a cat,
and
a
d:g.
I sl:n.lld
te
the me
to
take care
of
the
dlildrm. I
s1n.1ld
have
dri.ldra1
Olly
after
teiTIJ
rrarrie::i.
I
sJ:n.1ld
rtt
try
to
take
crnt.rol
at
-w::irk
and te
a
IB3(EJ'.",
I sl:n.lld rtt
te
a bitch.
W1at if I
d:n' t
\\0I1t
to
folla,..,
t::rES2 t:h:in;Js? W1at if I d:n'
t
like
than?
'IhEn
I an CEViant.
Tl:ymJ
to
be
s::rre
-
t:hinJ
tlat I anrtt.
I£in;:J
''1.JU)it:y'',
rtt
stayjn;J
inrrvplace.
BJt
w-at
is
ITVplace.
If
all
thinJS
¼el'.e
e:;JU31,
i.,,,ra.t
is
rrvplace
in
life?
BJt
thinJS
are
rot
Eq.£1,
and
WEre
fuil.d I starrl, the
left, the
riqlt, themid::il.e,
dJ
I care?
If
I
d:n'
t,
fun
I
d:n'
t
have
the
right
to
cnrplain.
WEre is
the
:rebml
a:nter for life? I
\\0I1t
to
rrake
an
exdlaa;ie.
W:at cb
}OJ
IlffiI1
there
is
ro
return CH'lter?? I
can't
rrake
an
exd1an:Je
! !
?
!
??
au
rrade
up
these
rules?? I want
to
sp:xlk
to
s::rre:::ne
in
d1arge
lEre.
W"D
is
in
dlarge
lEre?
Sp?ak
up!
¼here
are 'y0.1???
10
Q!lone in pabbeb pink satin
:3 bie an insane fate
6enses acute but bread) long lost
Dlfactort) ot,erf[oros roit9 becat)
<morms bigest fro3en f[es9
i9e serpent anb t9e saint
Q! ferocious battle
CJJlt) soul,
a
roinner' s pri3e
CJJlt) cool roit9ereb corpse
:3nfinite slumber in eternal isolation
<marmt9 anb breat9 suc9 bfoinitt)
i9is roorn bobt) 9as bleb au
11
12
THE SAME STREETS ARE
DIFFERENT ON SUNDAY NIGHT
by Ted Millar
Moon-day; before the light swims to the
candle-dust, we arise to meet the street.
Dark and cold. (It may be warm),
but we don't know the difference,
because we have to clasp our
shackels closed again
.
The feeling of swollen-head, and
coffee tranquility overcomes us-
The end is near.
Day #Tue; The same thing-(Willie Dixon).
It's the caffeine stop of weeping trees
in November. Some days it's cold,
some days it's not-but we're
feeling old
today.
We stop to wonder why everyday,
but we don't have time to stop today.
The end is near.
Hump-day; The hill has risen. We're
feeling a little better about
ourselves ... the coffee tastes better.
We talk about the day of fools
with our friends who won't be
in three days. We're all competing
for the same soil-to get our
hands dirty to show our wives
to show our kids
to show who wins
to sharpen our knives.
Thursday; with the hump-day behind us,
we can think about discarding
the caffeine and red die in
our veins--a new poison
to forget we' re human and hated.
Fools' Day; Finish quickly! The streets
are a-glow and everyone is
ready to go. We don our
masks.
The hour to be happy awaits
the longest day of the year.
It's a rush-
It's a race!
Sell-yourself Day; Sleep late-
Eat the dirt from under
your feet and the
sand from your soul.
Excedrin for the head-
Swallow it with tranquility.
(somehow it tastes better,
but a little bland, though.)
A shower to meet Cloe,
A new pair of boots.
Going to do it again ... only better.
"Maybe we'll get some here."
The pigs seem to thrive on
the fat of the land.
While all this time, still
wearing our masks.
Sun-day; It isn't. It's supposed to be, isn't it?
You can't find your hand in
the snow!! And you can't find Cloe.
She woke up next to you.
Somehow, the streets look different.
The same people, zombie's,
the same light, somehow, dimmer.
It's funny how the sun plays
tricks on you.
Last night the moon was your
friend, but you hope the "sun"
never sets--you're a zombie too.
The same streets are different on Sunday
night.. ...
13
14
Garbage Day
I took my silly brother,
and stuffed him in a can.
Set the can upon the curb,
for the garbage man.
The man threw him in the truck,
it crunched and squashed and strained.
I'm so afraid the garbage truck,
will never be the same.
Mandy Pardl/o
••••••
•••••••••••
·-.·❖-•·-.······
·······
········.:·-:
••••••••• ••••••••
••••••••••
•••••• •
•
•• •
...
•
•
• •• • ••
•
•
•
•
••••••
• ••• -~
• •••••••• •••••
•
•
•
••
•
••
•
••••••
Revenge
Bobs little sister had a favorite doll,
her hair was golden yellow.
Bob ripped off the arms and smashed
the head - he was a nasty fellow.
His sister cried and swore revenge
,
Bob wasn't even ashamed.
But as he rode his bike down the hill,
''my brakes are gone, "he proclaimed.
Mandy Parrillo
Obsession
bv Tanva Klein
De first time I saw vou , I looked into vour eves.
I knew that vou were special -I didn't believe
the lies.
I watch all vour actions. And I Hsten to vour everv word.
I have a secret obsession -
if
onlv I could be heard.
You're alwavs in mv thoughts. You're alwavs in
mvdreams.
Please give me a chance -Things aren't alwavs
as thev seem.
,
So what makes me love vou? The reason I can't
auitefind.
But from the moment I saw vou -You'Ve alwavs
been on mv mind.
Mv love is hidden deep, And mv pain is kePI inside.
MV feelings are forever -Because thev never will subside.
WIii vou ever reallze? WIii vou ever see?
I iust want to tell vou -
You'll alwavs be a part of ma.
15
16
WOUNDED EXCURSIONS n-lROUGH SPACE
WOUNDED ANO WARPED
MY FRIEND IN AND Of TIME
GONE FOR NOW,
TEMPORARY INSANffY
SHS WffHIN MY MIND,
HIS SHARP BARBS PIERCE
NW
SOUL
SOUL?
WHAf A JOKE!
NOT ACKNOWLEDGING UMrrs
UNBOUND,
GIVE ALL
ASK No·r,
ONWARD,
NO UMrrA·noNS TO HINDER,
B;.\DLANDS BECKON,
Ui'ffOLD TRAGEDIES
UNFOLD INTO SPACE,
-JOSEPH LAPOSTA
LOOKING SKYWARD
AS I LOOK TO nu SKY
I SEE
n-lAf I AM A LUCKY MAN,
All n-lAT I HAVE
YH I DO NOT COMPREHEND WHAT I HAVE,
AS I LOOK INTO nu SKY
MY VISION BLURRED
MY TEARS DO NOT KNOW WHY,
WHY MY SOUL
WAS lEfl 'TO DIE,
SO l CRY,
AS I CRY
I FEEL nu COLD RAIN
POURING DOWN UPON ME,
rr IS AS If HEAVEN rrsnf lS CRYING
wrn-1 Mt
-JOSEPH LAPOSTA
FRACfUR.ED DREAM PlAlN
l HAVE NO MORE DREAMS
"fHEY ARE NOW PAs·r EX"flNCflON
NlGH"fMARES ARE ALL ·rHA·r R.EMAlN
FRACfURED DREAMS FLOAf BY MY EYES,
·rHE REMAlNlNG FEW FADE lN"fO OBUVlON,
DREAMS OF HOPE AND DESlRE FLOAf OU"f OF REACH
EXPLOSIONS RlNG lN MY AfMOSPHERE
FEAR GRlPS MY ·rHROAf
AN l RON GRASP MEAN"f ·ro s·n FLE
A CRY "fEARS rrsELF FREE OF "fHE VlCE.
BU"f "fHE CRY DlES BEFORE rr REACHES ANYONE'S EARS
A PLEA NEVER "fO BE HEARD,
THE SHARDS OF
nu
SHAffERED DREAMS PIERCE
AND "fHE WOUNDS BECOME MORE INFECfED,
nu
SHARP REMNAN"fS
"
fEAR MYSELF FROM MYSELF
MY SOUL SOURED BY
nu
APPARrflONS
ONE BY ONE MY DREAMS SHATfER.
n-lEN
nu
PlECES OF WHAf COULD BE
DISAPPEAR AND FADE FROM ME.
-JOSEPH LAPos·rA
Unpleasant Slogans
Do not tease me
with a foolish grin.
your plastic
visage
plasters
billboards
on every
imaginable
highway
I
travel
False
Advertisements
amuse me
not
-Sonya Mello
17
Charlotte Partridge
A SPECIAL FRIEND
Megan is sad today. Her mother knows why Megan is sad because she is sad too
.
They
are not sad because it is raining or because they couldn't get a puppy as a pet. They are sad
for a different reason. Megan had a special friend named Maureen. She liked to call her
"Bobbi-Maureen" just for fun. Bobbi-Maureen had curly, white hair which was different then
Megan's straight, brown hair. Maureen and Megan got along well despite their age difference.
They played games together and told each other stories
.
Since Maureen was with Megan
when Megan
'
s mother was at night meetings, they got to do things that Megan was normally
not allowed to do
.
Maureen braided Megan's hair and Megan tried to braid Maureen's. They
ate chocolate and watched game shows on
TV.
Megan stayed up way past her bedtime. Megan
loved her t
i
me with Bobbi-Maureen. Maureen loved her time with Megan too
.
But Maureen
knew this precious time would end eventually. One night
,
Bobbi-Maureen was not able to
baby-sit. Megan's mother said that she was sick , but that they could visit her in the hospital.
Megan had never been in a hospital before and was nervous. The decided to go on a sunny
,
Saturday afternoon. Megan dressed in her favorite pink dress with the ruffled sleeves. Her
mother wore her blue skirt and white blouse. Megan's mom explained that the hospital is not
really a scary place. "It is where people like Maureen get help when their hearts are not
strong enough to work by themselves.
"
Megan did not know what to expect. They pulled up to
a large, white cement building. Megan's mom said, "Here we are." They walked to the front
desk which to Megan looked like the secretary's desk at her mother's office. "Hello," said the
secretary
.
"Hello,
"
said Megan's mother. Megan shyly hid behind her mother's leg
.
"What a
pretty dress!" said the secretary to Megan
.
Megan's mom always taught her to be polite, so
she said, "Thank you," and smiled quietly. They got a pass from the secretary and directions
to Maureen's room
.
They walked down many long, white hallways
.
Megan saw things that she
never saw before. She saw so many doctors and nurses scurrying about
.
She saw patients
sleeping on beds with pillows to prop them up and she saw a HUGE cafeteria filled with food
and people. But they kept walking until they came to room 416 in the C wing of St. Mark's
Hospital. "Hi Maureen," said Megan's mother as they slowly entered the dimly lit, rose colored
room. Megan crept in holding on to her mother
'
s skirt unsure if she would recognize her great
friend. "Hi," replied Maureen in a whisper
.
Maureen was in one of those special beds Megan
saw other patients in. She looked the same, but had some tubes in her hand which Megan's
mom later explained was medicine to keep her healthy. Megan gained some courage from her
overwhelming curiosity. "How does it feel?" asked Megan
.
"How does what feel?" asked
Maureen. "Your heart that is sick?" "Oh," said Maureen, It hurt for a while, but now I am
fine." "How are you Megan?" she asked
.
"I'm OK," said Megan. Megan's mom pulled a chair up
close to Maureen's bed for Megan to sit on. Megan sat quickly and tried to think of more
things to talk to Maureen about. "I got a new barrette today," she said with a little giggle, "it
is beautiful
,
" said Maureen. Megan wanted to ask some questions, but her fear held her back.
Suddenly, she blurted one out
.
"Are you going to be able to play with me anymore?" "Not right
now," said Maureen. "Then
,
when?" asked Megan impatiently. Megan's mom spoke up and said
,
"
Megan, dear, I think Maureen is going to stay here for a while." Maureen nodded. "My heart
is weak, Megan
.
The doctors need to give me medicine
.
I will have to stay here for some
time." "Oh, "said Megan
.
They ended their visit by kissing Maureen on the cheek. On the way
out, Megan asked, "Will Bobbi-Maureen be all right?" "I hope so," said her mother. They were
both quiet the rest of the way home. The next morning the phone rang. Megan's mother
answered it. Megan could not hear the conversation, but she heard her mother say, "Oh no,"
in a discouraged voice
.
When she hung up the phone, she walked into Megan's room. "Megan,
dear, I have some very sad news," said her mother. "What happened?" said Megan trying to
sound brave. "Bobbi-Maureen is not going to be able to visit us anymore. She passed away
last night, do you know what that means?" "I'm not sure, does that mean she is still sick?"
18
asked Megan. "No," said her mother, that means that she is not alive anymore, her heart
stopped working. She is with our old pet Peggy the Parakeet who died last year and Suzy's
Uncle Fester who passed away in May. We will only be able to see her in memories now
.
" "Oh,"
said Megan
.
"Do you remember her favorite flower?" asked her mother. "Daisies," said Megan,
"Why?" "Can you draw some daisies?" asked her mother. "Sure," Megan said as she reached
for her crayons. Megan drew daisies better than she ever drew them before. "Here mom,"
she said as she handed the picture to her . "These are for Bobbi-Maureen," said her mother
as she taped the picture above Megan's bed. "I want you to remember all the fun times you
had." "OK," said Megan. Everynight after that, Megan looked up at her picture of the daisies,
smiled and said, "Goodnight, Bobbi-Maureen." Then, she laid down and slept soundly all night.
19
THE GATE
The Gate; the door that is closed
restricts the passing of thoughts and ideas,
and allows them free.
The construction of a gate
is to erect a barrier between the world inside and out.
The firm gate stands tall and sturdy;
motionless it protects,
but is a weakness if ignored as its walls are overcome.
Those large wooden doors swing open when the almighty bell is tolled.
Told to be opened in the arrival of kings and royalty
mounted
upon their ornamented horses.
As they pass through the mighty bricked arch in which
each brick of stone is crucial in the existence of this gate,
and as each brick represents unity and the partnership in order to
keep it standing, the mighty warriors take notice.
They take such notice of this gate
as it signifies power and prestige.
Beyond this gate lies a wealth of community,
and the passing of ideas within.
The life of many is contained within these walls.
Within the barrier, and within the mind,
the creativeness of all who helped to
build this gate,
and from this community,
s
tand as
a
statue on a pedestal
for all to see and admire.
For this gate represents people.
As for when they enter, they share their wealth of knowledge with others.
In sharing the ritual to the opening and closing of this gate,
they hold it to be sacred, as the gate is their barrier and limiter.
Adam Weissman
20
UN
T[TLED
TIMr
T!m~ i5 b~t fl m~gry
flt which I bgw my hffid.
~u~
i5 b~t fl r~QlLECt
flt which my
tffir5
flr~
5hffi.
uF~
i5
b~t fl dggrwfly
flt
which my Fffir5
mk~ h~.
Inngcffic~
i5 b~t fln imflg~
gn
which my drffim5
it F~5
.
when
together we are alone
i
n our
own
little
world
we
are the center surrounded by
a
hem1sphet·e of glass
protecting, us
from reality
as the heat rises, feelings
of love
and friendship are
confused
when
apart the cold hits the environment unde
r
the
thin glass globe
tears
turn into snow covering up our thoughts of each
other
we
drift out
of the dream as our imagination
returns
to the real world
our
feelings
drop
as the tiny snowglobe falls from
our
hands
the thin layer
of
glass shatters and our little world disappears
-
Aimee Marie D1·ayer
21
...
.
-·
..
.
.
...
.
t
.
.
.,,
"tr.
.
·
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.
.
.
.
i
Newsong
Bittersweet are you who remembers,
remembering me,
remembering shattering moments.
How delicate,
how soft, yet brittle in ancient times.
Will you fiercely grasp flying events?
Will you embrace them as an angel
cherishes her golden harp?
The stars sing for you,
gloriously. They proclaim your innocence
quietly
whispering pink lullabies before slumbering.
Faithfully golden harps
pluck fragile consonents of your Name.
Do you hear?
Can you listen?
Preciously they appear,
angels in gleaming mists,
humming their desolate hymns,
lyrics of fallen kings and desolate maidens.
Prentious in a scarlet robe of glory you stand,
tearing harkening skies into bits,
myriads of tiny countries become dust
and the memories,
like fragile wings
bittersweet.
they appear,
dancing
between snowflakes,
passionless
.
-Sonya Mello
23
mbe strong man, bresseb tn benteb, ftndp-b.lrougbt armor anb a bdm b.lttb scraps of dotb
tratltng from tt, blob.ltng tn tbe b.ltnb, lookeb before btm. mberc was a grass-cobereb lebge,
bangtng ober tbe sea. Jidob.1 tbat b.las bunbrebs of fed of cltff, anb tbcn ...
mbe sea.
1Jt was sunset. mbe scene, tbe skp, tn fact tbe berp atr was tingeb b.lttb rebbtsb-orange
Ugbt. 1Jt rdlecteb off bts armor anb bts sb.lorb as be brcb.1 tt. J!,e tosseb as tbe tbe scab-
barb be bab no neeb for tt nob.1. J!,e abbanceb to tbe ebge of tbe cltff. J!,e stoppeb a
mere tbree fed from tbe prect ptce. ~lob.llp, be turncb to tbc nortb. mbcrc lap more jaggcb
cltffs anb tbc rolltng btlls atop tbcm. Wpon one sat a Ugbtbousc, scbcral mtlcs ab.lap. 1Jt
was butlt of grap anb wbtte stone, anb was ages olb.
as
be lookcb, be coulb sec a Ugbt
slob.llp grob.ltng at tbe top. mbe keeper was ktnbltng tbe ftrc for tbts ntgbt.
J!,e turneb to tbc cast. mbcrc, beponb tbc btus, be coulb sec tbc cttp on tbts dear
ebentng. Just looktng
at
tt be got tbe feeltng of tbe bustltng place tt was.
a
bark fedtng
loomcb up tn btm. mbe people tbere ran about Uke tnsccts: workers, solbters, queens, cben
sptbcrs to prep upon tbe otbers. mbep were tbctr ob.ln unbotng. mbep b.loulb bestrop tbem-
sdbes.
jf
atbcr, 1J
"
babe abengcb
pou.
J!,c lookcb bob.ln. Babes crasbcb upon tbc dtffs at tbc bottom, anb tbc occas tonal
rock. enc tn parttcular caugbt bts cpc. mbcre was notbtng spcctal about tt. 1Jt b.las
just
tbc same as
anp
otber btll of water rusbtng tob.larbs tbc coast anb tts ob.ln tmmtnent bc-
structton.
!}ct
tt entranccb btm.
a
moment later tt b.las ober. J!,e jammcb tbc Sb.lorb tn bts banb rougblp tnto tbc
turf at bts
s
tbe. 3ft stoob tberc Ukc a cructftx, a monument to somctbtng sacreb anb long
bcab.
l\ffJLffaM jlflff!
be screameb tn bts mtnb.
~
leapeb, satltng tnto tbc atr wttb bts banbs outstrdcbeb Uke some tb.ltsteb metal
btrb.
as
be fell, tbc tbougbts anb fedtngs swept tbougb btm Uke a current tbrougb tbc
sea. J!,c tbougbt of bts quest, of bts fatbcr, of tbc people be bab md ... tbose be b~tcb, tbose
b.lbo be lobcb anb batcb btm ...
mbcp b.lcre notbtng now, particles of bust tn tbc b.ltnb. etllp tbc fecltng of frccbom,
of release, tbc falltng, tbe flptng ... tbat was wbat be fdt.
as
be plummdcb to tbe oran!}e-
tingeb ocean bdob.1 btm, one
s
tnglc tbougbt rt ppeb tbrougb all tbe otbcrs, teartng, burntng,
clcantng out bts beab unttl tt b.las emptp of all but ttsdf.
l\ffJLffaM jlflef ...
--J
df Jlobakouskt
24
Mosaic_S_1997_001
Mosaic_S_1997_002
Mosaic_S_1997_003
Mosaic_S_1997_004
Mosaic_S_1997_005
Mosaic_S_1997_006
Mosaic_S_1997_007
Mosaic_S_1997_008
Mosaic_S_1997_009
Mosaic_S_1997_010
Mosaic_S_1997_011
Mosaic_S_1997_012
Mosaic_S_1997_013
Mosaic_S_1997_014
Mosaic_S_1997_015
Mosaic_S_1997_016
Mosaic_S_1997_017
Mosaic_S_1997_018
Mosaic_S_1997_019
Mosaic_S_1997_020
Mosaic_S_1997_021
Mosaic_S_1997_022
Mosaic_S_1997_023
Mosaic_S_1997_024
Mosaic_S_1997_025
Mosaic_S_1997_026
Mosaic_S_1997_027
Mosaic_S_1997_028
·
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This is where I'm supposed to tell you what a wonderful book this is and how much
hard work went into its making and all that. Well
..
.. .I think you can get a pretty good idea of all that
by just looking through it and without the ''Blah,blah,blah
.
" Come to think of it why do I even need
to write this letter, you
'
ve already picked our book up. Probably with the intention of reading it
(unless you need more kindling when the dorm heaters break down), so your all set to go
.
Get your
eyes full and send us some stuff next semester
.
P.S
.
In case you were all wondering
,
there
'
s actually a
reason
behind the title this semester. While
we were working on the various poems and stories here in this book we tried to apply different fonts
to them, fonts that fit the mood of the work (COOL)
.
Unfortunately, almost all the good fonts had a
tendency to scatter the writing all over the page (NOT COOL)
.
So due to the ''Broken Fonts" there
is little to see in eye-pleasing letters
,
but the title's great!
P.P.S
.
If any of you put this book down due to our lack of cool fonts I have been authorized to set
lose the C-7 attack walruss on you
.
Be warned.
Chief Editor
Kelly Nagy
Our Computer Expert
Jeffery Novakouski
Editors
Susan Goodwin
Lauren Collins
David Wasilewski
Meghan Sloan
Eric Dahlen
Jeannine Burrus
Jeffery Novakouski
Tara Sullivan
Ellen Kalaus
Ouga, the monkey
President of the Literary Arts Society
:3
ason
Lf'aM \ \
(Couldn't have done it without him!)
TABt! OF CONT!NT5
STUFF
Cover (Just in case you missed it)
The President's
"Blah,blah,blah."
The Table of Contents
WRITING
Barbie and Ken, by Michael G. Cassidy
The Song, by Amanda Garrison
Scars and Knight's Question, both by Kevin Mewhiney
Birth Cry, by Kevin Mewhiney
Untitled, by Colleen Maloney
Self, by Patricia
A.
Corley
Untitled, by Kari
Ann
Andreasen
The Same Streets are Different on Sunday Night, by Ted Millar
Garbage Day and Revenge, both by Mandy Parrillo
Untitled, by Jeannine Burrus
Obsession, by Tanya Klein
Wounded Excursions Through Space, by Joseph Laposta
Looking Skyward, by Joseph Laposta
Fractured Dream Plain, by Joseph Laposta
Unpleasant Slogans, by Sonya Mello
A Special Friend, by Charlotte Partridge
The Gate, by Adam Weissman
Time, by Amy Rys
Untitled, by Aimee Marie Drayer
Newsong, by Sonya Mello
Release, by Jeff Novakouski
ARTWORK AND PHOTOGRAPHS
Broken Fonts (Cover Art), by Jeannine Burrus
Untitled, by Meghan Sloan
The Little Girl, a photograph by Kelly Nagy
The Path, by Susan Goodwin
The Island, By Jeannine Burrus
The Dragon, by Susan Goodwin
Untitled, by Emily
The Metal Bird, Jeannine Burrus
The Eifle Tower, a photograph by Kelly Nagy
The Face, by Susan Goodwin
Page 0
Page 1
Page 2 (DUH!)
Page 4
Page 5
Page 6
Page 8
Page 8
Page 9-10
Page 11
Page 12-13
Page 14
Page 15
Page 15
Page 16
Page 16
Page 17
Page 17
Page 18-19
Page 20
Page 21
Page 21
Page 23
Page 24
Page 0
Page 3
Page4
Page 6
Page 7
Page 8
Page 10
Page 19
Page 21
Page 22
I
I
I
4
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.
the song
by Amanda Garrison
once I heard a song floating on a breeze
and I reached out into the sky
and closed my fist around it
and as I walked I could hear the melody
the words echoed and bounced around
as if inside a vast and hollow canyon
and I was happy with my song
I kept
it
with me like a good-luck charm
I played it over and over
and soon I could hum along with the melody
and I could sing the words
and I filled the emptiness with all of myself
the notes formed a wall around me
an impenetrable barrier
and I was tucked safely inside
hidden away from danger
one day when I was walking, I tripped over a stone
and my fist opened
and my song flew away
I sat on the ground and listened
but I heard nothing
I tried to sing it to get it to come back
but I couldn't remember how
and my barrier of notes and words
crumbled in dust around me
and all I could hear was the pounding of my heart
echoing and bouncing around
as if inside a vast and hollow canyon
5
ScaRs: Ja--oeo Opcnnism paRc 4
Wbg in pain
An--o miseRg
Does 1nsp1Rauon
Cake bol--o o.,= me"?
Cime co beal
Cime co 5Row
peRbaps in veRse
Cbis all will sbow.
Rbgmes somecimes
broe
a ceRRJble case
.J:0Rc1n5 RemernbRance
O.,= all cbac was lose
Cbis woRk
we all --oo
Co live a5a1n
Wben
we pnisb oaR joaRneg
Is a poem, nae an en--o.
Kevin mewbineg
6
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bi1<cb C1<g: JAnet> Opom1sm pARc
6
CoWARns mg new be51nn1n5
R15bc AWAg
I
masc sec oac
YeA1<n1n5 .J=0R 1<eb11<cb
bow n1,1:,1:e1<enc I Am now
AJ:1<A1n soll . . . somewbA c
ReA"t)g
co
move .J=0RWAR"t)
'Oon'c WAY.Jc co be beln "t)OWn
lon51n5 .J=0R comoRRows
I
nee:o mg soal co 51<ow
V1cAl 1,1: 1 Am co 50 on
eve1<mo1<e
WbAc bAppeneo 1s now pAsseo
encompAsseo mg whole wo1<ln
leARneo bARn .J=Rom cbe oaccome
le,1:c cbe
pA1n .J=AR beb1nn
Kevin mewb1neg
So--
t"l.¥ed✓•
S l e e p ~ [A'\lon,
me;.
I
wcuit"'to--g,i>ve--[A'\l'to--u¥hcthit:
~
blctc1v
thief
who-
f t ~ ~
d , v ~
wn.e,v\,t
£he;
curu"'wt1 c1oclv
~
off
~
U \ A I ~
vocl<4,,~ lay¥orv
~
e y ~
Now u
w
~
't~t"l.Al\ft 'to-- g,i>ve--
(,¥v.
It'
w
now
I
CtM1I
~
v~ethw,
~ ~ c a w
ha>ve--
hwr
w~ w
i.iv
me;.
So--
I
g,i>ve--
[ A ' \ ! ~
u
w
~
~-
Now
~
life,
C t ¥ ~
wt£!
d-vow
~
[A'\!
pv~er¥
~ £ h e ;
v ~
o f ~
wetAl.!that- w
L e f t ~
-ColleewMCUOfU0'
R:ltriciaA.
Cl:r~
Cl:rrprre
and
crnb:ast
}O..IrSelf.
I can rot think of
arwthmJ
that CIJJld l::e h:m:Er. B.lt I
oo:::idrl to cb
this
P:lP2J'.'
~
I
hid
al1'.Eedy-
startErl
the
resamh.
~
rard:st
P3rt
v\6S
d:scribin:Jrrv
actu3.l
rel£.
l'Ctual Self -
Wu am I?
In
terns of in::q:arlnt
or
~ t
i;:ers::nality, I am
a ~ t .
In
terns of a
la:rl:!r
or
a foJ.Jo.er, I an a la:rl:!r. I cb kn::wrne thir:g a1::rutn¥:E].f, I
d:n'
t
like
n¥:Elf, rut
I can livewithn¥:E].f, lH.Elly.
It
EB:Irs
like
~
is
wdtin:J
hrks
a1::rut
~
tcdly,
articles
sayin:J WB.t it
is
like to l::e
a
teEn. 'IlEy
fEEl
th3.t
tlEy
si;:eak
far
eveI'.}Ue.
I hate re:ple
wo
g:JE@lize like that. Yrn can mly
si;:eak
far
:',,O.llJ:Elf
andm
me
else.
Yrn
are
mly
}OJ,
rtt
an
Entire generatim.
lbv
can
they
p::ssible krov h:J.v
ever}Ole
rrv
age
fEEls???
ve
are
mt
c:1ae;,
we
are
mt all like
03d1
ot:1Er.
ve
are
re:ple, individ.lal.s.
ve
have
thin:Js
in
CDlITOl,
and
we
have
thirg3
that
we
hate
aJ:x:ut
Efldl other.
W"E.t
tln3e
thin:Js
are differ fran
{Er3:I1
to
{ErB:Il.
B.lt
I digre3S,
this
v\6S
ffiw:s=rl
to l::e
al::rut rre, me
{ErB:Il,
rrt a rant aglli)St idicts, al1:lntj1 I will prd:::abl y
<bit
00\leral
tirrEs
inl'Ere.
IU;pey,
I anrneP2UD1. I an20'),e3YSOld. I hate the terrng31X, I
like
the
terrnchildof
the
80's. B.lt that's just a
label.
Ever}ale
taJks
atcut
1al:Bls
t:lES3 days
andh:J.vi,.,e slnlldl::e cmeful atcutrot usin:J
then,
tut i,.,e still use
then
in
e,er}tlly
anversatim.
H:ls
am-me
reali:ze::i that arr narre
is
a latel? 'Tuat arr
pm:nts
n.irre:i
us
b-cai
ise
of h:J.vi,.,e
act
or
la:ks::l.
like. I kn::w of a Eriaxl.
wo
is
CElled
by
his
nid<nare,
W'lich
is
a
real
rare,
l::a:ause
d.IrinJ
his
first
WEl<. of CDlIBJ2
rors::ne
said that
he
laN:rl like a P2UD1 with that nare.
l\rrl
it stuck! !
Can
thin:Js
93t
any
sb.Jpicer:???
Wat
is
the
tn:int of life? Ch.lld
s::rre
me plEaSe
explam
that to rre? I
SEffi\
to have
misse::1 the lx:at as
tlEy
say.
Iwm.t isolatim, withmaE arrur:rlrre.
:tvE
ina cabin in the....a::ds, just nature andrrewithmi,crries. Yet s:x::iety
Jo::ks
<h.rl.
i..p:n
r;:a:ple like
this
and
say
that
they
are
mt crntril:u
t
in:J to s:x::iety.
Exo..193
rre, tut WB.t
has
s:x::iety
d:ne
:far:-rre lately???? I snilch'tpickms:x:iety
, if it
W:lffi
' t
far-
tl:an,
I:i:;:n:d:a::J
ly
Wllldl'tl::eme,
rut
still.
8:x::iety
is
rressed.
.
WD millyV1611tS to live ina \\Ol'."ld
like this
. D::a
th, kill.irg3,
ITlll'.l:El'.'
,
rai;:e
,
wrr,
strife
,
star:vat.im,
as:.ac.E
:irat.im.s.
G:x::dold}cllcwjOJIJ131.i:m, mlyrep::rt WB.t will catch there:ple
'
s ~ .
rut
wo
can.blare j
rnmalisn.
It
is
s:x:iety that
wmts to
see
such ~
.
.And
we
are
s::ciety r;:a:ple
.
ve
are
wiy
~
are
the
w,y
that
they
are.
ve
ha
ve m
me
to
blarretu
t
c:urselves.
B
lamin:J
the
gqynext
to us
d::es m
gxd
,
ruz
e..ien
tually the
b
lare
g::es
full
circle.
l\rrl wiat
has
~ .
mt:h:in:J,
just passin:J blare
.
N)
aE fixes
the
pablan, just fixes
the
blarre m
s::rre
me.
s::ciety
is
uµEt
with
AJI6
arrl the other dise3S2S tlat i,.,e are havID] t:mble ki
ll
:in;r. I
::re
it as natl.ll'.e3'
w,y
of
PJ[1ish:ir:g
us.
ve
are
cestrcy
-
irg
this
plartt.
Yrn
are
prd:::ably
say:in;J",
d1.
::.,arr
just
say:in;r
that,
and
if
}OJ
g:)t
AIIB,
}OJ'
d wmt a rnre,
or
if
s::ne:ne
clcse
to }OJ.
g:J.:
it. . .
I f
I
g:J.:
AIIB
or
s::rre
otlEr
dise3se, d1. ¼el
l
.
Pe:h:e
the
p::pJ].at:.irn.
of the pl.arEt. If
rors::ne
clcse to rre
die3,
:'l,e3
it
tarrs a
role
inrrv
h:art. It
h.rrts
l:irehill, arrl I
dn'
t milly
ao::.t:p:;
it,
rut
v-.e
are livmJW"at
is
CEllEd life,
arrl
d:a.th
is
at
tre
ax1
cf life. D::ath
is
tre
t::dp
c£. a life
tire,
tlHe
is
ro
ot:rEr" Ertl
.
8:Jrt
of like a rne
¼l:l}T
ticka: !
B.lt
sutjh
aJ:x:ut
s::ciety, lets f:irrl
s:neth:inJ
else
torrurble atcut
.
Is
t:rere
arwthmJ
else
to re:illy
talk
ab:ut?
Everythin;J-
le3ds
back
to s:x::iety.
Everythjn;;J
we
cb
is
dictated
by
s:x::iety in aE form
or
arcther
.
Yrn
rray say
that
}OJ
are g::iin:J against s:x::iety, tut
ratarl::er
that s:x::iety
is
ever-i,rne,
ro }OJ. are
~
or
cbin:J
s::rrethin:J
with
s::ne:ne
s:ns-here. (Yes, I am
i3',\0]'."8
that I an gaEralizin:J atcut s::ciety l'Ere.
81..e
rre!)
If
}OJ.
wmt to 93t re:illypic:ky }OJ. can
say
that
mth.inJ
is
agllilSt s::ciety and
rothir:g
is
far s:ciety. S:irr:E
ro:::i.ety
is
:rroce
LP of all of us, and
we
all
have
differa1.t
c:p:inims
m everythinJ,
v-.e
will all
disa:]rEe
m
everythjn:J
that
arres
i.p.
'Illere
is
mthin:J
that I can think of that
ocrra:ne
s:::rrs,.nere\\Ulldmt agn:ewith, if mlytol::e
the
ml
y
rne
tocbro.
R=q)le have crnpla:irro to rre that WB.t I wdte
is
d:pressin:J. "\'ell
guess
WB.t guys, life
is
d:press:in;J".
'This
is
rqyrel£.
'This
is
rre. Life
is
rrt alW:JYS
S1l1S1irE
arrl
fJoers. Life
is
rrore likely to
kick
}OJ. in the ass. B.lt
this
~
rrv
reality.
D:n'
t
v.orry
if
}Q.IrS
d::Em' t rratchrnirn, isn't rot
SLg;:CS::rl.
Yrn
are
mt rre.
.And
thank g::rl,
I an rot
}OJ.
WD vruld
like to l::e l i k e ~
elre?
'llEre
is
mth.inJ
in that. I wm.t to l::e l i k e ~
else.
I wmt to l::e
rre. I
wmt
to
1::e
like::l.. I
d:n'
t care WB.t
otles
think
of rre.
D:es
this
s::und
crnfus:in;r to }OJ.?
I-bN
cb }OJ.
think
it
fEels to l::e the aE
~
it?
W-W
cb:sn' t life rrakEs
SEnse,
rut
t:h:n agrin,
wu
ever said
tra.t life
v\6S
~
to
rrake
9:?19a.
I
d:n' t
rarerter
that
l::ein:J
in the
crntract, tut t:h:n
a:Jilll,
I
d:n'
t
think I
rm:3.
it
tro carefully l::efare I sigrej
t
9
I ~
if
an;yaE
\\0..1ld
re:rl
this
if
trey dich'
t
a1.m:il;y
krO!rre.
If
trey did, w:uld
they
say
that
I
an a
voiCE
of
ITV gB'El'.a.tim?
Wiy
cb µqile cb that? FUttin:J µqile
rn.
su::h
a ~ t a l ?
au
re:illy'v-.0!1.ts that resp::nsiliility.
B.lt
'yO.l
d:n'
t ask,
'yO.l
just cb. Ib
'yO.l
re:ilize
the
~
of
}O.lr
actirn.s?
Ib
'yO.l
care
ab::ut
the
Cil1S€QLlEI1CES
of
}O.lr
actims?
I'm
sure that
'yO.l
care
ab::ut
the :imre:li.ate,
and
rrmbe
s::rre
of
the
kn:J
tean ~ ,
rut cb
'yO.l
ever re:illy
take
ever:ythmJ
into ao:n.mt? llbs:::>lutely
ever:ythmJ
that
a:uld p:::ssilily hclg;:ai?
I f
'yO.l
said
:i,es,
tl:a1.
'yO.l
rrust
te
a crnp.iter.
Yru
can't p:::ssilily
crnp:;nsate
for
everythin:J
that
'yO.l
cb.
If
'yO.l
try,
tl:a1.
}OJ
v-.este
}O.lr
tirre
and
}O.lr
life.
Cb fcn:wrd, lrave
th:Ee
CEhirrl
wn
can't
crnp:;nsate,
they
are
rot
rB:Jdy
tote, to
live. Life's a bitch and
clr¥D2
wn
tells
}OJ
ct:lErw.ire
is lyin; or
tiy:in:J
to
921.l
:P-1
s:net:h:iil].
H:w
tnE
this
is.
&rrvival
of
the fittffit
.
~
1.amm
this
ing3E@l
bio. It
wsd
tote
the
SJI:Vival
c£ thepw.3irnl fittest.
NJ.v
it
S:Ers
tote
a
SJI:Vival
c£ the
srartest fittffit,
and
the
Willet
fittest.
'Ire \\0llet
will ~t
:Pl
farther
than
}O.lrrrrindrrcst
brres
tlo..tj"l.
s::rret:h:in;J
is wr:rn:JW"lffi a
rera:n.
can't cb
s::rret:h:mJ
with
their
life that
they
are Ilffil1t
to
cb
because
they
can
'
t afford
to
and
there
are µqile
wn
have
ro
rruch
rrrney that
they
d:n
'
t krO/v-ibat
to
cb
with
it all
.
OJr
priorities as
huran
~
nesrl
rore
w:n:k.
Fl:3:ple oft:En raranticize ab::ut
the :i;:est and
luv
i
t w:md
be
like
to
live
in
differrnt eras. I
think that I w::uld like
to
g:J
l:ff:k
to
tefore the
cr:ro:pt
of
lam.
startEd.
'IlEre eJel'.:rO"E
'\<.0S
free.
w:nai
\\Ere
rot
c:wm
byrran,
and
for
the nest
put,
ever'y01e \\08
free
to
cb
and be
as
they
plrese.
NxE
of
the
rultural
bias that are
with
us
ta:syw::uld
exist
b3ck
thal.
Life
v..as
rot
i;:erfect
by
anyrreans,
bJt the grass
is
grEHEr
rn.
the
otlEr
sire. I think that I
a:uld
d::ial
with
an early
daath
to
have
the
froo:bn
of
rot
bemJ
o,,rro
by
clr¥D2
and
rot
have
beinJ
resp::nsilile
to
ar¥I]e
rut
myself
and
tlose
ammd
rre.
BJt
in
a
vey,
that
is hJ..l it is
ta:l3y,
exp2Ct
v..e
alro
have
all
of tie£
exp2Ctatims
pilerl
up::n
us that
v..e
rrust
d::ial
with.
D3:ilin_J
with
t:h:se
exr;:e:::tatims
is w-at
kills
rre.
NJt
ra::ESSaril
y the
exr;:e:::tatims
of
ITV fanily,
bJt alro
t:h::re
of
s::ciety. I sl.uJ.ld atta'ld
mll0J3,
and I sl.uJ.ld find a jcb,
and
I sl.uJ.ld eamrruchrrrney,
and
I SD..lld
axk
and Cl03fl, and
te
d:rrest:ic,
and
have
2. 5
dlildrm,
a cat,
and
a
d:g.
I sl:n.lld
te
the me
to
take care
of
the
dlildrm. I
s1n.1ld
have
dri.ldra1
Olly
after
teiTIJ
rrarrie::i.
I
sJ:n.1ld
rtt
try
to
take
crnt.rol
at
-w::irk
and te
a
IB3(EJ'.",
I sl:n.lld rtt
te
a bitch.
W1at if I
d:n' t
\\0I1t
to
folla,..,
t::rES2 t:h:in;Js? W1at if I d:n'
t
like
than?
'IhEn
I an CEViant.
Tl:ymJ
to
be
s::rre
-
t:hinJ
tlat I anrtt.
I£in;:J
''1.JU)it:y'',
rtt
stayjn;J
inrrvplace.
BJt
w-at
is
ITVplace.
If
all
thinJS
¼el'.e
e:;JU31,
i.,,,ra.t
is
rrvplace
in
life?
BJt
thinJS
are
rot
Eq.£1,
and
WEre
fuil.d I starrl, the
left, the
riqlt, themid::il.e,
dJ
I care?
If
I
d:n'
t,
fun
I
d:n'
t
have
the
right
to
cnrplain.
WEre is
the
:rebml
a:nter for life? I
\\0I1t
to
rrake
an
exdlaa;ie.
W:at cb
}OJ
IlffiI1
there
is
ro
return CH'lter?? I
can't
rrake
an
exd1an:Je
! !
?
!
??
au
rrade
up
these
rules?? I want
to
sp:xlk
to
s::rre:::ne
in
d1arge
lEre.
W"D
is
in
dlarge
lEre?
Sp?ak
up!
¼here
are 'y0.1???
10
Q!lone in pabbeb pink satin
:3 bie an insane fate
6enses acute but bread) long lost
Dlfactort) ot,erf[oros roit9 becat)
<morms bigest fro3en f[es9
i9e serpent anb t9e saint
Q! ferocious battle
CJJlt) soul,
a
roinner' s pri3e
CJJlt) cool roit9ereb corpse
:3nfinite slumber in eternal isolation
<marmt9 anb breat9 suc9 bfoinitt)
i9is roorn bobt) 9as bleb au
11
12
THE SAME STREETS ARE
DIFFERENT ON SUNDAY NIGHT
by Ted Millar
Moon-day; before the light swims to the
candle-dust, we arise to meet the street.
Dark and cold. (It may be warm),
but we don't know the difference,
because we have to clasp our
shackels closed again
.
The feeling of swollen-head, and
coffee tranquility overcomes us-
The end is near.
Day #Tue; The same thing-(Willie Dixon).
It's the caffeine stop of weeping trees
in November. Some days it's cold,
some days it's not-but we're
feeling old
today.
We stop to wonder why everyday,
but we don't have time to stop today.
The end is near.
Hump-day; The hill has risen. We're
feeling a little better about
ourselves ... the coffee tastes better.
We talk about the day of fools
with our friends who won't be
in three days. We're all competing
for the same soil-to get our
hands dirty to show our wives
to show our kids
to show who wins
to sharpen our knives.
Thursday; with the hump-day behind us,
we can think about discarding
the caffeine and red die in
our veins--a new poison
to forget we' re human and hated.
Fools' Day; Finish quickly! The streets
are a-glow and everyone is
ready to go. We don our
masks.
The hour to be happy awaits
the longest day of the year.
It's a rush-
It's a race!
Sell-yourself Day; Sleep late-
Eat the dirt from under
your feet and the
sand from your soul.
Excedrin for the head-
Swallow it with tranquility.
(somehow it tastes better,
but a little bland, though.)
A shower to meet Cloe,
A new pair of boots.
Going to do it again ... only better.
"Maybe we'll get some here."
The pigs seem to thrive on
the fat of the land.
While all this time, still
wearing our masks.
Sun-day; It isn't. It's supposed to be, isn't it?
You can't find your hand in
the snow!! And you can't find Cloe.
She woke up next to you.
Somehow, the streets look different.
The same people, zombie's,
the same light, somehow, dimmer.
It's funny how the sun plays
tricks on you.
Last night the moon was your
friend, but you hope the "sun"
never sets--you're a zombie too.
The same streets are different on Sunday
night.. ...
13
14
Garbage Day
I took my silly brother,
and stuffed him in a can.
Set the can upon the curb,
for the garbage man.
The man threw him in the truck,
it crunched and squashed and strained.
I'm so afraid the garbage truck,
will never be the same.
Mandy Pardl/o
••••••
•••••••••••
·-.·❖-•·-.······
·······
········.:·-:
••••••••• ••••••••
••••••••••
•••••• •
•
•• •
...
•
•
• •• • ••
•
•
•
•
••••••
• ••• -~
• •••••••• •••••
•
•
•
••
•
••
•
••••••
Revenge
Bobs little sister had a favorite doll,
her hair was golden yellow.
Bob ripped off the arms and smashed
the head - he was a nasty fellow.
His sister cried and swore revenge
,
Bob wasn't even ashamed.
But as he rode his bike down the hill,
''my brakes are gone, "he proclaimed.
Mandy Parrillo
Obsession
bv Tanva Klein
De first time I saw vou , I looked into vour eves.
I knew that vou were special -I didn't believe
the lies.
I watch all vour actions. And I Hsten to vour everv word.
I have a secret obsession -
if
onlv I could be heard.
You're alwavs in mv thoughts. You're alwavs in
mvdreams.
Please give me a chance -Things aren't alwavs
as thev seem.
,
So what makes me love vou? The reason I can't
auitefind.
But from the moment I saw vou -You'Ve alwavs
been on mv mind.
Mv love is hidden deep, And mv pain is kePI inside.
MV feelings are forever -Because thev never will subside.
WIii vou ever reallze? WIii vou ever see?
I iust want to tell vou -
You'll alwavs be a part of ma.
15
16
WOUNDED EXCURSIONS n-lROUGH SPACE
WOUNDED ANO WARPED
MY FRIEND IN AND Of TIME
GONE FOR NOW,
TEMPORARY INSANffY
SHS WffHIN MY MIND,
HIS SHARP BARBS PIERCE
NW
SOUL
SOUL?
WHAf A JOKE!
NOT ACKNOWLEDGING UMrrs
UNBOUND,
GIVE ALL
ASK No·r,
ONWARD,
NO UMrrA·noNS TO HINDER,
B;.\DLANDS BECKON,
Ui'ffOLD TRAGEDIES
UNFOLD INTO SPACE,
-JOSEPH LAPOSTA
LOOKING SKYWARD
AS I LOOK TO nu SKY
I SEE
n-lAf I AM A LUCKY MAN,
All n-lAT I HAVE
YH I DO NOT COMPREHEND WHAT I HAVE,
AS I LOOK INTO nu SKY
MY VISION BLURRED
MY TEARS DO NOT KNOW WHY,
WHY MY SOUL
WAS lEfl 'TO DIE,
SO l CRY,
AS I CRY
I FEEL nu COLD RAIN
POURING DOWN UPON ME,
rr IS AS If HEAVEN rrsnf lS CRYING
wrn-1 Mt
-JOSEPH LAPOSTA
FRACfUR.ED DREAM PlAlN
l HAVE NO MORE DREAMS
"fHEY ARE NOW PAs·r EX"flNCflON
NlGH"fMARES ARE ALL ·rHA·r R.EMAlN
FRACfURED DREAMS FLOAf BY MY EYES,
·rHE REMAlNlNG FEW FADE lN"fO OBUVlON,
DREAMS OF HOPE AND DESlRE FLOAf OU"f OF REACH
EXPLOSIONS RlNG lN MY AfMOSPHERE
FEAR GRlPS MY ·rHROAf
AN l RON GRASP MEAN"f ·ro s·n FLE
A CRY "fEARS rrsELF FREE OF "fHE VlCE.
BU"f "fHE CRY DlES BEFORE rr REACHES ANYONE'S EARS
A PLEA NEVER "fO BE HEARD,
THE SHARDS OF
nu
SHAffERED DREAMS PIERCE
AND "fHE WOUNDS BECOME MORE INFECfED,
nu
SHARP REMNAN"fS
"
fEAR MYSELF FROM MYSELF
MY SOUL SOURED BY
nu
APPARrflONS
ONE BY ONE MY DREAMS SHATfER.
n-lEN
nu
PlECES OF WHAf COULD BE
DISAPPEAR AND FADE FROM ME.
-JOSEPH LAPos·rA
Unpleasant Slogans
Do not tease me
with a foolish grin.
your plastic
visage
plasters
billboards
on every
imaginable
highway
I
travel
False
Advertisements
amuse me
not
-Sonya Mello
17
Charlotte Partridge
A SPECIAL FRIEND
Megan is sad today. Her mother knows why Megan is sad because she is sad too
.
They
are not sad because it is raining or because they couldn't get a puppy as a pet. They are sad
for a different reason. Megan had a special friend named Maureen. She liked to call her
"Bobbi-Maureen" just for fun. Bobbi-Maureen had curly, white hair which was different then
Megan's straight, brown hair. Maureen and Megan got along well despite their age difference.
They played games together and told each other stories
.
Since Maureen was with Megan
when Megan
'
s mother was at night meetings, they got to do things that Megan was normally
not allowed to do
.
Maureen braided Megan's hair and Megan tried to braid Maureen's. They
ate chocolate and watched game shows on
TV.
Megan stayed up way past her bedtime. Megan
loved her t
i
me with Bobbi-Maureen. Maureen loved her time with Megan too
.
But Maureen
knew this precious time would end eventually. One night
,
Bobbi-Maureen was not able to
baby-sit. Megan's mother said that she was sick , but that they could visit her in the hospital.
Megan had never been in a hospital before and was nervous. The decided to go on a sunny
,
Saturday afternoon. Megan dressed in her favorite pink dress with the ruffled sleeves. Her
mother wore her blue skirt and white blouse. Megan's mom explained that the hospital is not
really a scary place. "It is where people like Maureen get help when their hearts are not
strong enough to work by themselves.
"
Megan did not know what to expect. They pulled up to
a large, white cement building. Megan's mom said, "Here we are." They walked to the front
desk which to Megan looked like the secretary's desk at her mother's office. "Hello," said the
secretary
.
"Hello,
"
said Megan's mother. Megan shyly hid behind her mother's leg
.
"What a
pretty dress!" said the secretary to Megan
.
Megan's mom always taught her to be polite, so
she said, "Thank you," and smiled quietly. They got a pass from the secretary and directions
to Maureen's room
.
They walked down many long, white hallways
.
Megan saw things that she
never saw before. She saw so many doctors and nurses scurrying about
.
She saw patients
sleeping on beds with pillows to prop them up and she saw a HUGE cafeteria filled with food
and people. But they kept walking until they came to room 416 in the C wing of St. Mark's
Hospital. "Hi Maureen," said Megan's mother as they slowly entered the dimly lit, rose colored
room. Megan crept in holding on to her mother
'
s skirt unsure if she would recognize her great
friend. "Hi," replied Maureen in a whisper
.
Maureen was in one of those special beds Megan
saw other patients in. She looked the same, but had some tubes in her hand which Megan's
mom later explained was medicine to keep her healthy. Megan gained some courage from her
overwhelming curiosity. "How does it feel?" asked Megan
.
"How does what feel?" asked
Maureen. "Your heart that is sick?" "Oh," said Maureen, It hurt for a while, but now I am
fine." "How are you Megan?" she asked
.
"I'm OK," said Megan. Megan's mom pulled a chair up
close to Maureen's bed for Megan to sit on. Megan sat quickly and tried to think of more
things to talk to Maureen about. "I got a new barrette today," she said with a little giggle, "it
is beautiful
,
" said Maureen. Megan wanted to ask some questions, but her fear held her back.
Suddenly, she blurted one out
.
"Are you going to be able to play with me anymore?" "Not right
now," said Maureen. "Then
,
when?" asked Megan impatiently. Megan's mom spoke up and said
,
"
Megan, dear, I think Maureen is going to stay here for a while." Maureen nodded. "My heart
is weak, Megan
.
The doctors need to give me medicine
.
I will have to stay here for some
time." "Oh, "said Megan
.
They ended their visit by kissing Maureen on the cheek. On the way
out, Megan asked, "Will Bobbi-Maureen be all right?" "I hope so," said her mother. They were
both quiet the rest of the way home. The next morning the phone rang. Megan's mother
answered it. Megan could not hear the conversation, but she heard her mother say, "Oh no,"
in a discouraged voice
.
When she hung up the phone, she walked into Megan's room. "Megan,
dear, I have some very sad news," said her mother. "What happened?" said Megan trying to
sound brave. "Bobbi-Maureen is not going to be able to visit us anymore. She passed away
last night, do you know what that means?" "I'm not sure, does that mean she is still sick?"
18
asked Megan. "No," said her mother, that means that she is not alive anymore, her heart
stopped working. She is with our old pet Peggy the Parakeet who died last year and Suzy's
Uncle Fester who passed away in May. We will only be able to see her in memories now
.
" "Oh,"
said Megan
.
"Do you remember her favorite flower?" asked her mother. "Daisies," said Megan,
"Why?" "Can you draw some daisies?" asked her mother. "Sure," Megan said as she reached
for her crayons. Megan drew daisies better than she ever drew them before. "Here mom,"
she said as she handed the picture to her . "These are for Bobbi-Maureen," said her mother
as she taped the picture above Megan's bed. "I want you to remember all the fun times you
had." "OK," said Megan. Everynight after that, Megan looked up at her picture of the daisies,
smiled and said, "Goodnight, Bobbi-Maureen." Then, she laid down and slept soundly all night.
19
THE GATE
The Gate; the door that is closed
restricts the passing of thoughts and ideas,
and allows them free.
The construction of a gate
is to erect a barrier between the world inside and out.
The firm gate stands tall and sturdy;
motionless it protects,
but is a weakness if ignored as its walls are overcome.
Those large wooden doors swing open when the almighty bell is tolled.
Told to be opened in the arrival of kings and royalty
mounted
upon their ornamented horses.
As they pass through the mighty bricked arch in which
each brick of stone is crucial in the existence of this gate,
and as each brick represents unity and the partnership in order to
keep it standing, the mighty warriors take notice.
They take such notice of this gate
as it signifies power and prestige.
Beyond this gate lies a wealth of community,
and the passing of ideas within.
The life of many is contained within these walls.
Within the barrier, and within the mind,
the creativeness of all who helped to
build this gate,
and from this community,
s
tand as
a
statue on a pedestal
for all to see and admire.
For this gate represents people.
As for when they enter, they share their wealth of knowledge with others.
In sharing the ritual to the opening and closing of this gate,
they hold it to be sacred, as the gate is their barrier and limiter.
Adam Weissman
20
UN
T[TLED
TIMr
T!m~ i5 b~t fl m~gry
flt which I bgw my hffid.
~u~
i5 b~t fl r~QlLECt
flt which my
tffir5
flr~
5hffi.
uF~
i5
b~t fl dggrwfly
flt
which my Fffir5
mk~ h~.
Inngcffic~
i5 b~t fln imflg~
gn
which my drffim5
it F~5
.
when
together we are alone
i
n our
own
little
world
we
are the center surrounded by
a
hem1sphet·e of glass
protecting, us
from reality
as the heat rises, feelings
of love
and friendship are
confused
when
apart the cold hits the environment unde
r
the
thin glass globe
tears
turn into snow covering up our thoughts of each
other
we
drift out
of the dream as our imagination
returns
to the real world
our
feelings
drop
as the tiny snowglobe falls from
our
hands
the thin layer
of
glass shatters and our little world disappears
-
Aimee Marie D1·ayer
21
...
.
-·
..
.
.
...
.
t
.
.
.,,
"tr.
.
·
;;,: .
.
.
.
.
i
Newsong
Bittersweet are you who remembers,
remembering me,
remembering shattering moments.
How delicate,
how soft, yet brittle in ancient times.
Will you fiercely grasp flying events?
Will you embrace them as an angel
cherishes her golden harp?
The stars sing for you,
gloriously. They proclaim your innocence
quietly
whispering pink lullabies before slumbering.
Faithfully golden harps
pluck fragile consonents of your Name.
Do you hear?
Can you listen?
Preciously they appear,
angels in gleaming mists,
humming their desolate hymns,
lyrics of fallen kings and desolate maidens.
Prentious in a scarlet robe of glory you stand,
tearing harkening skies into bits,
myriads of tiny countries become dust
and the memories,
like fragile wings
bittersweet.
they appear,
dancing
between snowflakes,
passionless
.
-Sonya Mello
23
mbe strong man, bresseb tn benteb, ftndp-b.lrougbt armor anb a bdm b.lttb scraps of dotb
tratltng from tt, blob.ltng tn tbe b.ltnb, lookeb before btm. mberc was a grass-cobereb lebge,
bangtng ober tbe sea. Jidob.1 tbat b.las bunbrebs of fed of cltff, anb tbcn ...
mbe sea.
1Jt was sunset. mbe scene, tbe skp, tn fact tbe berp atr was tingeb b.lttb rebbtsb-orange
Ugbt. 1Jt rdlecteb off bts armor anb bts sb.lorb as be brcb.1 tt. J!,e tosseb as tbe tbe scab-
barb be bab no neeb for tt nob.1. J!,e abbanceb to tbe ebge of tbe cltff. J!,e stoppeb a
mere tbree fed from tbe prect ptce. ~lob.llp, be turncb to tbc nortb. mbcrc lap more jaggcb
cltffs anb tbc rolltng btlls atop tbcm. Wpon one sat a Ugbtbousc, scbcral mtlcs ab.lap. 1Jt
was butlt of grap anb wbtte stone, anb was ages olb.
as
be lookcb, be coulb sec a Ugbt
slob.llp grob.ltng at tbe top. mbe keeper was ktnbltng tbe ftrc for tbts ntgbt.
J!,e turneb to tbc cast. mbcrc, beponb tbc btus, be coulb sec tbc cttp on tbts dear
ebentng. Just looktng
at
tt be got tbe feeltng of tbe bustltng place tt was.
a
bark fedtng
loomcb up tn btm. mbe people tbere ran about Uke tnsccts: workers, solbters, queens, cben
sptbcrs to prep upon tbe otbers. mbep were tbctr ob.ln unbotng. mbep b.loulb bestrop tbem-
sdbes.
jf
atbcr, 1J
"
babe abengcb
pou.
J!,c lookcb bob.ln. Babes crasbcb upon tbc dtffs at tbc bottom, anb tbc occas tonal
rock. enc tn parttcular caugbt bts cpc. mbcre was notbtng spcctal about tt. 1Jt b.las
just
tbc same as
anp
otber btll of water rusbtng tob.larbs tbc coast anb tts ob.ln tmmtnent bc-
structton.
!}ct
tt entranccb btm.
a
moment later tt b.las ober. J!,e jammcb tbc Sb.lorb tn bts banb rougblp tnto tbc
turf at bts
s
tbe. 3ft stoob tberc Ukc a cructftx, a monument to somctbtng sacreb anb long
bcab.
l\ffJLffaM jlflff!
be screameb tn bts mtnb.
~
leapeb, satltng tnto tbc atr wttb bts banbs outstrdcbeb Uke some tb.ltsteb metal
btrb.
as
be fell, tbc tbougbts anb fedtngs swept tbougb btm Uke a current tbrougb tbc
sea. J!,c tbougbt of bts quest, of bts fatbcr, of tbc people be bab md ... tbose be b~tcb, tbose
b.lbo be lobcb anb batcb btm ...
mbcp b.lcre notbtng now, particles of bust tn tbc b.ltnb. etllp tbc fecltng of frccbom,
of release, tbc falltng, tbe flptng ... tbat was wbat be fdt.
as
be plummdcb to tbe oran!}e-
tingeb ocean bdob.1 btm, one
s
tnglc tbougbt rt ppeb tbrougb all tbe otbcrs, teartng, burntng,
clcantng out bts beab unttl tt b.las emptp of all but ttsdf.
l\ffJLffaM jlflef ...
--J
df Jlobakouskt
24
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