My history teacher swivels her neck towards the audience, then towards the board. We hear only one crack in her movements. Fitting for today’s lesson, she says, pulling her sleeves past her elbows. Fair lies on the board like it’s expecting someone to smear it and rewrite it in a different font. Fair is usuallyContinue reading “Two Meanings”
What is the teenage dream?
Is it roaming street lit cities, with nothing but cell service and beat up doc martens
endless adventures with old friends as nostalgic as the smell of crayola paint
Or is it racing hearts when he finally reaches her skin tight jeans
If anything it sounds like a fever dream
Forbidden drinks stinging the backs of virgin throats
Girls with butterfly printed crop tops
And bodies closer to you than your own sober thoughts
Where a game of spin the bottle could be the night’s make or break
And even though 1 in 4 teenagers have stds
Whose lips one’s will land on seems to be the most out spoken risk
Relief coursing through your body the moment you see your friends
As quickly and powerfully as the smoke that fills up baby soft lungs
THC so strong it turns you into a character,
with no repercussions besides the morning after
Each red solo cup sparks curiosity wondering what concoction could be in each
No wonder why they call it liquid courage
Substances you could chug down in case you didn’t have any courage of your own
And in these situations, there was somehow always more to go around
Especially in the hands of someone drinking away their problems about a life that is
Against the mirror,
I see broken corners
pinches of warmth
and bottled ice.
A glass of sparkling cider
clinks across the room.
Deep within the black amnesias,
I nestle in perfect harmony with
the worldlessness of my selfhood.
WRITTEN BY: Prathami
A Poem By: AMANDA BUCHMAN
There is darkness-
And there is the will to see the night; to be it
A haven where creatures come to drink their tears,
For they were spilt in the morn
Guide them by the truest light
How small we were at first
Perhaps blissfully ignorant
and in matters of the world, unversed
Little eggs, unbeknownst to the reckoning-
The growth the not so distant future would bring
I sit at the peak of my rooftops’ ledge I breathe understandably at the sight of the moon alone.
I wave at the planets and universes above.
I know we’re more than just flesh and bone.
a poem written by Jackie Vandermel.
An original poem by Kiana Maria Message from the author: “I wrote this poem in the beginning of quarantine as a way for me to come to terms with the world around me. I went through a huge growing stage during the quarantine, and this poem resembles the beginning of my growth. This piece wasContinue reading “An Ode to the Outdoors”
The poem “Ribbon on a Gift” tells about the harsh treatment and hardships faced by models in the modelling industry behind every perfectly photoshopped picture on the internet. It speaks up about eating disorders and how body stereotyping affects the youth to believe that there is only one way of being beautiful.