Dell'Arte's Prison Arts Theatre Program: Zine Vol II

ZINE

Pelican Bay AIC Theatre Classes

Explorations in Playwriting and Inspired Writings 2022/2023 Vol. II

WELCOME BACK TO OUR ZINE This is the second volume of our zine and features the work of artists incarcerated at Pelican Bay State Prison and training with Dell'Arte International's Prison Arts Theatre Program. Program participants have responded in writing to prompts either given in class, a moment of inspiration after class, or have submitted something to share from their personal catalogue. It is our hope that you are in turn inspired to share what is inside of you.

Front cover image, "Lost in Color" by Adam Barker.

“The very reason I write is so that I might not sleepwalk through my entire life.” ― Zadie Smith

Thank you to CDCR and the Community Resource Manager's office, led by Robert Losacco, at Pelican Bay for approving this project. Dell'Arte's Prison Arts Theatre Program is sponsored by the California Arts Council and the California Department of Corrections and Rehabilitation.

CHARACTERS Writers imagine characters and create character descriptions.

Allen James Duncan

by Dank Soil 26 years old, from a bustling inner city (Utah/Salt Lake) by way of another world. A master alchemist/chemist. An experienced pilot, never married (no kids), has a pet octopus. Allen is funny, caring, loyal, kind, and secretive. If he were a plant, he would be cannabis - sticky, colorful, well-rooted with a hypnotizing aroma. He is short, has a square head, big feet, small hands, and is athletic.

Allen has an older sister, no mother or father (they are deceased) and a younger brother. He loves Sarah Anne. He has a job in sanitation and crime scene clean-up.

He gets along with his neighbor, Sal, the most because they share a passion for billiard (pool). Eric is his nemesis - the one he least gets along with in his life. Eric works hard at one-upping Allen in everyday tasks. His most important relationship is Sarah Anne. She keeps him grounded and is very supportive.

His living environment is rural with plenty of green vegetation and coastal shoreline.

He lives neat with a habit of collecting plants. He decorates his living space with cozy futons, bean bag cushions, lavender incense and open drapes. His favorite food is smoked trout and oysters. The movie "Once Upon a Time in America" is his favorite movie and "All I Want Is You" is his favorite song. His favorite color is violet.

He does not like hamburgers, "Peter Pan", the song "Milkshake", and the color silver.

He wears coveralls for job purposes - though most days he will be in shorts and a tshirt. When he dresses up, he wears a three piece suit - James Bond type apparel.

His biggest pet peeve is cigar smoke.

His biggest secret is that he is an alien from another world. He remembers eating chocolate mint icecream while sitting on the moon as a child. Not being able to return to his home world affects him today. He wants, more than anything, technology which powers his ship in order to return home. His ideal life is spending time with Sarah and traveling galaxies.

CHARACTERS CON'T

Giuzeppe Pirlo

by Harutyun "Snoopy" Abrahamyan He's a Sicilian man with deep and proud roots. Nothing is more important than family. His grandfather is highly respected, more like venerated, throughout the whole island. Giuzzepe looks up to his grandpa and they are very close. Zeppe is old Roberto's favorite grandchild.

They come from money and their wealth is quite substantial. When Giuzeppe was only 14, his father Dino, was murderd right in front of him by a hitman who had been hired by the Ravanellis, a rival family with whom they have a long standing, bloody vendetta. Guizeppe is deeply in love with having an extramarital (on her part) affair with their daughter, Conchita.

They have a secret love-child named Vincent. Giuzeppe is a part owner of FC Palermo.

Soccer is his passion. His grandpa taught him to be businesslike and serious. Also to be good and good for society.

If he was a car, he'd be an all black Audi A8 with red leather interior. If he was a type of weather, he'd be a 65% overcast, but warm day in late September. If he was an animal, he'd be a thoroughbred stallion.

He has kind of a serious sense of humor that catches people off-guard. He's very sharp, organized, and well put together. He is a gentleman. He could be surprisingly coldblooded at times. Loves soccer and the outdoors. He's an avid fisherman. Loves horses and dogs.

He is tall and kind of regal. He exudes authority. His movements are not wasted and his body language does not give away much, if anything (by design). He has short, dark, slicked back hair and wears glasses. He could pass for a top notch lawyer. His dress is very sharp and expensive. He moves with purpose. Is very handsome with sharp, manly features. Strong jawline. Smart eyes, big nose.

LIFE OF AN IMAGE

Writers use images to inspire writings.

Possible Titles for a Play by Samuel Nault "Cereal Milk" / "Hunger" / "Just the Two of Us" / "Cold and Old" / "Morning" / "Darkness Beneath" "Honey Bunches of Oats" / "I'm Late for School" / "I'm Going to Steal Something" / "Lactose Intolerant/Your tumor is growing on me" / "Fentenol" / "The Cold Kitchen"

"Herbert" A Character description and Monologue based on a person in the photo

by Samuel Nault From Boston, MA and lives in Boulder Creek, CA. He loves puzzles, painting, animals, guns and cereal. He works as a cashier at a hardware store and spends his time doing puzzles, housework, hunting, hiking, and working out. He dreams of building a new house. He moves with slow sure-footed steps and has a gorilla like posture. He loves his wife who is not very affectionate, but loving/caring in other ways. He also loves his late daughter, she was his light and joy. His deepest secret is that he killed the person who sold his daughter bad drugs and stole his money and buried it. If he were a car he would be an old Ford Bronco. If he were an animal, he would be a bear. If he were food he would be a steak, medium well. He thinks about his life a lot, his past, and how he can fix things or solves problems. He wants to live peacefully and to build a new house.

A memory he has is camping with his wife and daughter near the Yuba river. If someone found a box of photos he kept hidden away, they would find old pictures of him in the military and pictures of his wife and daughter.

"Cereal milk...People are like cereal milk.

We all start off as that cold, fresh, pure milky goodness. Until we're poured into a bowl of whatever the hell God has in store for us...You ever finish a bowl of cereal, and try to eat every little piece of it using only the spoon?

You can no longer separate the two - the cereal from the milk...

Don't get me wrong, I love cereal milk! (laughs). My baby girl...my beautiful baby girl, she was sweet.

But I'm talkin' bout life here...My life. And I've spent many years waking up to a big steamin' bowl of...(chuckles). Anyway, ain't nothin' sweet about that."

Photo by Sofia Aldinio

LIFE OF AN IMAGE CON'T LONESOME BANANA

by Adam Barker Lonesome banana drinks while he ponders Hoping to relieve his deep somber Gulping spirits only dulls his ache Temporarily forgetting heartbreak His sadness infects all those around The woman aside stares at the ground Tomorrow will come and joy he will chase It won't be found so a mask he will place Going on with his day he will smile This will only work for a short while A lonely world as a giant fruit Much to his dismay he wears no suit Knowing this truth he drinks even more If only he had help to close this door Are there other bananas sad like me Lost in his thoughts he reflects quietly The bartender declares last call Lonesome Banana heads home continuing his fall

Image by Beth Frey

LIFE OF AN IMAGE CON'T Memory Lane by Luis Gutierrez In this scene there are three friends that were raised from childhood. Regardless of their circumstances, they have always remained positive and together have made productive impacts in their lives. Their names are Leon being the eldest of the trio, Donatelo is the middle friend, and Alester being the youngest from the three.

The scene takes place in the remote town of Conjice. The time of the scene is in the morning (that's when the picture was taken). The story takes place in the 2022 era.

As it was accustomed in the tradition of the three friends, they run up the furthest and tallest mountain and back down the hill before sunrise. Leon, Alester, Donatelo knew the only difference from today.

Today the three friends would get married. Today a memorable memory would be made and their lives would never be the same. As they returned from their morning run they had a flix snapped by the local photographer. It was news to be married in a small town but to have three weddings in one day, it was big, historical big.

Photo by Adger Cowans

LIFE OF AN IMAGE CON'T Memory Lane by Luis Gutierrez (con't) Leon: Do you remember when we were 10 and went to that abandoned haunted hotel...

Alester: A the summit of the mountain.

Leon nods his head and Donatelo tilts his head in remembrance.

Alester: Isn't that the time when Donatelo got lost in the basement?

Leon and Alester both chuckle at the memory.

Donatelo: (pushing out his chest as if he was trying to save his ego and reputation) I wasn't lost, I was looking around to see if I would find a souvenir.

Leon: Yeah right, we heard the sniffling and calling for help. How else do you think we found you? Or were you calling to us to see the beautiful decor?

All three start laughing at the gestures Leon made.

Alester: Okay, I gotta question. If you had to describe our friendship, how would you do it?

Donatelo: We've known each other all of our lives. Definitely family.

Leon: Speak for yourself. I wasn't in your crowd for some time.

Alester: What a few months? Remember the time you tried to pet the lioness...

Everybody breaks out laughing at the memory.

Donatelo: Yeah you do. I know you do. Ooo who would ever forget. She almost dragged you out of the room and into her den.

The two friends laughed even louder as Leon started to grow three shades of skin color.

Alester: What were you thinking? Don't say you thought she was harmless.

Leon can't hold back so he cuts in first chance he gets.

LIFE OF AN IMAGE CON'T Leon: Yes, yes regardless if the lioness is raised in captivity, or the wild, she will always be wildlife. I get it, I'll always be it's caretaker. You know how many times I've heard this?

Alester: Not enough my friend, since we fam and all, not enough.

Donatelo: Yeah, you'll have to hear it a whole lot more. Just wait and see.

The three friends laugh because they know it's true.

Alester: What about Don? Oh yeah we got a good one on you.

Donatelo: Yeah right, what is it? The time I got stuck in the well?

Leon: Oh yeah, this is a good one. Eh Don, you sure remember it.

Alester: Of course he knows, trust me on that...Once upon a time there was a young woman, this young woman would get her water from the well downtown, that's when a young Donatelo thought he was smooth and confident and determined. It just never would work for him, he did everything.

Leon: Just didn't know that deep down the young woman had grown fond of the young lad. It weighed on her to know that this young man's heart would never be corresponded. Her standings were extremely complicated to simply try to explain. If she did attempt it, it would only ignite this young man's fire further more.

Alester: Donatelo recited a quote, the reading is from the 14th century by Hafiz, "Don't surrender your loneliness so quickly. Let it cut more deep. Let it ferment and season you as few humans or even divine ingredients can. Something missing in my heart tonight has made my eyes so soft. My voice so tender. My need of God absolutely clear."

Leon: The young miss looked at herself in the mirror and felt a heartache at the thoughts if her parents found out she was dabbling with the maids clothes and affairs outside the house she would be in trouble. She asked herself, what does this lad see in me? I'm past the age of marriage...wonder grew in her mind as to how this would ever work out. It wouldn't. Her destiny had already been chosen by her ancestors. She had been spoken for and it was final. Both her sisters hand't brought a boy. So now it was her duty to do so. She walked across her room so elegantly decorated with all the wonders of the world she had chosen. Opened the delicately slim door to her balcony and walked on out. Looking out at the green pastures that surrounded her fortress, she wondered, and knew there was one solution to her problem. She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply to take in the scent of freshly bloomed lavender and lilacs in the garden below.

LIFE OF AN IMAGE CON'T Alester: As he approached the watering well he noticed the familiar standing there looking over the well.

Without hesitation, she looked at him and said, "My lady sends this", handed the envelope to the young man and left.

Donatelo: Yes, it was heartbreaking and very difficult to realize that it's not going to be.

Leon: Oh yes, poor D-man didn't eat well. Didn't sleep, in a state of being rejected. It's not an easy stage to get over. Yes it was his first heartbreak so it made it all that worse.

Donatelo: It's been the toughest experience that has happened to date. Never knew it felt like that. I only wanted to know her. Yet, never knew how it would affect me. I guess life has some difficult experiences and it matters that we count on our resources to overcome what we go through.

Alester: Don't worry Donatelo we won't let your future wife be the one to break your heart.

Leon: I'm sure that she knows you love her and she you. Just be cool and don't worry about that.

Alester: Yes, your marriage will be good, prosperous, and always full of love. Remember that a great man once said it best, "Experience is a hard teacher because she gives the test first and the lesson afterwards".

So remember that to know how much there is to know is the beginning of learning to live. Why don't we end this talk and we all make a pact to always forget and move forwards for a better tomorrow.

THE END.

Image on right by Luis Gutierrez

Inspired Poems & Musings Eyes of Sorrow

by Paul Latanzio Moma

by Derek Adam Moma please don't go. I beg you I know I messed up. It wasn't my intent.

I beg you to see past my mistakes and Look forward to my future choices.

Moma don't leave me. I need you.

I'm so sorry that I disappointed you I don't know what to do without you.

You were by my side every time I needed hugs, kisses, and love.

Moma! You know I love you.

Life isn't the same without you.

Moma! Where have you gone?

Please come back Moma!

Please come back?

As I stare deep, deep into those eyes, I realize, our pain is the same, grief and sorrow, burdensome to those we love, I see it in your face, the pain you're going through, the one we can't erase.

Your eyes tell a story, a nightmare lived with fame and glory, how can this be, if there's so much pain I see, in those eyes of grief.

As I stare into those eyes, I can feel what you feel, that's the power of misery.

As our eyes meet, contact fades, I blink, reality sets in, I hear a voice from afar, I pull away from the mirror, so that I can get ready for yard.

Where do you Stand?

by Derek Adam You're at the end of the road For what is seen, now splits in two But only one you know you may go What is to see is sand and the other is land Sand what feels to have a pull Land what hears to have a call All isn't what it seems Only on where you care to stand Where do you stand? Pick your path!

Stand on holy land or sinful sand.

Something Inside

by Samuel Nault A chill stirs me awake, as I hear the hum of a metal door unlock.

The electric whirr, snapping to a stop.

The sound of keys clatter as a blue orb dances into my cell - illuminating the walls.

In a flash, the orb is fixed on me, slashing at my pupils with razor blades of white light.

The violence, not real...Gone in an instant.

My bleeding eyes are restored once the orb has passed.

My icy bones beg me not to move, but I brave the dark coldness of reality every morning.

I'm not too far removed from the days when something deep inside would tell me to just lay here for eternity.

Who is this insidious adversary, rendering me motionless, bound in their agonizing shadow of whispers?

Is it the collective voice of trauma, or just the echo of my insecurities?

Depression, anxiety, and loneliness, incite a quiet riot of love and hate that surge into an overwhelming flood of emotions down into the pit of my stomach.

The pain is a rising swarm of bees in my chest.

Who sting my throat swollen shut.

I cannot speak.

No one else can taste the salt, but me. There is no remedy, not even a spoonful of the sweetest honey - I hate that about myself.

Why do I cling to the anchor made of guilt and loss, to all of the people who break my heart daily?

Soaking in sorrow, the ceiling disappears, and I see the stars for the very first time - trusting the currents that set me adrift, buoyant on salt water seas.

I let go of the thick rope soaked in blood, ripe with the pain of the torn flesh of my palms.

Free from the anchor, I can feel the waves wash over me.

After awhile, the water isn't as frigid.

I can feel sand in my hair, and I can hear the oscillating sound of waves crashing against the shore.

As pink dye bleeds into the opaque water colors of dawn, the tenebrous sky burns away.

I imagine tendrils of steam rising from the sodden earth below, while the youthful sun brushes beautiful strokes of fresh, vibrant hues of green against the redwood trees.

The walls that surround me cannot be moved, and time will not fast forward or rewind.

So I am at peace with my stillness, and the motion of forces around me.

The push and pull of tides, and the magnetism of attraction, and light.

Staying present and grateful for the rhythmic beat of my heart, the harmonious rise and fall of my chest, and the cool tingle in my nostrils - the essence of life, that moves me through being.

Who can master the complexity of navigating this ephemeral existence without grieving the death of each passing moment, or waiting in painful anticipation for the next?

Why do we stare at faded photographs...stuck, time traveling through the shattered windows of our memories, hopes, fears, and dreams?

Picture me now as I move with lightness and grace.

Summer laughter briefly interrupted by the reminder of my scars.

In a moment's glance, the wisdom of nature ever-present in the form of a dark figure mimicking every movement I make.

My smile returns, in recognition that the darkness is just me, knowing I not longer have to hide my shadow in the shade of silence.

The silouhette of my pain doesn't shape me, rather I shape it...and one day it will be gone, when I take us home to rest forever, looking back - only to see how far I truly have come...

Now it is my door that buzzes to life.

I'm reminded of the bees, and the taste of salt.

But I don't fear the sting, or the pain, because the bees have turned to butterflies - a feeling I've come to love.

Setting them free, into the world...I free myself.

Those wild butterflies...

The movement within me - something inside -taking me here and there, but most importantly, to places I've never dreamed of.

A Merry Heart

by Horacio Abdiel Jafit Rios A merry heart makes a cheerful countenance.

The light of the eyes rejoices the heart And a good word, makes the bones healthy.

Pleasant work, are like a honeycomb Sweetness to the soul, and health to the bones.

A merry heart does good like medicine.

Your lips are just like the top lid of the container Of this wonderful medicine.

Death and life are in the power of the tongue The container is your heart, and I feel your heart in mine.

You are my medicine, just like I would like to be for you.

Thank you for your words, thank you for giving me health.

With love, thank you for marrying me.

You are my merry heart.

Dedicated to God and my lovely wife.

Lost Boy

by Arthur Ramos Every night she lies in bed Every night a single tear she sheds I think of my mother who doesn't know Her Sons a criminal.

Her little boy who played and laughed Now thinks evil thoughts and destroys his path.

Her little boy who sat and listened Now at least once a night goes on a mission.

So please forgive me for the pain I've caused But most of all, forgive me for the little boy you lost.

"Who I am"

By Derek Adam I am from ancient times around the globe From wide areas of vast grasslands and cold climate.

I am from the 3rd and last geologic epoch development of mammals And my breathing is a force that binds everything in the universe.

I am from a time where sight and smell is the need.

From where it gives me life to live.

I am from a non-ordinary state of perception And I possess such unbending intent that I'm not extinct.

I am from"various cats" And I closely resemble the tiger.

From my family is as I I am from a massive body, shorter legs & tail And long, curved upper canine teeth.

I am from a time where we hunt as one or none And I understand all that is said, but know fear best.

I am food is best uncooked once got From what I know is 'cause I've watched and seen.

I am from the moment of survival And a place of knowledge.

I am from through dreams from sleep From transferred through your awareness is where I'll be And the seers of this lineage is total freedom.

Who I am is the saber tooth tiger.

"If I Was a Love Poet"

By Erik Rodriguez I'm going to be honest, I'm not a love poet.

In fact every time I try to write about love my hands cramp just to show me how painful love can be and sometimes my pencil breaks just to prove to me love takes a little more work than you planned.

You see I heard that love is blind, so I write all my poems in braille and my poems are never actually finished because true love is endless.

I believe that true love is kinda like a super model before she's airbrushed, pure and imperfect just the way God intended...

You see I'm not really a love poet...

But if I was to wake up tomorrow morning and decide I really wanted to write about love, I swear that my first poem...it would be about you...

About how I loved you the same way I learned how to ride a bike, scared and reckless with no helmet, or elbow pads so my scars can tell the story of how I fell for you. You see I'm not really a love poet.

But if I was...

I'd write about how I see your face in every cloud and your reflection in every window. You see, I'd write about how I wish you were here right now because if you were, I'd massage your back until your skin sung songs that your lips don't even know the words to, until your heart beat sounds like my last name and you smile is like the Pacific Ocean. I want to drink the sunlight in your skin.

If I was a love poet...

I'd write about how your eyelashes are like violin strings that play symphonies every time you blink and how you have the audacity to be beautiful even on days when everything around you is ugly...

I swear I'm not a love poet, but if I was to wake up tomorrow morning and decide I really wanted to write about love, my first poem would be about you...

And after all that she was like "How do you feel about me??"

I said...I want to be your ex-boyfriend's stuntman, I want to do everyting he never had the courage to do, like trust you...

I swear that when our lips touch I can taste the next sixty years of my life and some days I want to swallow pictures of you just so you can be a part of me for a little bit longer.

If I could I would sample your smile and then I would let my heart beat to the base line so we could create the greatest love song of all time.

You can be ooh child when I'm in pain and I can be your candycoated drops of rain. Eventhough it never rains in Southern California and together we can be music. When my friends ask if you're my girlfriend, I'll so no...

She's my musician, and me...I'm her favorite song. Your know you're in love when you can't fall asleep...because your reality is finally better than your dreams.

The Man Behind the Mask

By Benny Scaiano As I take time to reflect I have come to the realization, although I did not grow up under the best of circumstance, I have been provided with many opportunities to become successful. It is not that I did not have the potential but rather I never fully acknowledged it...In a state of brokenness, having ambition and no sense of direction.

A reality of an unfortunate and humbling beginning, I eventually became accustomed with and content with failure...but a part of me always believed that I deserved better, and I desired success.

Becoming a distant memory of a troubled past, I am not out of sight and out of mind. I who was once so capable blessed with talents and abilities...begin to learn the error of my ways, living a lonely existence and full of regret! Lost and later then found. Regardless, I remain hopeful, patient, encouraged, inspired, and motivated. I am content, but not complacent.

Passionately preparing for my eventual return. With this in mind, I remain focused on the task of making amends, seeking forgiveness, on the path of redemption. In the pursuit of life and liberty.

Overcoming all odds and surviving expectation. The past is still with me. I am concious of the hurt I have caused, empathy, compassion, remorse, and sorrow...My eyes opened providing visual clarity, breath in my lungs, tasting victory! I ascend above smoke, and ashes...my wounds have healed and my bleeding begins to stop. There is no more locked doors and no more cops! The cuffs off me now, the prison gates opened, "Wow!" I become aware of the endless possibilities, a world filled with opportunities. Full of anticipation, moving forward without hesitation. A lifetime of crime behind me, seen and experienced so much it is blinding...My past has no place as I remove the mask from my face. I am aware and percieve of what is ahead. I catch the essence of my epic future. As I "CrossFit" until my heart splits, I pave a new path and I will not look back...

Elevating beyond and transcending boundaries expelling the fear, doubts and tragedy.

Disappearing, reappearing in the light and comprised of multiple facets of complexity, "eccentric diversity". Even scars begin to fade rewriting my own narrative contemplating responsible decisions yet to make. Envisioning fate and destiniy in utopia, I will create...

True Story

by Paul Latanzio Let me tell you a story, about a place called purgatory.

It's neither Heaven or Hell, It's a place called prison, in a crammed up cell.

Where tortures as casual as routine, Where life once lived, is nothing but a dream.

In this truth, the catacomb I dwell in, can only set us free.

Yes, I pay the price for perfidy, since malevolent and malicious foes surround me. Where change doesn't come easy.

Where it's all the same routine and the same proprietor, Where extreme boredom produces a catatonic stupor.

Where I was just existing, but now in living, To what could be.

Crow I sit here now with the last of my story,

by Adam Barker Afraid to go, because I feel, Maybe I'll disappear back into purgatory.

I am from the unbound sky from the crowns of trees I am from shimmering stars on the black night and beauty I am from the sun's warm embrace from the encompassing seasons I am from the warning caw and friendships I am from lasting companionships and love from kept secrets I am from spoken stories and growing together I am from trickery and lonely songs that break the silences from listening I am from ancient rituals and stoic stares I am from magic from teaching and playful dance

"Crow" by Adam Barker

"Who I am"

By Eloy Greigo

"Who I Am"

By Bryon Argueta

I am from South Cali, the City of Valinda From hills and streams I am from Los Angeles County And ranches and gardening I am from giving my family food From I have my own home I am from buying fruits and vegetables And I can show my kids how to keep the tradition I am from never been afraid to ask for help And you are stronger together From unified I am from trustworthiness and hard work And if work needs to be done in a home or side job I am from they're selfless, their doors are always open And English/Spanish I am from Greece and Italy From someone that speaks it I am from help with community projects And maintaining land I am from having farmer's rights once a month From I reading and watching shows And keep teaching those who are interested

I am from Africa From desert and jungle and floods of the Nile River I am from a group of hunters And I am a king in my own place I am from protection From strength And caring and helping to grow I am from unity And we do everything together From water, food, sunrise I am from strength And leadership I am from we need protection And spanish I am from inoseté From reading and books I am from speaking more And Maya I am from clothes, food, toys From making clothes and toys And making my own company Who I am is Maya, clothes, toys, and Africa

I am Ninja

by Benny Scaiano All I ever wanted was to find "love"...but instead I died looking for it! Betrayal was ever so kind, I couldn't even recognize death while I stared it in the face. Slain like a "Roman" pierced in the heart by a double bladed katana, I lie face up as I peer into the eyes of my demise. She has a crimson red silk scarf around her neck, adorned and draped in the most elegant fitted black hooded dress with leather heeled tactical boots, "red bottoms"..."she walked all over me". I was so vulnerable while I fell victim to her deception and trickery! They say beauty is in the eye of the beholder. Oh, how my heart gets colder as I grow older. I call her "lady death", but she was the..."Grim Reaper"! ... She became the death of me, the Ninja's only defeat. In a puddle of my own blood, I was drained of my "soul", in death we were united. I was rejuvenated. I became a celestial being..."Phantom of Death".

Hell, fallen like a "Spartan" for messing with "Harlots"! Changed forever, I meditate on a vision, as I'm taught a valuable lesson. "I chose to die, because I couldn't change to save my life!" In death, I became so raw, something more like a "Demi-god" everybody take a seat - sit back, and applaud! I remember when I first encountered death, she tried to take my head with her scythe, she swung, I ducked, and then she missed. She was so vicious, but I was game, I lived for the challenge because (you already know). "I'm insane!" Countering her attacks as I threw a spear at a "demon" without fear.

Then I saw the rection of "Medusa" in the mirror. So for better or worse, I pursued love, although I didn't have a clue as to what I was giving up? All that managed to survive was my inner conciousness, even now it haunts my thoughts to think of this. As I became aware, and to my surprise the pain and anguish of a lifetime of suffering ended in horror, but it brought me peace!

Once so brave, filled with courage, very heroic, and poetically stoic. The only battle this Ninha ever lost was the "spiritual battle within". It was a date with destiny that sealed my fate! Like Bruce Lee once said, "The key to immortality is...living a life worth remembering." So in their memories I will live on, trapped in their heads like their favorite song. As I lay dying on cold concrete, I acknowledge in blood from my head to my feet, I begin to suffocate...I can no longer breath! In my final moment of darkness, I reach out to death for solace. She grabs my hand with a quick embrace. I begin to feel her emotions of love and hate. So I ask her why must Ninja die today? With a grimace and a sneer she says, "You died long ago, you died yesterday, and you would die - tomorrow. You see life is so precious it's not something you can borrow. I needed you to recognize how important it is to live in the moment, time is always fleeting, now you're stricken down bleeding!" "How much more does life matter when you're dying?" Death is so ghoulish, death was so foolish, and the situation becomes

critical, my decisions are pivotal. As I begin to get back up, before my times up, and as I do I remember I am more than the "Man behind the Mask". I am also the "Lion"... My eyes become a flame, "all turnt up". All I see is the color red, "resurrection", and back from the dead! Maximum effort like I'm "Dead Poole", just so sorry I ever met you.

Death looks upon me with shock, then glances at her clock, death's time is done, the Legend had enough. Refusing to lose and with a series of moves, Death is dealt fatal blows, her reign is over as she falls...Ninja stands over death and finds purpose in combat. Like a "nomad" I begin to wander.

While death was cast down six feet, becoming ancient history! It appears as though for a moment I have captured immortality, at least until death recovers (ignorance is bliss). Death took her stab at me, I survived, I guess she missed? Even scars begin to fade, forget all the times I was wounded and hit.

Parts of me have died but I'm still alive all ripped up because I am split! More than that I'm even torn, still filled with ambition, desire, and passion. Searching for purpose while lost and abandoned... A Ninja brought to the brink of death in shame, recovering what's lost, restoring my name - "surrounded by flames!" Envisioning and channeling new beginnings working towards improvements, and winning.

Sometimes life gets hard, embrace the struggle in pursuit of greatness, every day is an opportunity to make an impact. Always moving forward never willing to back track. Fallen like a star, off the grid, different planet, another map. Born into existence only to die, flirting with death, damn there's nothing left...

I'm giving it my all, coming out guns a blazing like a commando, camoflauged bandana like Rambo.

I'm slinging Ninja stars, joy riding Bugatti, Lambo, and Ferrari cars, speed dating in clubs, lounges, and sports bars. "Crossfitting" with jump ropes, I like big trucks, with my nunchucks. Skydiving, parachute landings, combat training and I'm riding dirt bikes. Wielding light sabers, I carry laser guns packing punches in bunches, and combos with kicks. I wear gold grills as I pop pills, I bust moves, in design. I'm from back then, the present, and the future! Ever so passionate in a strait jacket, I'm so ugly, yet so handsome. I'm cold then I'm hot. I'm there until I'm not. Something like a rockstar or maybe more like a "trap god". I'm like Batman, not Robin. Superman not Clark Kent. I'm neither good nor evil, not light or darkness, maybe somewhere stuck in between? I'm all cut up from a straight blade, never early but always late. A mastermind, I'm one of a kind. Already gone on my Kawasaki. Off street racing on a Hayabusa and Harley. "Everybody say goodbye to the life of the party"...In the end , even in death, all that I am and ever will be is a...Ninja!

Image by Andre Magone

Contributing Artists: Samuel Nault Benny Scaiano Arthur Ramos Dank Soil Horacio Rios Derek Adam Adam Barker Paul Latanzio Erik Rodriguez Andre Magone Luis Gutierrez Eloy Griego Bryon Argueta Harutyun "Snoopy" Abrahamyan AIC Teachers: Janessa Johnsrude & Samantha Williams-Gray