VIVA 2015 Literary Magazine
Magazine Sponsors Mrs. Stacy Gonzalez Mrs. Jennifer Walden
“Poetry is the art of creating imaginary gardens with real toads.� -Marianne Moore
VIVA 2014—2015 Poets “Delia”……………………………………9 Serina Fernandez……………………...6,16 Jose Hernandez…………………………...7 Holden Hopkins………………………..3,6 “Isaiah Ficenec-Keys & NamTran Hopkins”………………..15
“Luis”…………………………………...16 Annika Montalvo…………………………2 Sabrina Olivarez………………………3,16 Orlando Perez…………………………….8 Alyssa Ramos…………………………….8
Artists Amber Alvarado………………………...21 Antonio Aguas…………………………..22 Gina Barrera…………………………10,13 Emily Benkendorfer…………………..4,18 Dominique Benamu…………………….12 Allison Cantu…………………………4,19 Mikaela Cantu………………………….4,7 Elena Contreras……………………...16,19 Juan Delagarza………………………….11 Emma Drumright……….1,19, Front Inside m Cover Brooke Dunn………………………...13,18 Nicholas Ficenec………………………..13 Celestina Gonzalez...16, Back Inside Cover Madelyn Guerra………………………...14 Jonathan Hawn…………………………...5
Yasmin Hernandez………………………17 Cassandra Huff………………………..7,18 Kylie Heitzenrater…………………...10,22 Priyanka Kar………………20, Back Cover Rachel Kim……………………………….9 Seth Korenek………………………...11,12 Valkyrie Mata…………………………...13 Matthew Moffitt………………………….9 Shazia Nooruddin…………………...2,5,15 Mary Obregon……………………………4 Teresa Priour…………………………..8,12 Gwyneth Schuster………………………...5 Sam Susser………………..11, Front Cover Emily Trevino…………………………..2,6 Frances Williamson……………………..10 Robert Williamson…………………….3,22
“Painting is silent poetry, and poetry is painting that speaks.” -Plutarch
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Artwork by Shazia Nooruddin
“Emotion”
This is a poem about emotion, Including the good, the bad, and the in between. The ones welcome to be felt, And the ones fighting to reach the surface. Emotion is a state of consciousness, always evolving, constantly pushing, pulling, fighting for its right to be felt. It’s greedy, stealing far more time than it deserves, creating ripples in the perfect scenery of your mind. Emotion’s darkest side is aggressively patient, revealing itself at the most inopportune times. It will attack you, devour you, then spew you out, leaving you empty, raw, unstable enough to go forward. But Emotion’s brightest side will open your eyes. It will fly you through countless galaxies. It will heal your mind and soul. It will give you freedom. So I will advise you that emotion, like people, will come and go. It will give you pain, and it will give you joy. But the greatest gift emotion will ever give you is freedom. -Annika Montalvo
Artwork by Emily Trevino
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“The Warriors of Yesteryear” On sanguine plains of flesh and blood, White-clad, pure, the gallant guardians charged. They stand for us. For dappled rays on foreign shores, Where lonely sparrows flock in stony death. What cry rings out, that shadowed star? Growing tall in fire. I, Purely stained with ears untrained to see What rests beneath, what thundering sorrow Of soaring stone and freezing flame And people grow, with nary a nameYearning, yearning ever yearning.
Knows all, thinks none, remembers less Time is a starving steed of ash and dust, Desire its humbled chauffeur And all roads lead to Rhodes, This the turtle dove sings. General’s men and cats off ships Laughing whips, searching bullets Prod the burning night for Whistled shrieks and whispered melodies: Fleeting fear and flying flight In a sheltered grotto of destined might; Why then? A scoop of sugared lies. -Holden Hopkins
“Alaska” The cool, dry air swifts. A cub loses its mother. It’s our last frontier. -Sabrina Olivarez
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Artwork by Robert Williamson
Emily Benkendorfer
Allison Cantu
Mikaela Cantu
Mary Obregon
4
Jonathan Hawn
5
Gwyneth Schuster
Shazia Nooruddin
“The Postman’s Lament” Artwork by Emily Trevino
Up and down the blocks I walk, Past fallen bikes and children’s chalk. Through pouring rain, through sleet and snow, The sun’s warm glow, I never know. With heavy bag and heavier heart, I linger briefly, and soon depart. Onwards! Onwards! The post waits for none! When my day is over, it’s not yet begun. Parting is the greatest sorrow; Letters today, and more tomorrow. Each delivery- a knife upon my soul Their words are empty, mailboxes full. This burden is mine alone to bear, Upon battered shoulder- with scream and tear! They say the heart lies in the home But I have none-doomed to always roam.
“You,me,them” Once
For the mailman must carry only lies and wind-
it was I
Tormented toil that shall never end.
Now you, them, all
-Holden Hopkins
I leave behind those times when the ink told tales so tall because you them all -Sirena Fernandez
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Artwork by Mikaela Cantu
“Space” It’s a dark and unforgiving place. If you don’t follow orders, your buddy may freeze and shatter to waste.
“Outer Space” I float lifelessly. I stare at its beauty The Earth from space. - Jose Hernandez
“Poison” My life was a gift that I wanted to return It’s filled with poison. -Anonymous
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Artwork by Cassandra Huff
Artwork by Teresa Priour
“Unlocked the Cranium Box” Pardon the visual effects of my Dixon, Perhaps the graphics of my graphite on the parchment Could be neater; dexterous pen craft. But on to irrelevant matters. It’s currently a stormy day in the enlightened land of Cerebrum, And with such an unembellished yet incomprehensible, Complex philosophy. I live in the next era of lost souls, Among the masses of ignorant adolescents who have become much too secular, And have lost vision of their Very own perception! Woe To the unfortunate arrogant bodies Who claim to have their annotations, But have been reading the wrong Book. Personally, with arrogance you get ignorance.
Just an old soul writing a new script. Intellectual adaptation is a favorite in my psychological arsenal. And Ms. Stevens, this class is a war zone. -Orlando Perez
“Advanced Gamer or Beginner” Love is like a game. Sometimes you gotta know how to play instead of being the one getting played. Always think like a pro gamer. -Alyssa Ramos
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Artwork by Rachel Kim
“My Mother Now and Forever” Still hard to believe you’re gone, Though I knew it wouldn’t be long. It seems like only yesterday That I was shocked with grief and sadness And knew I had to pray. But as the days have healed the shock They failed to remove my heart’s empty spot. For almost 63 years you were my mom. Then on the Sunday before you departed I decided against stopping by your room If only I’d known your departure was coming soon! I must admit I felt the guilt That’s the main reason I had to have your quilt. I now know why they’re sometimes called “comforters” because when the sorrow gets a hold of me.. I get a hold of it with comforting feelings of “her”! Artwork by Matthew Moffitt
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Such pleasant memories brought to my heart… With promises that we will never part!! Love you mom!!! -Your daughter Delia
Francis Williamson
Kylie Heitzenrater
Gina Barrera
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Sam Susser
Seth Korenek
Juan Delagarza
11
Emma Drumright
Seth Korenek
Teresa Priour
Dominique Benamu
Dominique Benamu
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Gina Barrera
Brooke Dunn Valkyrie Mata
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Nicholas Ficenec
“It’s Only Temporary” It's only temporary
If only these adults could
Everything is temporary
The rescue being made
Peer inside you
When they get to see them again
And glimpse
The next day
They say What you're feeling now?
Simply because the words
Temporary
The abhorrence
What you're experiencing now?
“It's only temporary”
The repulsiveness
Temporary
Was smothered with
The paralysis
What you're dealing with now?
“I'm here”
That surrounds your mind
Temporary
-Anonymous
From the morning hours waking up
The ringing echoes of adults claiming
To only remind yourself
“It's only temporary”
Why another day should exist
Exacerbating the misery
To night embracing your bed
You already ache inside
To only remind yourself
A plague of something so menacing
Why another day shouldn't exist
You can only begin to pinpoint
If only these adults could then
The root of the panic metastasizing
Have the audacity to tell you
Within you
It's only temporary
However
Although
They continue to bombard you
They are right
With this idea
That the dread you feel now
With this conviction
Is not the same dread
That what you are feeling
You will feel tomorrow
This cloud of dejection
Instead of reiterating
This birthed worthlessness
From an apathetic system
This sense of fractured dignity
That teaches children that
Is all only temporary
Everything being temporary
Artwork by Madelyn Guerra
As if this cavity within you Is something that can be mended By a few words from
Is the backbone to happiness
A meaningless procedure
Following a set of rules
Constructed by those whom insist
That dismisses empathy and love
Children do not comprehend the hardships
And enforces fixed expectations
Of the real world
Correct that aching misery
Rather than attempting to They should focus on
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“I Am the Greatest – Opus No. 56” I am the greatest
One ring
Keep me cool
Hope Solo
On field
To rule them all.
Billie Jean King
Rivers with a Bolo
Off field
Emmit Smith
Infield
Fishing
Mikey Phelps
Outfield
Threw a hook
Breathing helps
Where is home?
Right hook
To survive
I’m better
…plate
Uppercut
Off the high-dive
OJ is innocent
Just kidding
On my lip
Red eyes
Or is he?
I know where it is.
Chlorine
Put me in, Coach
May the weather be nice
I’m ready to play
Man(ny) I hope so
It ruins clothes
-“Isaiah FicenecKeys & NamTran Hopkins”
Today
One fish
Center Field.
Two fish
Mustard
Knockout?
On my sandwich
You wish!
Carbohydrates
I’m back Running back
Smith & Weston
No bleach
Saturday morning
From the grave
Call me the great one
Cartoons
Charging back
Gretsky
TMNT
Ladanian Tomlinson
Flying cross the ice
I’m dynamite
Quarterback
Jet-Ski
I’ll win the fight
To the bank
Take a shot
Slow and steady
Cornerback
Nothing but net
Empty tank
Rimless
Vince Young
Getting tired
Glasses
Patrick Chung
Held back
Look sleek
Tom Brady
First grade
No Contacts
Venus the lady
Aced it
Sports
Torry Holt
Andy Murray
Safety first
Usain Bolt
One goal
But I’m first
McCoy comma Colt
Gatorade
Akwasi Owusu-Ansah
For my thirst
Dan Bailey
Better call Saul One life
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Get a wife Buckets For my fans
Raborn, Bailey Pele
Artwork by Shazia Nooruddin
“Flying” A summer morning. Clear sky is silent and blue. The soundless bird flies. -Serina Fernandez
“Untitled” There is a cool bird that makes your words fly so high It’s name is Twitter. -Luis Artwork by Elena Contreras
“Sahara” The desert has no owner. It belongs to itself with all of its members. The desert has no person to occupy it, but no person to leave it. -Sabrina Olivarez
Artwork by Celestina Gonzalez
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“Untitled” I’m snooping through my dad’s room and come across a dusty wooden box. It looks different than the cardboard ones, so I’m tempted to open it. There’s a lock. Dad taught me some of his tricks. In a few seconds, I had it picked and open. What I saw inside would change my life forever. The first things I see are pictures of dad with Al Capone, shaking hands and posing for the shot. He must have been a part of his businesses. I knew Dad was a mobster, but that’s the extent of it. As I keep searching through, I notice a small handgun, well-worn, with the engraving “MGK”. As I reached the last layer of contents, I heard footsteps coming towards the room. There wasn’t time to get out, so I slid under the bed and put boxes in front of me. But there’s more than one set of footsteps. The door opens and I hear male voices—one is my dad’s, the others I don’t recognize. Their conversation has already begun, but I pick up them discussing a situation in Queens. A package had been compromised and the DEA was hot on the trail. Someone had squealed. Time to take care of some rats. I heard a pistol being loaded, and my dad said he’d carry out the hit. Easy work. Fearing for Dad’s life, I followed him to see what he was doing. They stopped at a bar. Two envelopes were exchanged and quickly tucked inside of coats. A man at the bar spotted them and fired shots. My dad ran to the car, quickly opened the trunk, and pulled out two Tommy guns from the cache. He noticed me behind the car. No time to be bad. He tossed me a gun. “You know what to do, Vinny.” My ears popped as a storm of bullets were exchanged. My eyes were closed the whole time I was shooting. When the bullets stopped, I saw my dad emerge from the smoke with a bloody hand. I’d realize later that it wasn’t his blood, but his partner’s. He inspected the body and noticed that one of the envelopes had been taken. We’d been shot at and now had a missing envelope in the hands of the thief. He jumped in the car to track down the thief, who had to be on foot. Alley after alley, block after block, but the Buick was not nimble enough for the tight turns and dark alleys. The trail grew cold. Dad had no option but to call this in to the boss. A week went by and we got details about a rival gang staking out in a nearby apartment, just outside our stronghold in the Bronx. After the shootout, the Godfather gave me more responsibility. I had to prove myself, but he knew who I was then. I had to prove my worth to the family. A couple years have passed by without my father, who took a tricky job that was originally assigned to me and didn’t make it out. This knocked me down in rank and I had to prove myself even more than in the beginning. I had been recruiting more members to help with the assassination of the head of the Falcone family—which wouldn’t be an easy task. They had more money than us, and they’d been watching our every move. Eventually we grew tired, so we presented a treaty. What they didn’t know is that it was a set up to end this mission once and for all. The mission was successful, but we were now the biggest family and threat in New York, putting us on the Fed’s radar even more than ever. -Anonymous
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Artwork by Yasmin Hernandez
Brook Dunn
Emily Benkendorfer
Cassandra Huff
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Allison Cantu
Elena Contreras
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Emma Drumright
“This is not what it looks like…” …the scary man they called Freaky Frank said while holding a butcher knife with blood. He had just gotten home after a long day of work. Artwork by Priyanka Kar Nobody knows where John is, and he hasn’t been seen in eight days after going missing at a party. John was last seen flirting with Frank’s girlfriend. Frank had been looking for him the past few days. I held the gun up to his chest and asked, “Is there another victim to look for?” He didn’t respond right away. Finally, he mumbled, “I know nothing.” John’s best friend then shoved Frank. Frank asked his name. “Ermond.” “I had nothing to do with John going missing. I was also looking for him. The only reason I’m around here is because I let him borrow some knives for hunting,” Frank replied. Ermond was still curious and searched through Frank’s house. He found locks of hair about three inches long and remembered that Frank has short hair and lives alone. Ermond was not surprised at all—he knew something didn’t seem right about Frank. Ermond heard loud banging coming from a closet. Opening it quickly, he stepped back as a fat rat ran over his feet. Frank looked at Ermond with disgust because he knew he was innocent. Someone was at the front door. It was a cop notifiying Frank that a body was found in a ditch on his property. “Ermond, we found your DNA at the crime scene.” “That’s impossible! Whose body is it?” The victim was a woman in her mid-twenties to thirties. Frank hadn’t seen his girlfriend in three days. Shortly thereafter, he is informed that it’s his girlfriend, Susan. In sadness, Frank throws a lamp across the room. He looks at Ermond. “Why is your DNA at the scene?” Ermond doesn’t reply. Both men are taken in for questioning. Neither knew what to say. The cop slapped them around and they both finally gave in. Nobody had known that Ermond and John were behind the killing the whole time or that Ermond knew were John was. They were trying to frame Frank for it. Frank was curious and went to his girlfriend’s house. Nobody answered, so he used the hidden spare key. It was time to look for clues. He found something strange under the couch: her phone. When he opened it, the whole situation made sense. -Anonymous
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“Untitled”
“I’m in the same line of work as your father.”
One day, while playing hide and seek with my sis“Does Dad know?” ter, I noticed a crack in the wall. Of course, I had to check it out. I peeked in and saw light coming through. “No. We work for rival teams.” Trying to get a better view, I pushed on the wall. Sudden“How did this happen?” ly, the wall opened by itself with a mechanical sound. I KABOOM! Just then, the door flies off. had to check this out, so I quickly stepped inside—my sister was still hiding, anyway. What I saw would change Men come barging in. I hear my dad’s voice among my life forever. The room was filled with diabolical the others. weapons used for torture and assassination. I knew my “Lisa? What are you doing here? Are you ok?” dad killed for a living, but he left work at work. Of “Yes, David, I’m fine.” course, we told the school that my dad is a contractor on the information form. “You know her?” another guy asks. This discovery made me even more curious about “My wife.” his real job. I had to know more. After bedtime, I quietly “Dad! Help me!” tiptoed out to the garage and hid in the back of his white Chevrolet Silverado. There was a canvas bed in the “Son!” toolbox that provided me with the perfect cover. The “Stand back, David!” toolbox lid opened, scaring me awake, and I felt something heavy land on top of me. Must be his “work tools”. Just then, a fight breaks out between everyone in The truck started to roll, and I knew we were on our way. the room. David tries to untie his son, but Lisa doesn’t let him close. The boy doesn’t know what to do, so he closes It was bumpy and loud and seemed to take forever. Part of his job is knowing how to be a good driver, his eyes to avoid seeing his parents fight again. so when the truck started to swerve and accelerate quickly, I knew something was wrong. I pushed the lid open to peek out. We were being chased by two black Suburbans. This wasn’t good. I saw the muzzle of a huge gun sticking out of the passenger side window of the closest one. It started firing. Bullets pinged off the toolbox. I couldn’t hold in a scream. My dad heard it and looked backwards but didn’t see me. He swerved when he looked and sideswiped the other Surburban, which had come up beside us. The truck started to spin out, and we went off the road. I jumped out of the toolbox and saw that Dad was knocked out. Before I could decide what to do next, I felt large hands covering my eyes. A rag covered my mouth and nose. That’s the last I remember.
I twitch and hear myself yell. I wake up but can’t see anything. Where am I? I start feeling around and realize that I’m in the toolbox of Dad’s truck. Footsteps come towards the truck after my dad tells my mom goodbye. The lid opens. “Simon? What in the…?” - Anonymous
My eyes open slowly and the single lightbulb in the room hurts them. I can’t move. A tall, redheaded woman wearing a black combat uniform walks in. She looks familiar, but my head still hurts. As soon as she speaks, I know. “MOM?!” “Simon? Why aren’t you in school?” “Untie me.” “I can’t.” “Mom! Help me!”
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“Simon, they will kill me.” “Why are you doing this?”
Artwork by Amber Alvarado
Kylie Heitzenrater
Elena Contreras
Antonio Aguas
Robert Williamson
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Magazine Editors Emma Drumright Elena Contreras
“Where the spirit does not work with the hand, there is no art.� -Leonardo da Vinci
W.B. RAY HIGH SCHOOL
“The purpose of art is washing the dust of daily life off our souls.” -Pablo Picasso