Poetry Journal - 2011/2012

THANKS FOR READING

Stuart Hall Poetry & Art Journal

HAVE A GREAT SUMMER! 2011 - 2012

Connor McKeon, Class of 2013

Special thanks to the artists:

Brandon Joa - Connor McKeon - Harry Conrad - Elijah Tolentino Declan McBride - Stephen Everest - Jean-Luc AV Seltenrich

Santa Marquette giving his big ‘ol thanks to leaving faculty members: Ms. Fahey Mr. Demlinger

Very special thanks to the poets:

Declan McBride - Brandon Joa - Sterling Kirk Joseph Fink - Daniel Monsour - Dunham McBride - Eli Meatague Tyler Ryan - Kailen Santos - Grant K. - Colin Shepard Hironori Imaizumi

And a thanks to Mrs. Saltveit’s Digital Design class for creating this journal: Andy Chung, Connor McKeon, Declan McBride, and Jean-Luc AV Seltenrich

Cover: Jean-Luc AV Seltenrich, Class of 2013~ Fort Mason, San Francisco

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Identity

By Declan McBride We start in her room Being born again She doesn’t know who she is or where she came from The only reality she knows Is me On the other side, holding her hand

Stephen Everest, Class of 2015

We move slowly but unsurely from strange beginnings I tell her what her name is And how we got there.

There, in that room with no meaning or time Hours passing She still doesn’t understand my words Lost in our own heads far, Far from each other’s.

Repeating my words I spoke hours before She names herself once again And again Not fully understanding what it means Or why it matters Crying out to the world “What’s going on?

Where am I?” The universe has now been enveloped into an endless loop of infinity That is now recited like a prayer.

A prayer of Names Locations And realizations

Harry Conrad, Class of 2012

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Her journey to the deep, dark depths of heaven and back Will come to an end I promise As she recalls who she is Over and over and over and over

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A Translation: Reason v. Desire

By Daniel Monsour Every day I ask myself these questions Like do I give my best first impression?

Am I worthy of having my blessings?

When will I finally learn my lesson?

Because I tend to replicate mistakes In my head swim words like fish in a lake Trying to catch one and I won’t give up Somehow my luck is scarce no matter what But my will is strong like Poseidon’s waves With a memory sharp as Spartan blades With my shield to protect my troubled soul As battles with confusion take their toll Like Hamlet, war rages in my lost heart Two rivals fight to the death after dark The first, being the army of reason In combat with the army of demons Demons command the army of desire Reason fights, using words to inspire Faithless temptations lead to deception And loss of hope leads to misdirection Sometimes the army of demons will win Only if reason decides to give in This conflict goes on until your life ends The strength of your will determines who wins

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A Thought, A Word

By Joseph Fink There is a thought.

There is a thought that must be heard, There is a thought that must be spoken.

It begins, the speaking, with narrowed jaw. and then a stutter, a quavering of the lips, without a word to drop from them.

This thought cannot escape its prison.

This thought cannot leave the mind.

A tilting of a head, a wrinkling of the brow, and this thought fails to become a word.

So with a slight confusion, a puzzling conundrum, this thought fails to be heard.

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Southern Slang

By Sterling Kirk Don’t bite off more than you can chew.

Don’t try to do too much at once, or try to prevent choking and the need for the Heimlich maneuver?

Every dog should have a few fleas.

Nobody is perfect, or is it unfair to the dogs with fleas that some dogs are clean, should we put fleas on those clean dogs?

Got you feathers ruffled.

Are you upset and flustered, or are you growing something on your skin other than hair that needs to be combed?

Like two peas in a pod.

Do we act similarly, or does my head really look like a small green pea too, cause I know his does.

If you don’t stop that crying, I’ll give you something to cry about.

Would you punish me for crying? Or are you just trying to take credit for me already crying? I don’t need another thing to cry about.

That soup is hot as two goats in a pepper patch. Is that soup very spicy, or are you randomly referencing soup to two goats that are obviously lost from the herd, and probably sneezing uncontrollably.

We got the short end of the stick.

Did we get treated unfairly and not get what we deserved, or was that an awful attempt of splitting that stick in half? Why can’t I have the long end?

Straw Man

By Brandon Joa It seems to be that ev’ry stance and point Carries a facet which one can construe Manipulable by parties adroit In muddling together the false and the true.

Assigned to ideas are motives untestable By demagogues who oppose those angles Laying a trap of perilous technique ‘Till the unwary mob is all tangles To quash the cause which their hatred did pique.

More taxation? A war against the rich. Lower taxes? You are an elitist. Cut entitlements? Why burden the poor? Against abortion? You sick misogynist. Affordable care act? You want Marxism? Enforce immigration laws? More racism!

For now a word cannot be said by tongue Nor an earnest belief be held in soul But it is replaced in the eyes of the throng With a malev’lent fiend, which dares to toll The bell of conscience, right apart from wrong.

Discerning voices call to no avail The crowd grows evermore deaf and blind To the voice of truth, now turned to falsehood While evil is mistaken for what is good And the lines between are blurred to one kind.

The horde displays its despised prisoner They desire to finish what he began But through the haze of the flames and the smoke One can see: they have but burned a straw man.

Like a bump on a log.

Was she that boring and pointless, and have nothing to say, or was she the lady with that weird little round nose, that looks like a growth coming off a log?

You caught me with my pants down.

Was I surprised and totally unprepared to see you, or can you please give me a second? I told you I was changing in here, you’re gross.

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Lost in Translation

By Dunham McBride Meanings lost forever Original ideas never seen again Twisted words straying from their path Twisted people contorting thoughts Beauty lost Ugly lost Good lost Bad lost A permanent subtraction from the equation of the world

Declan McBride, Class of 2013

Purposeful loss Accidental loss From language to language Person to Person Paper to Paper Mind to Mind But is it lost even it was never known Can you gain from the absence of something Is the true definition of lost, lost forever Purposeful loss Accidental loss From language to language Person to Person Paper to Paper Mind to Mind

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Brandon Joa, Class of 2014

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Lost in Nowhere

By Eli Meatague

Baseball: A to Z Harry Conrad

Lost, found, lost Trapped, freed, trapped Lost within your mind Your body trapped Lost in nowhere Confused, dazed, confused The only thing holding you back is yourself The only way you live is by freeing yourself The only place to be is everywhere The question is how.

Alphabet City. At Bat. Angels, Astros, Athletics. Babe Ruth, Bob Gibson, and Bo Jackson. Bang-Bang play. Braves, Blue Jays, and the ever-disappointing Brewers. Cycle-single+double+triple+homer un.12-6 Curveball. Cubs, 100 years and Counting, and Cardinals, success at every level. Contradicting. Deadball era. Don Mattingly. Dash to homeplate. Dinger. Diamondbacks, always quick to strike, Dodgers:powder blue and white. Errors Earned Runs, Earned Runs Average. Ernie banks, or Edwin, the Duke, Snyder.

Forbes Field. Four-Bagger. Gamer. GOT-HEEEEMMM. Giants, 2010. Home Runs, Hits, Hit By Pitch. “Hammering” Hank Aaron.

Inside and high or Inner half of the plate. Inside-the-parker. Irving, Monte. Indians, Johnson, Walter. Kock. Koufax. Louisiana Lightening. Mets, Marlins, Mariners. Mickey Mantle. Nationals.

Negro Leagues. No-Hitters. Out of the park. Outside. Orioles.

Physics. Pitching. Perfect Games. Post-season. Phillies Padres, or Pirates. Quizzes. Rays of Royal Red Rangers wearing Red Sox into the Rockies. Rotations. Saves. Singles & Scratched Stars. Stolen Bases → “Swag”-Dictionary = Rickey Henderson. Tigers- Stacked in Twenty-Twelve. Twins- cellar dwelling Turkeys. Throwing.

Underhanded Toss. Veering to the left. White Pearls. White Sox. X-rays. Years. Yankees. Z ? Nothing for Z . . . Barry Zito sucks

Elijah Tolentino, Class of 2014

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Work

By Tyler Ryan Passion, blood, sweat a tear In front of all Time to crossover three, two, one I see the lights Flashing this Is not new to me a shadow is a game for me to unwind

Mine

By Colin Shepard Watching Saturday morning cartoons And laughing with my sister about nothing Soon I learned to talk and walk Each day, outside with side walk chalk My days were measured in snack time and hugs Corny music and unconditional love First day of school wasn’t so bad Wait two moms, what’s wrong with your dad Its alright, I just never had one No changing now, what’s done is done Big boy alone in his new school To keep sadness out, you make your own rules about hitting and spiting and yelling and tears what once was shared, is now hidden in fear boys don’t cry they only get mad even when someone makes you feel sad makes you feel bad hurts you inside with a pain never had writes to your mom and asks for your dad New cartoons aren’t funny But I can’t stop laughing I live in a world were I think I belong The space were all my rights have been wronged I grew up to find this very strange place I sit and I think and I plot and I race But not all is right in this world that I face

Connor McKeon, Class of 2013

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The boy that I knew is no longer here He faded away in the tears and the beer Yet still he lives is in my jealous sneer Or when my heart is broken by fear

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Experiences

By Grant K.

An Apple Pie Armageddon.

American a-holes and the art of affect.

Polar Bear blossoms and soggy blankets.

Brenda beginnings with a side of curly fries.

Courage, In-certainty.

College nightmares Do-si-Dos The Dalai llama. Enlightenment Ecstasy and the easy way out.

Earth quakes Family_ s failing. Flatulence and Growing Gorgeously fat.

Hope in hopeless situations.

Ignorance in injustice Ice caps in my juice and jams On the radio.

Labron James jams on Jeremy Lin Hershey Kisses on my lips.

Kangaroo kicks Love Only lasts as long as lives long to last.

Lame.

Mental math. Mathematicians and master debators

Obama and Osama bin laden.

Oprah_ s omnificent end.

Pride parade queens.

Riots and human rights.

A stench still remains.

Ticklish toes and tough love.

Unchanged financial crisis Valentines Day. Wikipedia.

Waves and white wash.

X-men Yams. YOLO. Young and yearning

“Unheard”

By Kailen Santos A poet’s language is the art in their technique, None of it is jibber-jabber, as many of you might think, This one is for all the kids who get called a weirdo, a freak, Writing poems in English class while people laughed within their cliques Poetry is an art, a type of beauty and expression, Not just a bunch stupid f-ing lines for you to question, Now listen for the meter change, you might just learn a lesson, From the rhymes, listen up! Class is now in session A word is a word, is a word, is a word, Every stanza is a message, to which I am allured, But what the hell is poetry, if you aren’t being heard, “I’m expressing my being!” now did that sound absurd?

No. In my head a language, to you it’s all obscured, If you’d just try to understand, then you might just be cured, Don’t understand poetry? Well this line is the third, In the fourth stanza I write, does this all still seem blurred?

So to those who love poetry, you’re my flock and my herd, Let your thoughts escape the mental prison in which they are interred, You are among the many, a nation of poetry nerds, So spit those bars, speak that word, and never be unheard.

Zen and Zoning out.

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Drive

By Hironori Imaizumi Never can I stop Riding with my turbo charged block.

You wanna drive?

You’ll see me blast off like a hawk, Smoke your head off And leave you by a block Riding the I-90 over 190 the autobahn in an automatic You know my speed.

Shifting gears in the sevens pushing pedals to the heavens, You know I speed over the limit and under regimes standing behind fences and dreaming of keys. with the smell of tyrants and greed and nuke plants that make you bleed My world’s just Murcielago green Ruled by the Lamborghini dream black confetti dropped from the skies to the floor but the second sun is now a joke about war And it issues people awards The long fake stories about rewards But I can only watch my speed bumps, being dropped every sunrise to screw my wheels up. some fools just pay cash so they don’t see ‘em and erase themselves so no one needs ‘em others fool themselves just ignore ‘em, so they can draw themselves and have people want ‘em On the streets, I always thought I had ‘em From all the days I felt clever To the roads that got wetter nothing got better Not even the game that I taught ‘em I changed the weather

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nothing came together my mind just slipped on the water But It’s a just game to ‘em While they rhyme about their lies we have to be silent for ‘em, sit back, and watch their heinous crimes swiping their plastic credit cards with rust On their corporate machines they distrust Protecting their world that’s just messed up and telling me my translated words are made up, While I get lost and tear everything up Their problems are far too simple and made up. just selling the dreams they gave up Telling me to send their maid up They’re just enjoying the days I sold out when I tried to be more flawless with them with nothing but sickness and doubt I hit the gas and tried to escape without them The freeways closed down the streets sealed up with no roads downtown drinking out of my death cup I was driven to edge A tall ledge under siege With no surrender coming from my car only the driver behind the hood of the scar I heard machine guns fire from their scorns. full metal jackets striking my car like thorns with nothing but the guardrail holding me back There was only one way to escape this attack Shift the gear into reverse Hope that god gives us no curse reflecting on the fame, cars, drugs and vacations screaming better luck next time regulations I drive.

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