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The Uncensored Magazine.com

Art. Photography. Poetry. Articles. Stories.


March 2010

Uncensored: adj. Not examined, expurgated, or given a rating for inclusion of improper or inappropriate material

The Uncensored Magazine is a haven for freedom to express oneself without fear. It was created for individuals to write articles, create art, and publish photographs. Enjoy! Editor, Kendall Kleinberg Contact: editor@theuncensoredmagazine.com

THEUNCENSOREDMAGAZINE STAFF Jonathon Anderson Chloe Cunningham Thomas Dolas Chelsea Garmshausen Hannah Glass

Elle Hartley Devin Kent Victoria Langton Mariah Lumley Brynmarie Maison

Vy Quan Nguyen Makaila Palmer Sean Pigden Alex Rieckhoff Clara Ross


By Chelsea Garmshausen

Shock and Awe


Fleurs et Tabagisme

By Devin Kent


Love’s Rhythm By Elle Hartley

Refreshed, Renewed. Music fills her ears: Pounding drums, like her heart when he's around. Thrashing guitar, like her nerves when he touches her. Piercing vocals, like their conjoined breathing, as they intertwine; The music composes her, whilst consuming her mind, body, and soul. Leaving her gasping for the hot breath of life that fuels her.


By Mariah Lumley

The Night I was Born By Thomas Dolas

The night I was born the brightest star shone in the sky and I told myself I would get there no matter how hard I would have to try Well I grew a little older before I flew to the great jewel in the sky Catching my dream before I would die Well the rocket took off when I ordered my crew “Stick close to that star as if we were made out of glue!” And flew we flew Past galaxies white and blue With colors so rich so deep so true But it wasn’t until I got closer and then I saw That this beautiful star shining brighter than the sun Was you yes you And my life mission was done


ColorBlind

By Devin Kent


By Victoria Langton

Just Dance


By Alex Rieckhoff


Why

do all Porcupines Float in Water?

By Hannah Glass

Why do all porcupines float in water? How did human life come to exist? Who inspired Shakespeare when he wrote his Sonnets? What is the fourth dimension? Everyday, when I open the car door with school books in hand, I don’t hear any “Don’t forget your lunch” nonsense or any sappy “I love you.” Ever since I can remember, I have only heard the wise words of my father: “Ask lots of questions!” Ask lots of questions. Even now, my dad gives me that same advice. I think of that advice whenever and wherever I can. My hand

is always up, prompting a question in class. Sometimes I think that the only reason I have any intelligence whatsoever is because I ask so many questions. Questions drive us. They lead to progress. Before Edison invented the light bulb, he pondered how to extend the light of day. Before the American colonies broke free from Great Britain, they wondered why the king was so controlling. Before Ludwig Van Beethoven wrote Moonlight Sonata, he asked himself how he could put the feeling of his broken heart into music. The advice to ask questions has stayed with me constantly, wheth-

er I’m in Calculus or a musical. To follow it, I must pay attention and engage myself in the world. And nine times out of ten, I learn something that I probably wouldn’t have ever discovered otherwise. It’s hard to always ask questions. Sometimes the things we learn leave no ambiguity. But when it looks like there couldn’t possibly be anything else to learn, that’s when creativity really appears. With “Ask lots of questions!” pulsing through my brain, I have learned to fish through information to find more knowledge. So how should I end this?

Who? What? Where? When? Why? How?


By Chelsea Garmshausen


By Kendall Kleinberg After months of anticipation from

Coachella

music connoisseurs, Coachella tickets went on sale for a mere $269 for a three day pass. Running from April 16-18, the annual music and arts festival has been prevalent since 1999. Each year, more and more bands play at the event. This year a conglomeration of music groups ranging from Hot Chip to Jay-Z to Muse are going to perform at Coachella. People from all over the country, flock to this music festival, located in Indio, California. Make sure to wear your sunscreen because the temperature during the festival is known to rise to astronomical heights in this desert location.

Upcoming Shows in Southern California Jason Mraz- Sat, 02/27/10 7:30 pm Plays at the Terrace Theater- Long Beach Convention Center and Entertainment in Long Beach, CA The Morning Benders- Thurs, 03/25/10 Plays at the Troubadour in West Hollywood, CA Jay-Z- Fri, 03/26/10 7:30 pm Plays at the Staples Center in Los Angeles, CA Air- Sun, 03/28/10 8 pm Plays at Walt Disney Concert Hall in Los Angeles, CA The Black Eyed Peas- Mon, 03/29/10 7:30 pm Plays at the Staples Center in Los Angeles, CA Alicia Keys- Tue, 04/06/10 7:30 pm Plays at the Staples Center in Los Angeles, CA Vampire Weekend- Wed, 04/14/10 8 pm Plays at The Fox Theater-Pomona in Pomona, CA Bird and the Bee- Fri, 03/05/10 8 pm Plays at the El Rey Theatre in Los Angeles, CA


B Y A L E X R I E C K H O F F

Upcoming Movie Releases Alice in Wonderland-Friday, March 5 The Back-Up Plan-Tuesday, March 16 How to Train Your Dragon-Friday, March 26 The Joneses-Friday, April 16


B y K e n d a l l K l e i n b e r g


By Jonathon Anderson


Habitual

Slash


By Victoria Langton

Behind the tears and the fears Lies a heart full of beauty Behind the rain and the pain Lies a girl who fakes a smile Sitting in the boring room She is crying to herself Walking around all alone She wishes he could be there

A Poem from the Heart

He doesn’t love her, so sad She wants to move on, but can’t She wanted him to tell her He loves her like she loves him All her closest friends and foes Want him to read this poem What would he think? No one knows She would like to say she does

By Vy Quan Nguyen


By Kendall Kleinberg

To frolick or not to frolick? That is the question.


By Chloe Cunningham


Common Contemplation By Wishful Thinking

I am Nothing. I am a speck, swirling in the Wind Wholly unoriginal in my wandering. Every emotion, every thought that pulses through me Has pulsed through a hundred thousand hearts Flowing down through History. This poem has been writ before A communal thought And nothing more. For all my dreams and aspirations, Will sleep in bulbs to reappear Throughout the countless generations. There is simple comfort in these truths. The feel of silken continuity Which brushed against my rough cheek soothes. But deeply rooted Frustration and Fear To be lost forever With a solitary tear. I am that speck upon the Breeze Not substantial enough To elicit a sneeze. Like the kings and prodigies, thieves and louts Who came before me Gaia breathes In. And Out. I am inhaled..... And exhaled just as easily.


The Sun Earth.Wind.Fire. By Clara Ross


By Makaila Palmer


By Brynmarie Maison


Freshmeat By Sean Pigden

There he was, ready to lose his virginity, a boy standing in cold mist under a tree with his heart racing, pounding wildly. His mouth watered. What would he do to a woman, he thought if he could only grasp one. As he moved away from the fog, a sweet mellifluous sound called out to that boy of fourteen. “Winston. Winston, I’m ready.” The young virgin galloped to the sound as if he only had one to give his seed. He ran in one direction, and the grass began to wither into rock, then ice as he moved further. The innocent one soon slipped along the ice, wondering where his childhood taker could be. Back into the forest he went, and finally he heard an ever so faint cry from the same lustrous voice. “Winston. I need you inside of me.” The innocent boy prone to completing this one sin climbed a mountain and walked through a

perilous desert to find the XX chromosome. He then saw her naked upon grape leaves, a woman of nineteen-ready to go. Was it a mirage? Whatever it was, it was the most beautiful creature the innocent boy had ever laid his eyes on. Sure, he could watch from the top of the dune he stood from, but he needed to feel, to see if they were real. His legs were weak from the journey or quest he’d put it: the quest for sex-manhood. He rolled down the dune, floated to her, and by closing his eyes he was all of a sudden naked. This is what females were made for, the hardened child thought. He swallowed a large pocket of spit, gulped, took a deep breathe, and prepared to inject his fourteen year old companion; however, right before he did she whispered, “someone’s excited.” He smiled until she said it again in his mother’s voice. It all began to fade away, and the still innocent boy woke up to

his mother. She repeated louder, so he’d wake “I said, ‘Looks like someone’s excited,’” Startled and slightly petrified by his obnoxious erection pushing up from his covers observed by his mother sitting in a chair, he rudely demanded privacy. Of course, she just laughed as he tried to put it down and said, “Guess I’ll have to clean those sheets.” Winston yelped, “Mom get out of my room!” “Oh come on.” “Mom!” “Fine, fine,” she said before closing the door. After being mortified, Winston and his friend he called Charlie were severely disappointed. He then lifted the covers only to discover the mess Charlie made and how his mother was right. Winston sighed, yet smiled. “Guess we’re no longer junior highers are we?” He cleaned up the goo, and in some immature way, Winston laughed and welcomed himself to high school.


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