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VISIONARY TOUCH

AN INDEPENDENT ARTS & LITERATURE ZINE FOR THE HHS COMMUNITY PUBLISHED 2008


Visionary Touch 2008 is the ďŹ rst of its kind at Hayward High. It is a way for students to express their thoughts and emotions. In Visionary Touch, the artists are all equal, regardless of their cliques, types or backgrounds. Getting to be a part of what has become Visionary Touch Literary Magazine has been amazing and so chill. We would like to thank all of the artists that entered for gracing our literary ambitions with your self expression regardless of whether or not we were able to publish your work due to space and certain ďŹ nancial restraints. Thank you so much and we hope you enjoy this. David & Allegra

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Henaro Lara


Elena Ruis

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Thief

by Naila Tyner I didn’t know that you would walk up to me and easily steal my heart. You stole it when I wasn’t looking, and pressed the button that said RESTART Now, I’m in love all over again, and there’s nothing I can do. You have me in some kind of spell that I couldn’t wake up from if I wanted to. I knew you stole it when I looked back because everyone else in the room started to disappear,

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And I really looked at you for the first time, And my feelings for you became so clear. When I try to like other guys, No feelings seem to come. Then I remember that you took my heart. Now, I can’t love another one. What’s the point of keeping it, if you won’t sweep me off my feet? If you’re gonna steal my heart, take me with it. So I could be there every time my heart skips a beat.


Sunday Dinner a baby in a high chair a lady in the kitchen the smell of greens in the air smooth sounds of Al Green blare from the radio the baby sits there watching and waiting but does not make a sound she is happy she is at home now

Joe Blanco

Dalisia Banks

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Jessica Cieri

A Contrast Between Ravens

by Michael Ortega

There is this one, Beautiful, majestic creature. We call this creature, Raven This creature oh so graceful and beautiful, Oh how the heavens will sing. Sing of the beauty and gracefulness She swoops down High from the sky. Ready to attack, Or to save, Save us all from this hell of a place. She’s amazing She completes us She’s all we need We look everywhere for a special person Like this Why oh why is it so hard to find? And even when we do find it It’s oh so hard to keep.

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Jonny Nguyen


Carlos Lopez

*Take Me by the Hand*

Michelle Zumiga

By Monica Medina

I’m not like your past… Won’t be like the rest… Just trust, don’t pretend there’s just a glitch to mend cause’ dishonesty aint’ the case lets stop making this a maze You know where I’m at and I know where you stay so lets meet half way. Start a new day. What happened then is now history we both know what’s up hun, its no mystery I want you till forever, cause’ me without you baby? NEVER. I love you fa’real and to me that’s clear Just like I know that for you I’ll Do whatever I can… Just take me by the hand…

Elizabeth Ruiz

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Vance Speed

by Melika Kusljugic

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Lancer X pennea

Tiara Richards

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Gunshots by Curtiyah Ganter

Those bullets took another victim of the streets, He was only on the block tryna’ make money to eat, But the products he sold was so slowly killin’ somebody, So he was livin’ by killin’ just without the heat. Proof right here that in the town, war is peace, But peace ain’t nothing when we really aint’ free, Livin below the rich, the government, With rules and regulations, Kids wanna be thugs saying, “forget an education!” Life is too short and they’re tired of being patient. So they drop school and say they’ll get a G.E.D. But until then, post on the block and sell their cd. But ima’ do it a lil different see that’s not me ‘Cuz if God got it made for me, And the industry is waiting for me, Ima still go to school and be that G. See’em lata on the block like “What is it? What it do?” While I build knowledge, write and go to school. I ain’t ever been a follower, I let’em do what they do, I can’t keep saying “Ima make it,” Ima show and prove.

Joe Blanco

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Jessica Purchio

Poverty Our life is poverty We are taught money fixes everything Stereotyped by society, we are all set up to fail Because in our minds drugs are our profit Alcohol is our forgetful friend Guns are our faithful protection The various deals we make Keep us strong in the hustle Limited support leaves you eternal loneliness All you have time for is a prisoner’s life I guess you can thank God not every prisoner is a criminal When you’re stuck in this life of poverty. -S. Moi

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“To Be Or Not To Be” by Ronnie Bo

Wats goin on n dis world im losin family 2 guns Everyday is not promised now could I be da 1 Im not ready 2 die dat mean da whole world ova Damn cant even start da whole world ova A cold shoulda 4 ya certain individuals Feeln u getn active cuz u finally gotta pistol Think you hard witta pistol? But u softer than a tissue If u talk about it b about it now we gotta issue Gotta pistol betta use it but chu betta use it right C da people dat u killin u takin da wrong life C ma Fam is ma Life if u take ma Fam-Life Don’t trip I got it tatted Fam-Life FAST! Yup if u take a mans life 4 yaw consequences n repercussions u doin Life I aint doin Life 4 notta near Muh F**** Don’t chu eva tryta cum between ma Fam Ma Brotha Do u undastand Ma Brotha We sum ridas lik da Ku Klux Klan Ma Brotha So y ya killn Brotha on Brotha Wen ya Brotha is ya Family but from anotha Motha [CHORUS]: To Be Or Not To Be is da question Fam-Life E-N-T betta respect it To Be Or Not To Be is da question Fam-Life E-N-T is ma protection To Be Or Not To Be is da question Fam-Life E-N-T don’t eva test it To Be Or Not To Be is da question Fam-Life E-N-T don’t disrespect it C da question is To Be Or Not To Be If u popd a glock then watch da cops say FREEZE! Believe sumbody luvs u eitha dead or alive

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N u will neva b 4gotn out da bak of they mind To Be Or Not To Be is a possibility Its ya responsibility n im da future lemme speak C its haters n these streets so let these haters keep hatin N wen they c u ride by now they hatin u scrapn Wats goin on n dis world all they wanna do is scrape n fight Pick-up a Gun but not knowin how ta shoot it right Its 08 ya still livin da HYPHY MOVEMENT I gives a DAMN bruh u aint gotta lik ma music Ronnieboe Fam-Life yea respect it Don’t disrespect sayin shit u regret N then YUP I’ll be doin a FOOL Makin decisions I cant handle but im stayin n skoo [CHORUS] x1 Dis 4 ma brush n da streets dat take da streets 4 granted Wen u feel da bullet n ya you’ll be quick to panic Lik 50 Cent said “Imma Get Rich Or Die Tryin” Naw IMMA GET RICH N DIE RICH no lien Im jus statin yup Family ova everything N keep ya friends atta distance cuz friends wood do ya maine Makin it rain im 2 wet 4 these haters I keep ma Fam n ma circle n ma friends atta distance Yup all those homicides n Da Town I don’t wanna c u 6ft undaground Imam undaground rappa but imapickin it up If I hit rock bottom if I cant get up If I cant make a dolla if I go bankrupt If I had me a pearl if I had no nuts If I shoot da wrong person if I cant wake up To Be Or Not To Be is da question bruh Chorus x 1

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The World as of Now Searching for the treasure that my heart desires, my soul is dried up. Somebody take me higher. Violence is lurking and rising to the top. Along with STD’s, Pregnancies, and prisons to keep the law, they say they want to stop crime. They say it’s the law; they say they want everybody to live free, in peace, all in all. But this seems inevitable. They’re telling parables. How can they want this, but then supply guns for war? They put billions of dollar towards places overseas, when the killings are happening right here on U.S.A streets. Stephen Martin

He’s dense and tense. There’s no escape— Its where he lives. Its where he stays. He tries to help, but makes things worse. An awkward moment is put in place. He prays to God that things can change but somehow things just stay the same—They moan and cry, but never leave in his house. There is no peace. The blame is on him, for there is no other—a lonely child with his mother. His father is gone. He never met him and never will as his time is in heaven. His life is “F***’d up” as he would say, And suicide is no surprise. He stands alone at his home with no one else to tell him, “No!” So close your eyes and say goodbye. “Life’s a b****.” It hits him hard. Just think about it—this kid needs help, but you can’t help if its yourself. Your life is time, it goes and goes, but then your life comes to an end. Joe Blanco

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How Many Blacks will die? Its only a matter of time When all you gotta do is cross a line. Will our countries ever bind? So, how many Blacks will die Before our race declines? They will die everywhere, Standing in welfare lines. How many Blacks will die Before we wake up and realize That we don’t have enough time And that we’re barely getting by? With all these Blacks dying, Everybody’s gonna be cryin. So can you tell me,

How many Blacks wil die Before we get a chance to try? But somebody always wants a ride, Telling somebody to step aside. “It’s my time to shine, but their dreams are unrealistic.” So another Black will die Just trying to get a slice of the pie. How many Blacks will die? Will they find the love deep down inside, or will I have to ask again, How Many Blacks Will Die?

Tekiiya Turner

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Aaron Covarrubias

Eva

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Fulfilled

by Ysenia Sepulveda

Make your way up above in the atmosphere And look down to earth. There exist no borders. You see no people. We are merely beings, Socialized by notions which we consume and apply to one another, Born limited in our ideas of the world. I refuse Because how can I be fulfilled Knowing that my mind has been dumb-stricken, Whipped and left like the slave that lives within. The cuts in my back have become so deep, The whips have left scars on my heart and mind. The blood of knowledge drips and drains my soul. Like the 14 year old girl on the corner: The vicinity, her plantation The car that watches her from down the street, her master, The men that drive up and down the boulevard to pick and choose The crop in which she’s responsible. And as he sits there, he dreams and forces upon this little girl, sex. So that he may one day buy freedom. Freedom being the materials in which we ourselves feel imposed to have. We sell to get the fancy things Only to get them taken away while we’re put away. Once were stripped of the bling and the dirty money all were left with is our minds. But we stay blind, refusing to learn. We refuse to take the opportunity while teenagers abroad Are stripped of their opportunity to succeed. Bodies float, stagnant in the tulles of the river. How can I be fulfilled when I see a father Trying to pick up the pieces left of his home, Destroyed by the cyclone, And as the junta refuse to relieve and protect them from death and disease. They have nothing. 90% of them making a dollar a day. We have something, yet we still believe that not knowing is something better. But when you know, you realize the hate and fear in which we live in Swallow my words Digest them and throw them back up And show the world what kind of s*** we live in. Let them see the food price hikes How we torture to feel safe, and what we allow for the assurance of low cost prices. But at this moment I can be fulfilled With the hope that one of you can understand the meaning of my poem. Because not only is this a poetry slam But an opportunity to catch an inspiration and make it your own

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Its starting again Like a tape in rewind Peeking through the stairs I see your eyes are full of fear Then you fall to the floor He isn’t satisfied He wants more And now it’s in slow motion Hit… After hit… After hit… Blood running from your nose Now what do you suppose I do? When you see your hero Beating the woman that carried you Matt Hurd

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One Problem With The World Today A short story by Danielle Chattmon Jessica Fuentes

Best friends, Karen, Josh, and Maxwell all sit in a tight circle in the middle of Josh’s dark room with nothing but a flashlight standing upright in the middle. No, they aren’t telling scary stories. The power has gone out, and even though they’re thirteen and fourteen-years-old, they aren’t too fond of the dark. Especially in Josh’s messy room. Wrong step and you break your neck.

starting, “this is written in first person. Like the little girl in this story wrote it herself.” “Strange. “Josh hollowly agreed, eyes locked on the magazine. Karen rolled her eyes and sighed. “Okay,” she breathed, “My name is Melissa, I am seven years old. What you read now is true. Right now I am dead. And it’s all my mommy’s fault. Here is my story:

“Okay,” Maxwell began, “lets talk about something while we wait for Josh’s dad to find the power box.” Karen bit her bottom lip in thought.

“I am sitting alone in my empty room. The only thing other than me that occupies it is a small, thin, baby blanket. I am in a corner messing with a piece of thread sticking out of it when I hear my mother calling for me. More like shouting my name in blind rage. My stomach twists in knots. I freeze, slightly shivering, wondering what I could have done to make her angry. I had been in the room all day since I came home like she told me to do. I always listen. I never do wrong. I try my best in school so I can be a good girl and make her proud and love me like she did when daddy was alive. I haven’t done anything wrong... I think.

“Oh!” her sudden outburst made the boys jump; she giggled, “I read this one thing in a magazine the other day that made me sad...”she trailed off into silence as the memory of the story repeated itself in whispers in her head. It impaled her heart with an invisible dagger. Max was silent for a second, and then glared impatiently. “Well?” he pressed,” what’d you, read?” “Come on, man, give her a sec. can’t you see she’s upset right now?” “Well,” Karen said, regaining herself, “I have it with me. The magazine, I mean. Hold on...”s he stood up and snatched the flashlight. “Hey!” Josh exclaimed. “Oh, you’ll be alright. Just don’t move--your room can smell fear.” She jogged out of the room, laughing and swaying the flashlight side to side to make sure not to run into anything. When she returned, she held the magazine in one hand and the flashlight in the other—pointing outwards, lighting a walkway for her. She found her seat between Josh and Max and sat down, flipping through pages, looking for the marked one. When she found it she got ready to read. “You know what’s strange, though, guys?” she asked before

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“ “MALISSA!!!!” she screams again, her voice sounding loud and clear though she’s downstairs, “MALISSA IF I HAVE TO GO UP THERE!!” I feel a painful jolt in the knot of my stomach. I slowly stand up holding my sides trying to keep myself together. I feel like I’m going to puke. But I can’t. I’ll get in more trouble. I stumble out the door with only one thought in my mind. The pain she’s going to inflict on me today. Mommy please, please don’t hit me again, I find myself thinking, I try to be a good girl, I’ll try even harder if that’s what you want--just please, please don’t hit me! “I stand perfectly still at the bottom of the cold hardwood steps, aside from my trembling hands. My bare feet stick to the step from what probably was spilled alcohol from mommy’s party last night. Maybe I’m wrong. It could be something worse.

Visionary Touch 2008


“I try to swallow the lump in my throat before I speak, “Yes mommy?” but my voice still croaked. I struggle to fight back tears as she rounds the corner. “ “ God, I hate to look at you. You’re so ugly I don’t even know where you get it from,” she said, almost to herself. Then out of nowhere she struck me hard across my face. For a second I saw a flash of white, then black before my eyes. The contact caused me to lose my footing and I connected with the wall before falling on the ground. Tears fell freely down my cheeks. I felt as if a thousand angry wasps were inside my cheek trying to prick their way out. I cried out once I felt her foot slam hard against my back, then repeatedly at my side.” “I got a call from your teacher today,” she growled while still kicking. I had now turned around instinctively to avoid the pain being inflicted on my side, but then she was attacking my stomach. “She said you were sleeping during class!” She smashed hard against my nose for the last blow. Blood gushed out all over the floor. One arm wrapped around my stomach and the other covering my nose--which now, strangely, stung. It hurt so much I actually barely felt it. Just a slight stinging tingling feeling. But I did have to breath through my mouth now--and the taste of blood actually made me puke this time, but I closed my mouth and swallowed it before much came up. More tears fell. And after a few gasping breathes I was able to speak. “Your party, mommy--it was too loud and I couldn’t sleep. I’m sorry I’m sorry! I’ll never fall asleep in class again! Please-”she silenced me by yanking me up by my waist-long black hair that I get from my daddy and pulled me up to her face. I could smell the horrible, paint-peeling alcohol breath of hers. It made me gag--earning another slap across the face. The blood from my nose fell even more freely than before--I felt it. “Are you blaming me for this?! “ she screamed. “ “No mommy I--” but I couldn’t finish. She tossed me in the next room, which was the kitchen. I slid across the floor and hit my head against the bottom cabinet. I have no energy to get up. My nose and side and stomach all hurt to bad and distracted any messages to my legs. So they didn’t move. Just lazily laid there. “She walked slowly in the kitchen. Twisted smile on her face. “ “I’ll teach you to blame your own mistakes on your mother.” she stated in a deadly tone. I was too scared to cry. I wanted to, I wanted to cry so much, but I couldn’t. I could have really been that scared, or I just had no more tears left. I stared, deer-in-headlights, as she came closer, grabbing the scissors off the counter. My heart began to race at an impossible rate as she finally stood over me. In what seemed like one move, she yanked me up by my hair again and whapped the side of my head with the handles, then in one snip, cut most of my hair off. I fell on the floor again. Slowly starting to loose consciousness, I try to stay strong. I at least can’t let her get to me while I’m out. She tossed my hair at me. Either it fell with a hard thump on my chest, or it’s just me. “You have something to say?” she hissed. “Its okay. It will all be over soon. Said a voice in my head.

You’ll come home. It will all be over. “Over? I struggled to question in return. No response. I must have imagined it. “Well?!” mommy yelled--I noticed I didn’t answer, just stared. So I slowly shook my near bald head. She glared and tossed the scissors at me. I flinch and look away; shutting my eyes and covering my nose. The heavy stainless steel hits my shoulder dislocating it. I scream. Not because of my shoulder. I mean, it would have been that if my mother hadn’t caught the scissors once it hit my shoulder and stabbed my thigh. So really, I was screaming because I got stabbed. Which is new to me--being stabbed with scissors. Kitchen knives, pencils, pens, sticks, metal hangers--I’ve even been poisoned. But never, ever has scissors crossed my mind. Maybe its because I didn’t even know my mommy owned any. “Blood began to soak my pants. The kitchen started to smell strongly of it--or maybe I smell the blood in my nose, which has not stopped bleeding. Mommy found my cries funny, so she started raking the scissors up and down my thigh. She ignored my sobbing and begging as she repeated herself with my other leg. When I was silent, she was done. She looked down at her daughter’s lifeless body and smiled--shaking her head. “She turned and started off to her room. Silently chuckling to herself; grabbing a beer out of the refrigerator before she was gone. “The next morning the police found my body in the kitchen floor, surrounded by blood. Mommy’s fingerprints were on the handles. They go up to her room pointing a gun up to her head to wake her up. She was arrested for murder. “I was buried at the cemetery around the corner from my favorite park. The only place I felt safe from my mommy. That made me happy. “On the other side I was reunited with my daddy, who died in a fire trying to save a little boy. Sadly, he did not make it out alive. That all happened when I was four. That also made me happy. To be with him again. “Please do not forget my story. For it is only one voice out of the thousands out there. Please help do something for the lost children who still have a chance. Be against child abuse.” Karen falls silent. The story was over. The boys were speechless. “Dude,” Max breathlessly said, breaking the silence. “That was fu--” “Unnecessary!” Josh interrupted. “I mean--that little kid didn’t deserve that! So what. She fell asleep during class! I do it all the time! I wouldn’t have just arrested that woman, I would have shot her a--” “As…I was saying...you’re right Karen. That story was sad.” “Yeah. Makes you want to do something about the whole “child abuse” problem huh?” Karen smiled. The boys shared uneasy looks, and then shrugged. “Yeah, I guess.” They said in perfect unison. Karen giggled.

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Allegra Wilson

Visionary Touch 2008


I can’t get no sleep Picture my dreams in higher definiton. Dont asks me any questions, just listen. MTV plus Discovery and Sci Fi, on speed and methamphetamines, times three to the fourth degree . Yes, tweaked the f*** out, my dreams be. And can you imagine trying to sleep peacefully? Yah right, the Sand man never comes to visit me and this insanity is begining to terrify me because I Can guarantee that there is no place more lonely than my mind, and when seconds pass me by like sleepless nights time is no friend of mine. So I’m on repeat repeat cause I can’t sleep sleep and my thoughts are freestyling uncontrollably to my heartbeat . So when this beat drops it will be sure to knock 2

I’LL CALL IT PULSE...

Visionary Touch 2008

Allegra Wilson

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Elusive Technique is a dissimilar brand of clothing that brings intergalactic and inner city together. Elusive takes the bases of space, robotics, and the abstract, intertwining them with the urban style of today’s society. Although still in the blueprint phase, Elusive will be out sooner than you think.


Visionary Touch 2008