Wednesday, March 23, 2016

Three Little Birds by Thuy Nguyen

MUTE / ECHO by Josh Skalski


I don’t know how to speak to
people very well.
I don’t know how
this works.
I don’t know how to say
“I like you”
“I think you’re cute”
“I want to know you better.”
I speak, but I’m afraid that
you can’t hear
what I’m saying.
what I’m saying is…
I’m just trying to tell you...
How I really feel.

I don’t, I could.
I can’t, I wish

And that you could finally hear me.

Quote of the Week

Yesterday I was clever,
So I wanted to change the world.
Today I am wise,
So I am changing myself. 

Friday, March 11, 2016

Happy Feet by Jillian Oliveira

DFd,jkfnwanf by Jillian Oliveira

If I should be alone or if I should not.
A strange, anxious, complex feeling bounces within me.
If I am alone, I think, I hurt.
I notice the goldfish swimming around in the tank, trapped, looking for an escape.
If I am not alone maybe it will stop.
She kisses my hand, it makes me feel warm. 
If I am alone it could stop also, but it hasn't.
The dull colors of the walls present a grey and drowsy feeling.
If I am not alone, I am happy.
If I am not alone, I am sad.
The desperations for relief grows and grows. 
There is an urge to see clearly again, to awaken.
I know I have the power to do so.
But the past prevents me every time. 

Wednesday, March 9, 2016

Comfortable Silence by Julia Johnson

Comfortable Silence

Working in a restaurant
has forced me to become attuned
to even the faintest sounds
Footsteps tip toeing near me
cause me to look up
from my seated position
on the white tile floor
A bag of crackers in my left hand
A price gun in my right hand
And I stop moving
You stop moving, 
glancing down at me
You are aware of 
my presence
The white shirt you wear
echoes off your pale skin
But your green eyes
glint beneath these fluorescent lights
They catch my attention
And for just a second,
a single, fleeting moment
Where time comes to a 
I dive head first into the lagoon
those eyes make
No one else noticed this
in breath 
but I did
and I think 
You did too
No words were exchanged
Just a comfortable silence
And that seemed to be

The Typewriter by Julia Johnson

The Typewriter 

Paper piled upon paper
Word stacked upon word
Ink spills from the machine
Ink bleeds from my fingers
It is bulky and heavy
but beautiful all the same
It creates a world that lives
inside my brain
I press down on a key
performing magic in the process
The letters seem to float in
to a machine
like the workers in factories
wanting to escape a life 
that doesn't allow them to live
Yet the letters don't mind 
just as long as
they stay clean
Because clean means used
and used means loved
and loved is all 
anyone can ask for

Quote of the Week

Treat everyone with politeness, 
even those who are rude to you, 
not because they are not nice, 
but because you are nice.