~Author unknown

Oceans of Power - Billy Aubrey

Crashing waves, mighty and bold.

A liquid power that’s very old.

Its ancient strength still strong today,

Witnessed in a lake, sea, or bay.

It’s power unrelenting,

And waves unrepenting.

It can take down mighty ships,

And reduce them to chips.

The sea is rugged and rough.

The currents, flooded and tough.  

With waves that can devour,

A crash so strong it can cause a shower.

If the ocean is power,

Then it is no coward...

The Trumpeter

By: Christian Celentano

The beats of the drums shake the ground

The singer sings and the saxes sound

The bass the foundation for the blues of the heart

A man's own expression within his musical part

This band of the heart is quite a sight

With the whole spectrum of colors from black to white

Just a band full of people who want to exist

Led by the conductor with his directing fist

But a man in the back is the main event

People look past his skin and see his intent

He plays with such confidence no fear in his eyes

The blues he plays are as clear as the sky

The vibrations of the bass runs through his bones

The beat of the drums timed with his tones

The trumpeter at this time is no longer black

He's a man with a horn that never looks back

He looks so intense yet sounds lighter than air

He plays so strong yet harmless as a hare

His tones so beautiful in the way they rhyme

The harmony so deep it at points stops time

Yet a man with a horn is all he is

He Lives with his wife and two cute little kids

But his two little kids don’t know their dad with a horn

Lives in a world that's broken and torn

I remember that day could never forget

When his solo began he took off like a jet

The trumpeter played with no fear in his eye

But he didn't know after his show he would die

After it ended I went around the stage

Into the alley where the bricks showed their age

I saw four men with sticks and with bats

All wearing overcoats and small rimmed hats

I peaked around the corner to observe the scene

These men looked unhappy and most certainly mean

I prayed that the trumpeter wouldn’t arrive

And I thought of when he played how he looked so alive

Then suddenly I saw the door start to crack

One man gave a signal and they began to attack

A swift bat to his head hit with such deadly force

The man swinging on his face showed no remorse

The beating was quick but felt like forever

But finally, the men had finished their endeavor

They all ran off I was left in shock

As the trumpeter lay there still as a rock

I sat in the alley where the trumpeter lie

And saw the emptiness within his bruised eye

The warm blood from his face pooled on the ground

And all I heard was a dull moaning sound

I ran to his body took his head in my hands

This was just a man who was in a band

The skin that was black was turned blue and red

The trumpeter died, my lap his deathbed (changed the ground to my lap)

I couldn't remember how long I stayed

I just tried to think of how he played

The tears from my eyes they fell on his face

Oh how I wished I could have taken his place

I sat for a while my heart had such pain

And then I felt the cool wet droplets as it began to rain

I walk home in tears wishing it was a dream

And I would wake to the smell of coffee with cream

(Shortened last line)

On that night the band lost a member

On a  cold rainy night in the middle of September

His two cute little kids lost their dad

By some blinded men who did something bad

But what would be different if this man was white

It would not fix this horrific sight

And if the four men who killed him happened to be black

They still would have killed him and would have never looked back

The man that was killed was neither white nor black

He was a man with a horn in the pack on his back

The world was torn and broken  no matter his race

Yet he played with such tones that floated through space

I was born a man with eyes that are blind

But the scene of that night was engraved in my mind

But by having closed eyes  I saw his intent

I did not use eyes, my ears held my judgment

Either way, a trumpeter was killed

And I felt the puddle of warm blood from his head that he spilled

And the tears from my eyes fell on his face

Whether he was black or white I wish I took his place

I am now a trumpeter in a similar space

But in a world that no longer cares about race

People learned my trick and there was an advancement

They just looked past my skin and saw my intent

I have two little kids and a lovely wife

And a wonderful house and a beautiful life

The trumpeter was a man with a horn in his hand

He died to give me his spot in the band

Dear Earth

By Elizabeth S.

Dear Earth,

I am sorry

For what we, Mankind, have done to you

We reach our nasty arm

Over your vast acres

And gashed, lacerated

Ripped, and slashed,

The trees you buried, fixed upon yourself,

Mankind has raped your lavish land,

Oh, Dear God,

Mother Earth, I am so sorry,

To make room for your animals they have to mass produce,

capitalized,

We believe we owned the beast,

But to a shrieking lamb, who sounds of your child,

Man has decided was for your grill,

Who is the real beast?

Dear Earth I am most sorry off all

For your heavenly, humble, animal

We grotesquely, seized them

From your loving side.

We have turned them into a business,

Mother Earth,

Pumping out,

Everyday, Slaughtering them, by the thousands

Throwing our money at the meat industry

Stuffing our bulky, ollied, bellies, with them,

While products shrieks in terror,

And we eat it, we eat their hemoglobin juices, clots, guts, pus, terror,

Mankind is committing a mass destruction of your children

Mother Earth,

I am scared to tell you what we have done,

For it is too cruel, it would make you believe

Mankind a hollow shell, lack of empathy, sympathy,

For the weak, the ones who can not speak,

Call out for help, to stop, beg for mercy

We our Butchering, slaying, wasting,

liquidation of humanity has happend,

For Mother Earth,

We take your sweet nurslings,

Baby cow’s, not even licked by their mothers yet,

Four month old, sent off to farmer john they go,

The baby's mouth fill with foam

There eyes go white, as they are forced with electric prods into their metal barred cage,

Waiting for the bolt gun, to stun them

Hanging them up by their little foolish legs so,

They won't struggle, which they tend to do more than regular money making animals

So they won't bruise,

So their meat is tender, juicy, luscious,

So you can serve it to your hungry customers

Veal, is this heinous, malignant, Manmade meal.

Mankind has told itself the biggest lie, that this is “humain”,

For i know no man who would see his fellow man shot through the brain,

To stun him, and then slit his throat after he has been hurdle up over the world

Hanging upside down,

And call this death “humain”

But that doesn't matter to man

For he can never know what is it like

To be a animal

To be worth less just because you aren't “human”

To be selfless, innocent,

Feel the terror of a pig,

Or a cow, or chicken, or goat, or horse,

Or a sheep, or a buffalo, or a lamb,

Or baby cow,

As they are unloaded off the trucks with electric prods,

And forced to confront a manmade fate decided for them,

The slaughter house,

Because if you could see what happens inside

You would not eat your cherished “U.S.D.A” certified hamburger,

But mankind isn't forced to see

What our ultimate consumption of this living creature does,

Mankind doesn't see inside the slaughterhouse

Or smell the shit fermenting in the leaky lagoons

So we live in ignorance,

Proclaiming it’s our god given right

We own the earth, and it’s inhabitants,

We are the top of the food chain

We are human

We are monsters

Oh, Oh sweet Earth, i am so so sorry

You scream for us to stop

We can hear it from the screams of your animals

And see the blood, piss, and shit leak into our land

But mankind does not stop

Mankind is sadistic, monstrous,

Wicked, deprived,

And i am just, so terribly, terribly, sorry,

Mommy Earth,

For you nor your pure creatures, never even asked for us at all.

"The snow did not even whisper its way to Earth, but seemed to salt the night with silence."
          ~Dean Koontz






Untitled by Mia Salah

Songbird

By: Mary Godwin

There’s a bird in a cage.

Won’t you free it?

There’s a songbird in a cage.

Don’t you hear it?

It sings of a sweet release.

There’s a bird in a cage.

Won’t you help it?

The bird is all alone.

It sings of freedom.

Can’t you free it?

There’s a bird in a cage.

It longs for freedom.

It sings for friends.

It’s the only songbird.

Won’t you sing with it?

Memory

By: Mary Godwin

I used to know him

I used to know his voice

Now I look back

All I see is a vague face

No laughter, only the still picture.

People tell me about him

Only once in a blue moon

His passing is too fresh

The memories are still painful

Even if I don’t remember him well

Eleven years ago today

On the Eighth of December

He died in the hospital

When I learned of this I cried

I never got to say goodbye

I remember very little about him

I was so little when he passed

It’s been so long since I’ve seen him

But I do remember some things

He liked to drink tomato juice with salt in it.

Today we honor his memory

Today we look back and think of him

We think of the man he was

We celebrate the life he had

To us, he’ll always be our #1 Grandpa.

The Man and His Hill

By: Mary Godwin

There was a man who lived on the hill

And everyone knew him well

They knew him up until

He fell

The man suffered a terrible fall

Off of his roof and down the hill

Trying to reach a child’s doll

His screams were short and shrill

Nobody knew what happened to him

Not until the morning after

That morning was grim

And nobody knew him thereafter