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  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    Welcome to the world You will be judged for your appearance By the color of your skin, and the color of your hair You will be judged for the clothes on your back, and the places you shop at By the size of your house, and the size of your bank account You will be judged for the type of music y...
  • Opinion > Social Issues / Civics
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    The young man with neatly combed dark brown hair sat in a cubed room the size of his closet, filling out an application for a job in an office building. The room had old air, and gave Payton a sick feeling. He was working well on the application until one of the questions was: do you have any tattoo...
  • Nonfiction > Personal Experience
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    I watch as the girls flip their perfectly styled blond hair behind their shoulder, and lay their manicured hands on their laps, their long legs dangling. I stare at their glossed nails, and notice the brush strokes move in a backward motion. My mom must have painted their nails. Kathy swaggers t...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    I wrote better two years ago I wrote with substance My thoughts were debris of the unknown I was able to scratch the paint Off the wall And my works meant something They hid the treasures that I had cherished or lost Then something happened I grew happy I gained friends My will and l...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    Do Poems dare to Dream? is it true that Poems really speak? are Poems jumbles of feelings and words mixed up and matched up to make a fake sentence flow? do Poems have a Soul? can they survive on their own? people like Us conceal our feelings We scrape and peal them off our skin dra...
  • Nonfiction > Personal Experience
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    Seventh grade is when I discovered my impulsive and fluctuating darkened moods, my power to hurt, the power to manipulate… and my power of imagination and to write. Eighth grade is when I exercised those powers, with reason. Nothing is worth doing without reason. Being in constant battles wit...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    Father May I… Run and leap to the sky’s vast blue memory Where the reminiscence of all the dead souls wilt Forever waiting for their answers asked many years ago. Father May I… Dream and Lampoon for the melancholy people And lead them away from the Shadow of Life Where dreams so dime...
  • Nonfiction > Interviews
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    What college did you go to? What did you study? Karlsruhe Art Academy in 1973. I earned by Masters in Fine Arts. Were you painting or making sculptures in college? Yes, I enrolled in sculpture and art classes. When it came time for choosing a career, were you every doubtful in becoming an ...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    O, Futile Teacher How goes thee? How goes thy lesson? Inanely playing action figure, or howling in thy manly high voice, resonating my ears Alas! my ears bleed by thy child’s whiny cry—oh, pity O, Futile Teacher How teaches thee? D’you dare to teach with mockery? For thy teaching met...
  • Hot Topics > Environment
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    Jesse Ventura featured the Bilderberg Group on his television show, Conspiracy Theory. The Bilderberg Group is an unauthorized, annual conference. It consists of 120 guests, all who have been invited to attend the conference. The guests consist of highly important western socialites from North Ameri...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    I REMEMBER… How I used to cry when characters died in books (oh, the emotions were great) When tears would swell from my eyes as classical music flooded my ears (hearing the strings resonate as the bow soothingly glides across the strings) They way I’d smile wide when I was happy (at Chris...
  • Fiction > Realistic Fiction
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    You treat me with mere abhorrence. You tousle my hair, brush my back, and intercept my every step. Save for, you in no way heed enough to stay for a while, even if it is for a simple drink. You are the wind brushing my face, permanently on the move, greeting many different people in a single day. I ...
  • Nonfiction > Memoir
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    When I was told I didn’t look anything like my mom, I said –bluntly- it was because I am adopted. The person seemed fairly disgusted, and said, “adoption makes me sick. It should illegal. What do they do? Set the kids on a bench and say to the people, ‘okay, pick your child’?” Adoption i...
  • Nonfiction > Memoir
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    I’m being a bad student- I know I am. Madam is explaining how to conjugate the verb etre (to be) in French, in unnecessary detail. Yet, here is my hand, writing and worming across this piece of blue-lined paper, jotting down my futile, belligerent, incoherent, thespian teenage thoughts... All beca...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    So bored nothing to do I want to escape but with who Not alone I'm too scared I must get out of here My thoughts are boiling over enclosed in a cage rails made of bones light made of pain The souls want to leave mine, too but once we are free where are we to go We'd ...
  • Nonfiction > All Nonfiction
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    “Every morning when the alarm goes off, we have a totally new opportunity to do what we want with the hours we have been gifted. And we are gifted with that clean slate every day for the rest of our lives.” (Hyrum Smith, Originator of the Franklin Planner, 2000.) This quote is from Life’s Grea...
  • Fiction > All Fiction
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    The girl lay there, crying out her soul. Her body crumpled into a miniscule ball of dust. That’s all she ever was- dust. Nothing important, just a ball made form shredded human skin, with no emotion but dwelling sadness that pervaded her body, washing out everything in her, the way a washing machi...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    Shame is deluded by insignificance you bite your tongue drawing ruby red blood glistening out the embarrassment you haplessly possess Parade of titters come arousing rosy cheeks crushed lips clenched fists Humans leave You are sitting in that seat crying ashamed terrified waiting ...
  • Poetry > Song Lyrics
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    Enclosed by the pervading night we traded vows of moral consciences and then a sinister heart spread its wings throught love The fruit told me that He is watching and He makes the dreams come true and the 'today' will turn to 'nothingness' Why me? With a budding flow...
  • Nonfiction > All Nonfiction
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    Cold drips of persperation run down the side of my Coke Light bottle. It's gradually creating a miniscule puddle on the counter. However, some unlucky drips die before they hit the bottom. The puddle is generously spreading, wetting a piece of paper with black ink. The silver plastic wrap on ...
  • Poetry > All Poetry
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    Faces, there's so many faces "You are my friends, Anne Boleyn and LIzzie Borden, but you aren't real. Sorry, I'm so sorry." My voice quavers Acid tears Walking Strolling Meandering around the room My 'friends' are angry No I'm not ready for this doom "Go away! Look what YOU made m...
  • Poetry > All Poetry
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    God is watching you So be careful what you do Hold my hand in a dark night I will be safe if You do Even when I am alone and far You come and find me I then see the light You teach me everything You know When I forget, You tell me again But what happens when You are gone From my mind What...
  • Poetry > All Poetry
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    Katherine of Aragon will you remember her remember her strong religion to God and the Virgin Mary her one daughter she loved dearly her one son who died early her love for her people that saved her life from beheading Anne Boleyn will remember her remember her ambition to being queen h...
  • Poetry > All Poetry
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    This lady in the airplane – I think she wanted me dead her eyes were blue bullets piercing my soul her expression whispered “I hate you” even though we never met she pushed her seat back to spill my food and drink she tripped me on my way to the restroom and flicked me on my way back...
  • Hot Topics > Letters to the Editor
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    Mr. Editor, Every child has his/her moments of anger, sadness, and confusion. Writers tend to write about it. Sometimes, after the anger or sadness has passed, we reread our articles and realize how callow and inane we were. I wrote an article called Two for One, the one that I am most mortif...

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