Teen Ink

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• Opinion > Discrimination
  The Science of Bias

  

  By BirdMan, St. Louis, MO

  “Any discrimination, like sharp turns in a road, becomes critical because of the tremendous speed at which we are traveling into the high-tech world of a service economy,” said Supreme Court Justice Clarence Thomas. Inequality among humans is a dangerous aspect of society. For centuries it has b...
• Poetry > All Poetry
  Sister Salvation

  

  By BirdMan, St. Louis, MO

  Sister Salvation Sister Salvation, Oil to my parched wood Water to my cracked Soul Power to my putrid heart Sister Salvation, Come into my family Save me from the masochistic world Rescue me from the sanctity of evil Sister Salvation, Why won’t you have me? Why do I feel so far aw...
• Poetry > All Poetry
  Who Am I?

  

  By BirdMan, St. Louis, MO

  Am I the innocent boy riding his bike? Or the Old Man who’s crippled and frail Am I the churchgoer who’s found meaning to life? Or the nihilist sunken into barren despair Am I the drunk wallowing in an empty bottle? Or the addict buried deep in strife Or maybe the mother who’s kil...
• Poetry > All Poetry
  Mirror Masks

  

  By BirdMan, St. Louis, MO

  You tell us how to live Who and What we are You tell us what we seek What we dream to find You tell us how we look Our frothy clean depiction But do you tell us more? You mask our true reflection Our soul and how we feel You mask our true complexion Bruises, bumps, and scars You mask ...
• Opinion > Social Issues / Civics
  The Image

  

  By BirdMan, St. Louis, MO

  The rained cascades down, not in fury or rage, but a quite monotonous drum, a symphony of continuous boredom. The brackish clouds dull the sky, shrouding the city in obscure darkness. Philadelphia ’s streets were dismal and dull, the sidewalks stained black from the murky rainwater. For the water ...
• Nonfiction > All Nonfiction
  The Music Fades

  

  By BirdMan, St. Louis, MO

  I believe in the pianist. Or rather, I believe that care and love is the only antidote for the inevitable decay of time. I still remember that balmy summer day when I first laid eyes on the piano. The burly movers carried it into our old Victorian style house while my tiny figure quivered in i...
• Nonfiction > All Nonfiction
  Indian Creek

  

  By BirdMan, St. Louis, MO

  Our caravan trudged onward; trees and summer brush, gravel and twisting roads, vines and oak trees encroached on our journey. This land seemed untamed and undiscovered and thrived on the wilderness. I sat, a young boy just weaned from his home school life, clinching my pillow with excitement. Indian...