Month: December 2010

IF all faggots
Go to hell,
Then I’d rather float
Down that river of sticks
Than spend one more moment
With all these bigots.

Thank God it’s Fry-Day
I certainly look forward to
The end of the weak
Minded.

When we walk
All over “different” people
We wear down the souls
Of our shoes, but that’s okay,
They don’t need them.
They weren’t going to heaven
Anyways, right?

by Justin K. Oberg

My furry friend
cute as can be
In age by days
he’s less than three
My furry friend
all covered in hair
He’s in the blender
over there

I put him in
feet first, of course
turned on the power
set at full force
he tried to fight
to no avail
my furry friend
was doomed to fail

He screamed for help
as his legs did slip
and hit the blades
with a sickening rip

his toes and legs no longer there
he gasped for breath
ran low on air
he fell again
this time his stomach
into the blades
his body did plummet

No longer fighting
his eyes went white
we’re gonna be having
a smoothie tonight

My furry friend
no longer soft
is now a smelly, bloody broth

by Doug Chapman

Biography

I’m not entirely sure what to say here. I’m… 19 and a student at SCF. Hoping to go into teaching, maybe. Or something like that. I’m not normally all that great with words.

2 towers, 2 planes,
So many lives never retrieved,
I wish I could understand
Because towers don’t come down from flames,
How would you explain
Fire balls of hell from the building side,
Just two weeks before
Bomb sniffing dogs taken away
Hijackers claim
It’s all in the change
There are still funny things
About the plane crashing
He said , “hey it’s John Smith”,
But it’s all just a fabricated myth,
And now it’s world war 3
And we send over our friends,
And we send over our fathers,
And we send over our brothers
And we send over our sisters
And if they die it’s a must
For freedom and we just
Have to honor and pay homage
To have the heart to hold our heads high

by Chelsea Beasley

I, that am and will always be
Until I am no more
And therein
Will not be

Until I am no more
I will always be what I am and
Will not be
What I never was.

I will always be what I am
And therein
What I never was,
I, that am and will always be.

by Elizabeth Ferrante

Biography

I’m a writer. That is all.

Striving to believe in anything
More is more and less is weak
Convinced that all is real
Natural and unique

More is more and less is weak
Understanding that things change
Natural and unique
Everything happens for a reason

Understanding that things change
Convinced that all is real
Everything happens for a reason
Striving to believe in anything

by Ashley Darr

Biography

I am currently majoring in business but I plan to minor in writing so I can one day try to open my own magazine company. I’ll be graduating in May with my AA and moving to USF to finish off. I was born and raised in Charleston, South Carolina but moved to Florida when I was 10. I’m currently 20. I’ve been through some crazy things in my life, and often do very stupid things. So I find joy in writing about them just to make people laugh. Either that or take pictures to remember the moment to look back and laugh myself later. It’s my escape.

I fear not what the day will bring me because I know that everything happens for a reason.

I fear not what others say about me because I know what is truly in my heart and who I truly am.

I fear not what others may do to try to hurt me because I am a survivor.

I fear not what love has to bring me.

I fear not what has happened in my life because they are all lessons in which to be learned from.

I fear not to be alone because it is what needs to be right now.

I fear not what tomorrow holds. For the grace of God is with me and inside me. He will see me through the toughest and saddest of times. He will shine His face on me and give me peace.

by Michelle Brown

this is the I fucking T of tech
touch my PDA
I’ll cyberfuck ya

my processor surpasses my professors
20 gigs…at least

upload? FUCK
i do it real time
download that          dialup pussy

i’m connected, stimulated, combined
meshed, updated,
and Virus free …lets POKE

this is it…you can’t peck the keys
fast enough
i’m you now            don’t restart
just think it

we’re interfacing baby
and we gliding all the way
fireport to fireport

my battery’s small, but it’s all
about the hardware
hours and hours
no forced closing

lets hook up
hop on the lynksis G router
then get off at Zanzsibars free WIFI hub

whatever you do         do not
do not sub-route yourself via the AOL line
there’s a nasty new group out there
The Trojans           they’ll fuck you up
you’ll be crashin like a Commodore 64 on crack

another thing….your processor better be fast
just like your profile says
don’t bullshit me

i’ll flash your hard drive
forever

i
i’ve been burned before
my firewall insulates my ports now
the only inflow
is my flow
my world       only my PLASMA colored lenses

it’s not worth it
getting fucked
I have two firewalls

but I’m not afraid of crashin’
know what I type?

fuck cremation
slap me in 16 gig flash tomb
and you can download on me all you want
over
and over               til you have to recharge

you see
we’re all riding this USB cable
The Megabytes
The Kilobytes, and those others
yeah, them…

it’s all one pixel now
plasma         LCD
doesn’t matter

Touch my screen

Please

by William Graydon

I wanted to write you a poem.
Something true from my heart to speak to yours.
I wanted it to be the most clever, innovative, brilliant putting together of words you had ever experienced.

I wanted you to realize the beauty in my minds eye with the words on the page
the words I was speaking.
The words…
There is my dilemma.

Because what words are right to tell you that you make my heart smile?
See, those words aren’t right at all.
Its not a smile as much as its a cheeky grin, the kind of involuntary face twitch when you know you’ve really gotten over on someone, but that’s not the feeling behind the grin

Its really that you’re interesting.

You’ve lived the life of ten Andy Warhols.

And how can I impress someone who’s lived a life like that?
I don’t have any dharma bum tales, or stories of life on the road.
I don’t have any blues to speak of, my life’s been pretty ordinary – just a life.

I wasn’t up ’til four in the morning at a small cafe in Paris, smoking cigarettes and drinking espresso, writing what’s new, and fresh, and reinvented.

I didn’t backpack through Europe, meet up with poets like me, and join forces with them in our inevitable quest for meaning.

And yet I find myself leafing through memories in some pathetic attempt to find the place where, probably in a former life, our souls touched.

See, even “our souls touched” sounds so trite
                                                                           so cliché
So, I’m attempting a version of the truth here, even though my dad says there are no versions of the truth, there is just truth and I kind of agree with him on some level.

The problem with honest writing is that it gets boring real quick.
Honesty is dull, lifeless. And the great thing about poet-ing is that i can create whatever version of reality i desire, only the version i’m searching for is the one where you see me: bare, trembling

by Kat Douse

Biography

Kat Douse is a current student at SCF, Venice Campus. She enjoys her exciting career as a barista, and her challenging course load. She grew up in Brentwood, TN, and relocated to Venice, FL in 2002. She loves writing, especially poetry, and hopes to continue it for as long as she can.

Feeling its effects, my mind stumbles
lost,
Panic driving the mush of my gray matter to form the missing link between Allen Ginsberg and Saul Williams.
I find,
myself
In between the cracks of decaying words
crumbling,
detaching,
reforming
creating
new
bridges across decades from “Howl” to “Om”
reaching new horizons previously painted with “revolutionary breakthroughs”
telling, screaming, willing the masses to hear truth through
pronouns, adverbs (not too many), nouns, adjectives, verbs
verbs
verbs
Because,
writing is not the same as speaking is not the same as doing is not the same as committing is not the same as believing is not the same as living
Saul and Allen both will me to live the same freedom,
Just with different voices.
And as I slide down the “down turn” in spoken word, slipping through vague recordings and reading words on a page whose power is negated by the black and white print, I realize this panel knows nothing of truth.
This panel:
not comprised of collaborators endeavoring to create
not well-rounded with masters of weaving words
is not qualified to pass judgment on this craft,
just beginning its first phase of evolution.
Thus, confirmation becomes obsolete, as I wander through corridors of language mazes and printed powerless combinations
of
just
words.

by Kat Douse

Biography

Kat Douse is a current student at SCF, Venice Campus. She enjoys her exciting career as a barista, and her challenging course load. She grew up in Brentwood, TN, and relocated to Venice, FL in 2002. She loves writing, especially poetry, and hopes to continue it for as long as she can.