The Illness
By Aryssa Ellis (4/10/14)
 
Curled up in a very uncomfortable bed
Breaths coming out ragged as tears gush hot & fast
This moment of vulnerability came unannounced

Licking at sensitive flesh to a point it is heated to the touch
Though inwardly, he is icy cold; goose-bumps popping up everywhere

The worst part is that his finger nerves can’t stop twitching
Nobody understands he suffers from an incurable sickness
Dies in unmentionable silence  

this is the world as i see it now
By Mallory Funaro (3/18/14)

your lips always tasted like clove cigarettes
whereas mine tasted like blood
because i had bitten them too much
and you were like a vampire

i remember when we used to watch old horror movies in your basement;
laughing when godzilla destroyed tokyo 
mimicking bela lugosi’s every move during dracula
and reciting the lines to jaws. 
i was so clumsy once 
and spilled the soda on your lap
but you laughed and said it was fine.

but frustration, disappointment, and paranoia became my friends. 
(i felt i wasn’t good enough for you.)
cellphone ringers became my lullabies. 
(you never picked up.)
and your whispered promises that we would have love everlasting 
became my mantras.
(i hoped it would make things last.)

our last kiss tasted like salt
because my tears spilled onto our lips
and you didn’t brush them away. 
i wanted to talk to you
know why you were moving besides “i have to go with my family.” 
i wouldn’t quit blubbering 
and you needed a way to make me stop.

unfortunately, 
you’ve slipped through my fingers like glass beads
and the moon (which you promised me)
isn’t mine anymore.

The Cycle 
By Toren Brown  (11/14/13)

You make me sharp
Then you break me
Then you fix me
I plummet to the ground
I get stepped on
And pushed around
I get picked up
And then the whole cycle repeats
Until you finally find me
And then I stab you
And you get mad
Even though you have caused me so much pain
You break me in half and I die

I’m Not Innocent 
By Toren Brown (11/14/13)

You pet me
You play with me
You feed me
You hug me
You let me watch TV
You let me sleep on your bed
You let me go on the couch
You think I’m innocent
But little do you know that I’m plotting world domination in your basement

Rage 
By Toren Brown (11/14/13)
You sit on me year-round
I scream I shout but you never listen
Now it’s time for you to suffer
I’m slowly stabbing you with wood
Slowly slowly killing you
But you don’t know
You still continue to sit on me
And someday your eyes are going to flip
And you will ask yourself why

Trend
By Toren Brown (11/14/13)
I keep you warm
You use me for style
But once there are cooler versions of me I am tossed aside
But we all know we are going to be tossed aside one day
So we mess up your head
And then it takes you forever to fix it

I Sing the Body of My Movements
By Paris McGee (6/14/14)

Watching me was to see poetry in motion. 
The fluidity of my movements 
belied the hours and hours of practice 
and depth of my dedication to my sport.

The lithe young body with each muscle defined
and well formed 
moved with the eloquence of a Russian ballerina 

I step to the competition floor.
My heart beats to the drum 
of my shackled breath.
My hands tremble when trying to release nerves 
through my veins

Eyeing the judge
They signal they're ready 
for me to begin. 
I face them, salute, 
then flash a phony grin
  
Silence shuns the arena
I jump, grabbing the bars
and swing with full force.
Skill after skill
my body naturally moves to the rhythm of my routine. 

My sweat 
like waves
wash heavily to the shore
of my rough skin.

I feel electric energy of 
lights and cameras, flashing constantly.
Swinging with full force
I dismount. 
Finish my routine. 
In perfection.

Dedicated to Eugene Sims
By Avery Wesson (6/4/14)

I became a murderer last night.
I gripped the handle hard
pulled the trigger
killed someone else.
Someone's father, son, brother, cousin,
all of the above,
Now erased from existence
by some kid
who has done this so many times
His face holds no expression.

It’s a condition,
being sociopathic,
gunning people down
without a second thought.
I’m not a psycho.
I’m just a player in the game,
but not the game you’d think
because I’m talking literal
My weapon is a controller,
my victim is code,
my expressionless face
doesn’t seem so crazy now, huh?

Maybe it does.
Maybe I’m just as sinister
and twisted
as my character in the game,
because I’m leading him down
this path of blood and death.
Because I control him,
does that make a difference?
I say yes.

April 20, 1999
Two kids get bullied everyday
and decide to walk into school with weapons
to enact revenge,
And everyone says it’s because
they were playing Doom the other night.

Am I the same person?
Am I some sort of simulated serial killer,
Programmed by the game devs
to walk into school with a fully loaded pistol
and pick off classmates?
Short answer, no.
The longer answer is that
while video games may be violent,
they are art.

And art can be violent,
art can challenge the norm,
and leave us questioning things.
Gamers aren’t mindless killing machines,
we’re connoisseurs.
We take in the beauty
and wonder
and escapism
that is gifted to us by modern day Van Goghs.

Take away gaming,
and you take away art.
And art isn’t made to be censored,
it’s made to go against what we’re told is
acceptable to give us something more,
something deeper.

I Need to Know
By Gianna Elcuri (4/10/14)

I need to know,
Somehow,
Our destiny matters.

And that you’ll stay
When more than
One glass shatters.

I need to know,
Our love
Is stronger than iron.

And no matter how loud,
Our arguments
Are drowned out by desire.

That’s why I need to know,
That you’ll stay when
There’s more
Than just yelling.

And no matter what
Our love will
Always be overwhelming.