Table of Contents
To My Mr. Muffins by Julia Randolph-Flagg
I can’t Remember by Rebecca Stevens
2:37 a.m. by Jade Murphy
Record Low by Gabri LaFratta
Spiders and Tarantulas by Michael Chung
In Silence by Julia Randolph-Flagg
Poisonous Power by Jade Murphy
Summer’s Constellations by Gabri LaFratta
Pieces of Peace by Rebecca Stevens
Monster Hunting by Gabri LaFratta
The Code by Julia Randolph-Flagg
Transit by Rebecca Stevens
The Destination by Julia Randolph-Flagg
I can’t Remember by Rebecca Stevens
2:37 a.m. by Jade Murphy
Record Low by Gabri LaFratta
Spiders and Tarantulas by Michael Chung
In Silence by Julia Randolph-Flagg
Poisonous Power by Jade Murphy
Summer’s Constellations by Gabri LaFratta
Pieces of Peace by Rebecca Stevens
Monster Hunting by Gabri LaFratta
The Code by Julia Randolph-Flagg
Transit by Rebecca Stevens
The Destination by Julia Randolph-Flagg
People of Peace by Michael Chung
As If I Were A Moth by Jade Murphy
Lifted by Julia Randolph-Flagg
1000 minus 7 by Michael Chung
To My Mr. Muffins
By: Julia Randolph-Flagg
To my Mr. Muffins, I adore thee
you bring me warmth despite the coldest days
as comforting as a cup of warm tea
responding to my calls without delays
Seemingly too delicate even to touch
our relationship based off of company
we are each the other’s safety crutch
When I leave its always reluctantly
But alas! you will perish before me
although you are cuddly, you are a cat
conversations are as hard as can be
I've gotta be social and thats just that
You only need me for personal gain
A warm bed, pats on the head, and friskies
_________________________________________________________
I Can’t Remember
By: Rebecca Stevens
I can’t remember,
The time, day, week,
month, or year.
I remember,
The sun burning my arms and legs,
Many leaves dancing in the sun,
A smooth trunk holding me.
I still see,
The image of the toy, bright and shining as I wedged it,
High above his grasping hands,
His face set, determined to reclaim it.
I wish I could forget,
His breath, a short huff as he met the ground,
The ice in me as I froze.
My cry for help, Mother running,
His tears and my guilt.
_________________________________________________________
2:37 a.m.
By: Jade Murphy
The clock reads 2:37 while
hearing your ‘94 ford from blocks away.
I turn off all the lights and slide beneath the sheets
hoping that just tonight you’ll keep driving.
The screen door creaks, your boots vibrate the floor,
and rattle my bones. Cursing as liquor spills,
stench of whiskey growing with every step.
But I close my eyes and dream of the past.
The you before the alcohol, and
before the gambling, before it all gave way.
Same hands that held me tight with pleasure,
now break the vessels beneath my skin.
My friends won't let the subject drop,
but I’d rather talk about the weather.
_________________________________________________________
Record Low
By: Gabri LaFratta
A message in a bottle
Perpetually branded in the brain
A quiet call for help
Towards the end of a loud day
Someone’s fallen down a rabbit hole
Whilst arriving at a morbid conclusion
That strikes me as senseless
When will they find the way out?
The line “You are loved”
Became a tedious beating on a drum
You are loved. You are loved. You are loved
Eternally played
The finale, so bittersweet,
A light flashed into the void
A glimpse for the victim
Allowing them to begin their slow climb out
I can’t remember,
The time, day, week,
month, or year.
I remember,
The sun burning my arms and legs,
Many leaves dancing in the sun,
A smooth trunk holding me.
I still see,
The image of the toy, bright and shining as I wedged it,
High above his grasping hands,
His face set, determined to reclaim it.
I wish I could forget,
His breath, a short huff as he met the ground,
The ice in me as I froze.
My cry for help, Mother running,
His tears and my guilt.
_________________________________________________________
2:37 a.m.
By: Jade Murphy
The clock reads 2:37 while
hearing your ‘94 ford from blocks away.
I turn off all the lights and slide beneath the sheets
hoping that just tonight you’ll keep driving.
The screen door creaks, your boots vibrate the floor,
and rattle my bones. Cursing as liquor spills,
stench of whiskey growing with every step.
But I close my eyes and dream of the past.
The you before the alcohol, and
before the gambling, before it all gave way.
Same hands that held me tight with pleasure,
now break the vessels beneath my skin.
My friends won't let the subject drop,
but I’d rather talk about the weather.
_________________________________________________________
Record Low
By: Gabri LaFratta
A message in a bottle
Perpetually branded in the brain
A quiet call for help
Towards the end of a loud day
Someone’s fallen down a rabbit hole
Whilst arriving at a morbid conclusion
That strikes me as senseless
When will they find the way out?
The line “You are loved”
Became a tedious beating on a drum
You are loved. You are loved. You are loved
Eternally played
The finale, so bittersweet,
A light flashed into the void
A glimpse for the victim
Allowing them to begin their slow climb out
That message
Branded in the subconscious
Constantly living in fear that one day
I will receive that message
in a bottle again.
_________________________________________________________
Spiders and Tarantulas
By: Michael Chung
Why must my brother be annoying? An insufferable nuisance. He makes me so mad I turn red and my hands turn to fists. He borrowed my lamp without asking. My lamp is missing from my room, and already I know it was him. Now my room has no light. The next day I borrowed his mouse. He cannot use his computer. He must be outraged, but cannot lift a finger. For mother is just in the next room, one yell away. Weeks pass, days grow more and more intolerable, and finally, we are done. We have a talk, for if we were to yell, mothers kindness would turn to wrath. We come to the conclusion that we need each others things and yet we refuse to release sole ownership of them. My brother and I then come to agree… finally. We are like centipedes and tarantulas. I do not know who is which. We share our rooms now and live in peace. Such as centipedes and tarantulas share their territory, for a centipede can kill a tarantula and a tarantula can kill a centipede.
_________________________________________________________
In Silence
By: Julia Randolph-Flagg
Silence is so foreign sometimes I wonder
if there is such a thing.
The word itself
is open to an infinite number of interpretations.
But I hear the silence
when the whirring of my brain grinds to a stop,
when the background buzzing dissipates into nothingness.
Why has silence turned into an uncomfortable thing?
They say that silence will drive you crazy.
Within the quietest room of negative nine decibels,
the average person stays sane for 30 minutes
before the brain starts attacking itself.
Perhaps the hullabaloo is just a distraction.
What makes us wrap ourselves in the cloak of noise?
Branded in the subconscious
Constantly living in fear that one day
I will receive that message
in a bottle again.
_________________________________________________________
Spiders and Tarantulas
By: Michael Chung
Why must my brother be annoying? An insufferable nuisance. He makes me so mad I turn red and my hands turn to fists. He borrowed my lamp without asking. My lamp is missing from my room, and already I know it was him. Now my room has no light. The next day I borrowed his mouse. He cannot use his computer. He must be outraged, but cannot lift a finger. For mother is just in the next room, one yell away. Weeks pass, days grow more and more intolerable, and finally, we are done. We have a talk, for if we were to yell, mothers kindness would turn to wrath. We come to the conclusion that we need each others things and yet we refuse to release sole ownership of them. My brother and I then come to agree… finally. We are like centipedes and tarantulas. I do not know who is which. We share our rooms now and live in peace. Such as centipedes and tarantulas share their territory, for a centipede can kill a tarantula and a tarantula can kill a centipede.
_________________________________________________________
In Silence
By: Julia Randolph-Flagg
Silence is so foreign sometimes I wonder
if there is such a thing.
The word itself
is open to an infinite number of interpretations.
But I hear the silence
when the whirring of my brain grinds to a stop,
when the background buzzing dissipates into nothingness.
Why has silence turned into an uncomfortable thing?
They say that silence will drive you crazy.
Within the quietest room of negative nine decibels,
the average person stays sane for 30 minutes
before the brain starts attacking itself.
Perhaps the hullabaloo is just a distraction.
What makes us wrap ourselves in the cloak of noise?
I remember my English teacher
pushing me to analyze
an image of a lone man in the barren desert.
As she bustled to the front of the room
and asked us to give our interpretations:
My classmates chorused “lonely”
as I whispered “peaceful.”
_________________________________________________________
Poisonous Power
By: Jade Murphy
My father always told me to strive for power
While looking down on my enemies’
Eminently shallow faces fall into a cower
Meeting you, I felt myself begin to bower
Your strong grip held the struggle of many centuries
My father always told me to strive for power
I felt your strength trump mine, my attitude dour
My emotions crawling through my veins like centipedes
Eminently shallow faces fall into a cower
My thoughts of you slowly devour,
All my decisions, lack of found remedies
My father always told me to strive for power
The taste of your lips everything but sour
Loving you comes with too many penalties
Eminently shallow faces fall into a cower
My aching for more, breaking my fathers vower
I lack his respect due to my tendencies
My father always told me to strive for power
Eminently shallow faces fall into a cower
_________________________________________________________
Summer’s Constellations
By: Gabri LaFratta
Summer rolls in and brings the miracle of light along for the ride. Single flashes of brilliance in the midst of the shadowy backdrop beckons. They were the constellations that I could reach out and touch. Letting one star scuttle across my palm, before sending the firefly away to live out the rest of its life. These minute seconds were filled with awe and never ceased to intrigue my younger self. Time has passed and I am older now. Single flashes twinkle. Dimming sky. Enticement. The fireflies are still constellations that I can reach, but something has deteriorated. Pondering this, I watch the firefly plod across my fingers. It then flies off and I live out the rest of my life.
_________________________________________________________
Pieces of Peace
By: Rebecca Stevens
What does it mean?
Safety taken for granted
Seeing with skin blind eyes
An eternally sunblown sky
Letting go of the only certainty
Everything must face
What would it take?
It would take everything we are,
The deep desire for blood
Selfish needs of the few
Outnumbering the many
What would it cost?
It would cost too much
The still after the rage
Never again new growth
It can’t happen
Can we have it?
Balance, the back and forth
Life itself cannot sustain
Theres no such thing
World peace
Will it ever be?
It has never existed
Searching for it, fruitless.
Planting baked seeds
Washing an earthen floor
Why do we try?
Hate grows to be expelled
Fear craves attention
Pain demands to be felt
Peace needs to be hoped for.
_________________________________________________________
Monster Hunting
By: Gabri LaFratta
I have seen the Loch Ness Monster…
In the Potomac River.
Crouching low in the thick green
Of dandelions and crabgrass
I observed my two friends
Na-Na Na-Na Na-Na Na-Na Harrison-man!
Screamed one of the boys.
Who had his arms stretched out in front of him
Trying to get hoisted up by the steady breeze
And carried away.
Unwilling to be outmatched,
It was necessary for the other boy to yell
“Graham-man rules”
Using their distracted bickering
I hopped onto the rock
And shoved them both off
Sending them tumbling down
To join the weeds.
Mid complaint Graham’s eyes widened
And his hand shot out
Pointing at the white capped waves in the river
It had appeared not a hundred feet out
Slashing down on a wave
Cutting it clean in half
Scrambling down to the river
We pushed and shoved each other
Wanting to be the first one to catch the monster
_________________________________________________________
The Code
By: Julia Randolph-Flagg
I am full of good intentions
and empty of follow through
in need of interventions
and many a review
Humans have a tendency to categorize
those people are smart, while those are not
thinking everyone can be analyzed
I am a melting pot
So please hop in my shoes
and close your eyes
put on some jams
this is my disguise
I'm like an onion as Shrek would say
The first few layers are barriers
to keep the bad away
This lessens the failures
Under that is a child’s heart
yearning for adventure, giving care
wanting to be a part
yearning for my castle in the air
If you have made it this far
I start to panic
I might act bizarre
becoming galvanic
I will push you away
this won’t last long
I want you to stay
or I can tag along
You still here?
well at this stop, as you can see
that I am filled with fear
needing to be free
Now I fear you have reached the end
There is darkness I cannot lie
but there is light around the bend
so please dont cry.
I like to think of my mind
like a hoarder’s many storied abode
The important things are hard to find
unless you have the code.
_________________________________________________________
Transit
By: Rebecca Stevens
Hungry Faces,
Lost, hunting, desperate for sustenance.
Panicked Feet,
Running scared, rushing along to distant destinations.
Suspicious Eyes,
Scanning rapidly, sliding over the crowd.
Strange Voices,
Murmuring noise, incomprehensible sounds.
Grasping Hands,
Fearfully clutching bags of prized possessions.
The Airport,
Bringing out the worst in people,
traveling to some of the best places.
_________________________________________________________
The Destination
By: Julia Randolph-Flagg
Roll down the windows
hold your hand out
allowing the wind to carry it
in a swirling etch-a-sketch pattern
swooping up down around the trees
Push a button
and you are teleported
into a song.
Turn a knob
and your head nods to the sound
—a sway, a hum,
a rhythmic beating of nails upon the dashboard
The volume increases
tires rotate into a blur
leaving you no choice
but to add to the commotion
of the stream of notes pouring over you
and you feel free to sing along
My voice is lost in the torrent of air
beaming sunlight flashing in, out
underneath the rich greenery
as I forget about destinations
_________________________________________________________
an image of a lone man in the barren desert.
As she bustled to the front of the room
and asked us to give our interpretations:
My classmates chorused “lonely”
as I whispered “peaceful.”
_________________________________________________________
Poisonous Power
By: Jade Murphy
My father always told me to strive for power
While looking down on my enemies’
Eminently shallow faces fall into a cower
Meeting you, I felt myself begin to bower
Your strong grip held the struggle of many centuries
My father always told me to strive for power
I felt your strength trump mine, my attitude dour
My emotions crawling through my veins like centipedes
Eminently shallow faces fall into a cower
My thoughts of you slowly devour,
All my decisions, lack of found remedies
My father always told me to strive for power
The taste of your lips everything but sour
Loving you comes with too many penalties
Eminently shallow faces fall into a cower
My aching for more, breaking my fathers vower
I lack his respect due to my tendencies
My father always told me to strive for power
Eminently shallow faces fall into a cower
_________________________________________________________
Summer’s Constellations
By: Gabri LaFratta
Summer rolls in and brings the miracle of light along for the ride. Single flashes of brilliance in the midst of the shadowy backdrop beckons. They were the constellations that I could reach out and touch. Letting one star scuttle across my palm, before sending the firefly away to live out the rest of its life. These minute seconds were filled with awe and never ceased to intrigue my younger self. Time has passed and I am older now. Single flashes twinkle. Dimming sky. Enticement. The fireflies are still constellations that I can reach, but something has deteriorated. Pondering this, I watch the firefly plod across my fingers. It then flies off and I live out the rest of my life.
_________________________________________________________
Pieces of Peace
By: Rebecca Stevens
What does it mean?
Safety taken for granted
Seeing with skin blind eyes
An eternally sunblown sky
Letting go of the only certainty
Everything must face
What would it take?
It would take everything we are,
The deep desire for blood
Selfish needs of the few
Outnumbering the many
What would it cost?
It would cost too much
The still after the rage
Never again new growth
It can’t happen
Can we have it?
Balance, the back and forth
Life itself cannot sustain
Theres no such thing
World peace
Will it ever be?
It has never existed
Searching for it, fruitless.
Planting baked seeds
Washing an earthen floor
Why do we try?
Hate grows to be expelled
Fear craves attention
Pain demands to be felt
Peace needs to be hoped for.
_________________________________________________________
Monster Hunting
By: Gabri LaFratta
I have seen the Loch Ness Monster…
In the Potomac River.
Crouching low in the thick green
Of dandelions and crabgrass
I observed my two friends
Na-Na Na-Na Na-Na Na-Na Harrison-man!
Screamed one of the boys.
Who had his arms stretched out in front of him
Trying to get hoisted up by the steady breeze
And carried away.
Unwilling to be outmatched,
It was necessary for the other boy to yell
“Graham-man rules”
Using their distracted bickering
I hopped onto the rock
And shoved them both off
Sending them tumbling down
To join the weeds.
Mid complaint Graham’s eyes widened
And his hand shot out
Pointing at the white capped waves in the river
It had appeared not a hundred feet out
Slashing down on a wave
Cutting it clean in half
Scrambling down to the river
We pushed and shoved each other
Wanting to be the first one to catch the monster
_________________________________________________________
The Code
By: Julia Randolph-Flagg
I am full of good intentions
and empty of follow through
in need of interventions
and many a review
Humans have a tendency to categorize
those people are smart, while those are not
thinking everyone can be analyzed
I am a melting pot
So please hop in my shoes
and close your eyes
put on some jams
this is my disguise
I'm like an onion as Shrek would say
The first few layers are barriers
to keep the bad away
This lessens the failures
Under that is a child’s heart
yearning for adventure, giving care
wanting to be a part
yearning for my castle in the air
If you have made it this far
I start to panic
I might act bizarre
becoming galvanic
I will push you away
this won’t last long
I want you to stay
or I can tag along
You still here?
well at this stop, as you can see
that I am filled with fear
needing to be free
Now I fear you have reached the end
There is darkness I cannot lie
but there is light around the bend
so please dont cry.
I like to think of my mind
like a hoarder’s many storied abode
The important things are hard to find
unless you have the code.
_________________________________________________________
Transit
By: Rebecca Stevens
Hungry Faces,
Lost, hunting, desperate for sustenance.
Panicked Feet,
Running scared, rushing along to distant destinations.
Suspicious Eyes,
Scanning rapidly, sliding over the crowd.
Strange Voices,
Murmuring noise, incomprehensible sounds.
Grasping Hands,
Fearfully clutching bags of prized possessions.
The Airport,
Bringing out the worst in people,
traveling to some of the best places.
_________________________________________________________
The Destination
By: Julia Randolph-Flagg
Roll down the windows
hold your hand out
allowing the wind to carry it
in a swirling etch-a-sketch pattern
swooping up down around the trees
Push a button
and you are teleported
into a song.
Turn a knob
and your head nods to the sound
—a sway, a hum,
a rhythmic beating of nails upon the dashboard
The volume increases
tires rotate into a blur
leaving you no choice
but to add to the commotion
of the stream of notes pouring over you
and you feel free to sing along
My voice is lost in the torrent of air
beaming sunlight flashing in, out
underneath the rich greenery
as I forget about destinations
_________________________________________________________
People of Peace
By: Michael Chung
1:
Once upon a time a man had a dream.
A dream that one day his children would live in a nation
where they would not be judged by the color of their skin,
but he was not the only one with a dream for everyone dreams.
2:
Dreams are one of the parallels of human beings for all
people dream. Proof that all people dream is best shown
by another man who dreamed of an Africa
which is in peace with itself.
3:
Dreams of peace exist and yet so little of them are realized, but
the dreams of great people always seem to come true.
4:
Although rare peace is not alone. For a man with an X once said
that peace cannot be separated from freedom because no one
can be at peace unless he has freedom.
5:
In addition an intelligent man once said that peace cannot be kept
by force; it can only be achieved by understanding.
6:
In the end peace is worth fighting for, but then again peace should
not be fought for. For a wise man once said that peace is its own
reward and the same man said that an eye for an eye only ends up
making the whole world blind.
_________________________________________________________
As If I Were A Moth
By: Jade Murphy
I emerge from darkness,
Such as a moth might.
Beating itself
To death
Against a flame,
In your arms, I burn
Just the same.
Odd beauty overlooked
But you saw me,
Like a delicate insect.
Jaded shortly
By dull feelings
Of fleeting hope and
Long lost healing.
Back I retreat
Where light fails.
A fleeting trace of
Your hands outline,
My frail wings.
A promised return
Lacking fulfillment.
_________________________________________________________
Lifted
By: Julia Randolph-Flagg
Dear lovably annoying brothers
You both walk together in smarts and athleticism
consistently setting the bar to an unmatched standard
racing miles as easily as I can quote my favorite book
making everything you do a contest, conquest
while I prefer to simply sit back and watch
Gliding through high school, seemingly without gravity
as I blunder through, with bricks around my ankles
pursuing your desires despite the obstacles
traveling the world with a determination that I envy
doing everything wholeheartedly
unwavering in your beliefs, if not a bit headstrong
I grew up with both of you, each holding a hand
lifting me up with a swing, a swoosh
your arms becoming my gymnasium, I your weights
bickering in cars, cuddling on couches
standing as one against the parents
Now I am here, and you are everywhere
doing exciting things, with fascinating people
you complain about the cold, I, the heat
in hurried phrases, and abrupt hellos
we sum up our lives, and say goodbye
Be assured that by the time we meet again
we won’t have missed a step, falling back into our routines
despite the changes of my height, or your beards
two people leaving me in the dust
only to spin around and lift me to their shoulders.
_________________________________________________________
Tiny Voice
By: Rebecca Stevens
By: Rebecca Stevens
Theres a little voice inside my head
It speaks to me of extended day and shortened nights,
Sings to yesterday, tomorrow and days long past
It tells me things, little things of great importance.
My voice breathes, whispers, shouts to me
Stories of real grass and imaginary sea
thrashed in the breeze. rolled in the storm.
It tells me all of this and more
I know you have this voice as well
Speaking of others in its tiny voice
Burning Questions, Troubled Thoughts, Long Opinions
It tells you things, little things of great importance.
Little things of great importance
Words of you and letters of someone else
The voice isn't you though its really not you
Its not you, whispering little things of great importance. _________________________________________________________
1000 minus 7
By: Michael Chung
He woke in a chair with cuffs on his wrists.
And saw a man in a mask with a knife in his fist.
The man’s name was Jason, what a serial name.
And slowly he said “lets play a game.”
And so he was given a thousand numbers.
And slowly began to lose his fingers.
The numbers were there to help him out.
As his toes were completely cut out.
The numbers served to keep him sane.
And very much aware of the pain.
What he did was subtract by seven.
A thousand minus seven…
A thousand minus seven…
_________________________________________________________
Biographies
Julia Randolph-Flagg enjoys participating in the grand sport known as procrastination. During great escapades of procrastination, she finds herself in many situations such as losing track of time that was spent petting random cats, scrolling aimlessly through tumblr, or looking for her Peeta so he can make her food.
Gabri LaFratta will recite "Ron's Howler" that he receives in Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets if asked. She was separated from her true parents at birth and was raised on a small land mass in the middle of the Pacific Ocean. She was supposed to grow up in London. She has escaped the tiny terrain and is now a professional monster hunter.
Rebecca Stevens has lived on a small rock in the middle of the pacific ocean for nearly her entire life. She enjoys long romantic walks with her friend and soulmate Tyrone (Big T). When not busy with her numerous Pinterest projects, she often takes time to appreciate the simpler parts of life. She believes that one hour a day of staring blankly at a computer screen vastly improves one's quality of life. She is also a strong advocate for the square dancing movement.
Jade Murphy was raised by a small raft of penguins in Antarctica for the first 10 years of her life. After swimming all the way to Chile, she traveled up South America into North America where she quickly learned English. At the age of 12, Jade worked for a year on a fishing boat and wound up on Kauai, which is where she currently resides. She lives in a tent on Anini beach and writes poetry in her spare time. Jade loves herself. (Jade is still in contact with her penguin family.)
Michael Nobuyuki Chung was found alone on a deserted island where he had lived for most of his life after being stranded there due to a shipwreck. He was taken to his original home, Starling city, and was struck by lightning. From then on he dedicated his life to the well being of himself by endlessly surfing the internet and playing games.
_________________________________________________________
Staff
Voting Manager: Jade Murphy
Content Organizers: Michael Chung
Chief Editor: Julia Randolph-Flagg
Editors: The Entire Class
Publication Designers: Rebecca Stevens
Media Director: Gabri LaFratta
Teacher: Ms. Nikki
Content Organizers: Michael Chung
Chief Editor: Julia Randolph-Flagg
Editors: The Entire Class
Publication Designers: Rebecca Stevens
Media Director: Gabri LaFratta
Teacher: Ms. Nikki
