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Inferno
2002-2003
Allen County Community College Iola, Kansas
Editors
Krystina Burke
Ian Coday
Angela Terhune
Format Design
Kelci Adams
Aaron Rose
Sponsor
Erik Griffith
Acknowledgements
Bob Barclay and Mary Jackson in the Printing Office,
The English Division
Table of Contents
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Title Author Page Untitled Ian Coday 4 Untitled Angela Terhune 4
Love and Streetcars Krystina Burke 5-8 Memories Randy Bevard 8
Just Another Night Kayla Hanson 9 Raised Carson Doty 9 The Brain Dome Jim Diesel 10
Untitled Ian Coday 10 Untitled Ian Coday 11
Undertow Gary Reeder II 11 Caffeine and Nicotine Krystina Burke 12 Untitled Ian Coday 13
My Demise Carson Doty 14 Ghosts Angela Terhune 14
The Journey Tom Campbell 15 Away Joseph Schreiner 16 A Mother‟s Mistake Ashley Hurd 17-18
Faith Joseph Schreiner 18 Unrequited Angela Terhune 19
Still Unrequited Angela Terhune 19 Sitting here as time passes Carson Doty 20-21
and still memories wander Untitled Ian Coday 22 Shut-In Gary Reeder 23
Vessesls Angela Terhune 23 Untitled Ian Coday 24
The Seamstress Angela Terhune 25 Untitled Ian Coday 25 The Affair Kristy Pearman 26
Romance Angela Terhune 26 As I Look Into Your Eyes Kristy Pearman 27
Good Morning Ryan Hoffman 28-29 Morning Blue Trevor Hoag 30 Windows Trevor Hoag 30
Untitled Ian Coday 31 Without Angela Terhune 32
A Poem for Calvin Nicole Kay Kerschner 32 You Told Me Rebecca Spade 33 I Gaze Michelle Young 34
Untitled Ian Coday 35 Fear for Our Nation Kristin Conboy 36
Untitled Angela Terhune 37 Untitled Ian Coday 37
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Title Author Page Realization of Being Dead Angela Terhune 38 Awake
Untitled Ian Coday 38-39 Untitled Nicole Shroyer 39
One Hand in Life Kristy Pearman 40 In the depths of the valley Angela Terhune 40 Anger Jim Diesel 41
Unavoidable Carson Doty 42 Song of the South Tom Campbell 43
Thank You Sue Ellen Laymon 44 Personal Divinity Angela Terhune 45
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Untitled Ian Coday
Let‟s take some time out of time
And have a stand inside the time Dance with the devil under the moon Just so we can watch little girls swoon
Under the tide of waving hands
Spell cast deep from chanting fans Smothered by The fit of fire
The cost is high, falling from inclusion
Vanity kills through delusion
Untitled Angela Terhune
I live with Hope. She is an unruly child.
She pokes me in the ribs When I don‟t move fast enough.
She nags when things don‟t go her way, She cries at night when she thinks I don‟t understand. Not timid, is my Hope.
Like a child, I shelter her.
Deep down, I understand. One day she will take flight And take me with her.
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Love and Streetcars Krystina Burke
Okay. Limes, Tom Collins Mix, cherries, chips, dip, club soda. That‟s
everything. I head on towards the checkout area when I hear someone call my name.
“Alina! Hey come through my line,” yells the cashier, who also happens to be one of my least favorite ex-boyfriends.
Feeling like a bug pinned down to some very unforgiving cardboard, I have no choice but to go through the little bastard‟s line. “Wow. So it‟s been a long time. How‟ve you been?” he asks, while
scanning my items as slowly as humanly possible. I thought about replying in my usual snotty way and telling him that it‟d been a long time for a very
good reason, because he is a douche bag and looking at him makes me physically ill. “Well, uh, yeah things are good…goin‟ good. How…uh…how have you
been?” I stammer. Now why did I do that? Like a dumbass, I use a key sentence that will
inevitably prolong the conversation and invite him to tell me unnecessary details about his life.
“Buffy and I are still together; we have an awesome relationship. I feel so close to her already and it‟s only been three months. It‟s soooo bitchin‟.” see? I was right…unnecessary details. I‟m still wondering why he chose to
prolong the word “so.” “O” is probably his favorite vowel or something. Believe it or not, I somehow make it out of the grocery store
unscathed and with my lunch still digesting safely inside of me. I get into the car and start it and pull out of the parking space. It‟s hard to focus on the driving because tears start streaming down my face and fill my eyelids.
What was I doing wrong? I am a cool person! I am pretty! I have good taste in music! I know how to cook! I am funny! So why the hell am I
eternally single?! I go on dates with these morons who always have issues. There‟s either an obvious sexual agenda or annoying habits or sometimes it‟s just a
stupid sense of humor. Eventually the blatant sexual advances get a little too close for comfort or I can‟t get over the snorting when he laughs or he tells
stupid blonde jokes about wind tunnels and I just can‟t stand it anymore! I am not like the other women, though. I don‟t hate men. I love them. I am just not meeting up with the right ones yet. My problem is…hopeless
romanticism. That‟s my technical term for it. Four years ago, I rode the streetcar for the first time. Usually, the city
bus was the obvious choice because a bus pass is cheaper. busses are warmer in the winter too, usually. Not that it ever really gets too cold here anyway. All the exhaust from the bus reminded me of a malfunctioning
fireplace. The bus used to be great, but then this old man who always rode it had a death in the family. He would always ride the bus at the same time I
did in the morning and eat a ham and cheese sandwich. His name, for the record, was Stan, and he was “legally blind” so they let him bring a dog with
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him. His vision wasn‟t totally lost; I think he just really dug the dog and used blindness as an excuse to get the dog on the bus. Anyway, no one really
cared. Stan would eat the sandwiches in the morning and take the cheese off and give it to the dog. One morning, I noticed the dog wasn‟t there. The old
man still took the cheese off the sandwich; only since there was no dog to feed it to, he placed the slice on the seat beside him. Now, this is a really special and heart-warming story, but no one on the bus ever picked up the
cheese. Honestly, would anyone in their right mind pick up some nasty cheese that‟s sitting on a bus seat? It‟s not like they would be able to sit in
that seat if they did. So, the slices just started to build up. I moved on to the streetcar. Due to irreconcilable differences, the bus and I were forever divorced.
I‟m sort of lying. Cheese is not the only reason why I don‟t ride the bus. The streetcar has always seemed like a novelty to me, sort of a tourist
attraction, something not meant for the natives of the city. It never crossed my mind to ride it. Only once when a friend who had moved out of state came back to visit and brought guests with her did I think about it. I was
dragged along to ride the streetcar that ran along St. Charles. The streetcar was full, so I wasn‟t able to sit by anyone I knew. I sat
beside a lady with skin the color of milk chocolate and hair pulled back in a bun. She was wearing a maid‟s uniform and smelled like cookies. In fact, on
top of the purse she clutched in her manicured hands was a cookie in a little paper bag from the hotel she worked at. I only knew this because I stayed at that particular branch of hotels one time and recognized the bag.
“Those cookies are to die for. Especially when they‟re warm and the chocolate chips melt all over your hands.” I was trying my best to be
hospitable, because silence when you‟re sitting next to a stranger can be most uncomfortable. “Mmmmmm, girl, they sure are.” She drug out the word “sure” and
smiled at me. Our conversation went on for a while, when a morbid thought crossed my mind.
“Do cars ever get hit by streetcars?” I asked this because the streetcars run on a little pathway of grass and rail between two streets. Every so often there is a strip of concrete where a car can turn at and go on
the other street. I noticed a lot of cars get daring and cut it pretty close. “Oh girl, all the time. Especially when it‟s wet. The brakes don‟t seem
to work as well. It‟s always them expensive cars too. Lexuses and Caddies.” From that day forward, I rode the streetcar. It was a mere coincidence that Stan‟s dog had died that week and the bus was all cheesy smelling. I
would have stopped riding the bus anyway. I now had two missions in life. To find true love and to see a car get hit by a streetcar.
Riding the streetcar did a few things for me. I grew larger calf muscles from walking more, since the stopping points of the streetcar were nowhere near as close as the bus got. I also go a lot poorer from paying the inflated
rates to ride. On a particularly dismal rainy day, I looked up from my book and out
the streetcar window to see a man of about twenty or so riding an old Schwinn down the sidewalk across the street parallel to the streetcar. I
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watched him for a couple of blocks. He was pretty far ahead of the streetcar and started to cross the street. It was clear that he was going to try to beat
the streetcar and try to cut across. Was this guy a moron or just..seriously unbalanced? There was no way that he needed to cross in front of the
streetcar; he could have just waited. Still, he made it most of the way in front of the path of the streetcar but it clipped his bike‟s tire and he flew off. The streetcar slammed to a stop.
It was all happening so fast, I wasn‟t completely sure of how to react. I wanted to see a car get hit, sure, but this was a guy on a bike. I ran out of
the streetcar and knelt down beside the man. Even in his mangled position, he was handsome in an old-fashioned sort of way. His hair was dark brown and curly and his skin was tan. He wore
some sort of vintage suit. He didn‟t look dead at all, which was good, but his cheeks were flushed. One of his legs was bent all to hell though.
“Please, open your eyes. Hey, come on now.” I didn‟t move him, except to check his pulse. I heard sirens coming and relief started to sink in. I leaned back on my heels; ready to stand up when his eyes shot open
almost mechanically it happened so fast. He sat straight up and grabbed me by the shoulders.
“My leg feels like someone fat sat on it!” At that moment, we locked eyes and I fell completely and utterly in
love with him. I swear I could see the hearts coming out of our heads. I mean, his leg was clearly broken and he made a funny joke about it. How can one accurately convey all the feelings they have when that special
person just walks into their life? You‟re supposed to know, right? I rode with him in the ambulance and soon found out that his name
was Roger. As soon as he was coherent and had gotten his broken leg set, I had to find out what had provoked him to just ride his bike in front of a streetcar like that.
“So do you like to race streetcars for fun or do you just have really bad eyesight and couldn‟t see where you were going?” I teased.
“Well, actually,” he replied, “it‟s kind of a stupid story. For some reason I had this momentary lapse of reason and thought that I was actually coordinated, athletic, and ballsy and let my pride get in the way because of
my brother. We are always making these dares, childish I know, and this time…it got a little out of hand. He was really tearing into me because I had
just dared him to surf down the roof of the house and I would never be able to live it down if I didn‟t do this. The reason I was wearing this suit was just in case I died. You know, so they wouldn‟t have to change my clothes; that
was my brother‟s idea. For a moron, he sure does cover all bases. It kind of sucks that they had to cut these pants to put on that cast. I paid ten dollars
for this suit. Ohhhhhhh,” he started groaning. “What? Does your leg hurt? Need a pain pill?” I held up his bottle of pills and shook them.
“No. Well, yeah, but I‟m not really worried about that. I was just thinking…not only is my suit jacked up, but my bike, too. Damn.”
The only thing I could do was laugh. I was almost as stupid as my reasons for riding the streetcar.
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Last week, I went into the grocery store. I saw that same ex-boyfriend of mine. I told him I had met a guy … and it was so bitchin‟.
Memories
Randy Bevard
They last through time as we go through our years
They leave for awhile but instantly appear They bring us back to a time in the past And they prove that life goes by all too fast
They won‟t let us forget the hurt we‟ve found And they won‟t let us change-by them we‟re bound
They stand strong across the face of defeat By them we grow; they‟re all we can see
They can weigh us down and they can be a load Or they can help us do anything if we let them do so They tell us the truth when we‟re surrounded by lies
And they remember everything no matter the size They can‟t be shut down; they never grow old
They can only be thought, wrote down, or told They let us see what we can‟t through our eyes They show us the truth, even if we wear a disguise
They punish the wicked and show us sight But they always stand up for what‟s just and right
They give us cheer, happiness, and songs And we always realize we‟ve missed them too long They give us advice and warn us of harm
And stick to you like your elbow sticks to your arm They never stop and they always begin
And it goes on and on and never really ends They never leave and never go far away They will make your moments, and make your day
So when faced with a decision, oh what do you choose? Think what memories do you want to stay with you.
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Just Another Night Kayla Hanson
All alone
I‟m sitting here Watching the sunset Disappear.
Getting dark,
I‟m walking home Enjoying my time To be alone
On the porch,
I‟m looking up The night is clear Stars erupt.
Ending the night,
How I always do Falling asleep
Thinking of you.
Raised Carson Doty
He did the best he could with what he had.
This is supposed to be enough for me to call him dad.
So much confusion and a lack of learning. Growing up being taught,
that this internal burning, was hatred and resentment.
That I could not share. Who did care when you weren‟t there?
You weren‟t great. You aren‟t here.
You taught me nothing outside of fear, and not being a man
on your own two feet. Follow in your footsteps
I see my defeat.
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The Brain Dome Jim Diesel
The IT brain rules from under the glass dome
With arms and tentacles conceived by Rome. Will IT rule the world from the dome in which IT sits?
Well, we don‟t know but one thinks IT will give the world fits. Madder and madder,
Never gladder IT gets…
But doesn‟t know why. Sooner or later the world IT makes everybody sigh or die.
Within the dome, the IT brain‟s in charge…What will the future be like? Who knows? But one thing‟s for sure - we won‟t be smiling like Mike.
All knowing within the dome - when or if this happens for IT
Everybody who‟s anybody will be saying, “OH _ _ _ _ !!!”
Untitled
Ian Coday How much longer must I wait?
I‟m sick of waiting for
red moons and seven trumpets, rivers of blood and marks of a beast.
How much longer must I wait?
I‟m ready to go. Forget the flash and get on with the bash.
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Untitled Ian Coday
crawling up the steps
finding a resting place secure myself there upon a root of knowledge
until I take my fill inside shall I remain
but soon that dawn will come when death or wisdom sets me free I hope to hear the butterfly
Sing its scream for me I wish not for cicadas cry
Unless death begets death and emptiness
Undertow Gary Reeder II
Drowning in this sea of Sorrow My Pain a never-ending taunt
Happiness sits on its pedestal and laughs I get caught in the undertow
Dragging me further down into my pain
My hatred growing My intolerance seething
Wounds forever bleed that no one can heal
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Caffeine and Nicotine Krystina Burke
Drag myself out of bed, feel the pain throb in my head
the only cure is CAFFEINE AND NICOTINE
Food takes too much time to eat. I‟ll let synthetics conquer my feat with a little more
CAFFEINE AND NICOTINE For an actor, the play‟s the big thing, but in order to avoid the sting
you gotta have some CAFFEINE AND NICOTINE
Some say cancer‟s my fate, but the path there sure will be great „cuz it‟ll be with
CAFFEINE AND NICOTINE
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Untitled Ian Coday
As the bullet passed through my skull, I felt the pressure of what
seemed a thousand trains. I acknowledged the padding of my life and the state of a dream-like world opening before me. I had gained unlimited ability here. I could move like fire and feel the very air about me. I looked around
me with my new body of sorts, which I took to be my soul or spirit. In a confusing flash I looked from side to side, up to down, and around, found
nothing more than darkness and a vision. The vision: a slow motion bullet passing through numerous veins, vessels, and arteries. Breaking through bone and brain and with a puff of steam exiting the opposite side. This I
considered to be me at my final moment. As I ceased this inhumanly fast look about my surroundings and the vision ended, I noticed more clearly my
surrounding. Darkness and yet more dark, dank, evil blackness consumed my soul. The bitter cold air about me gnawed like rats upon my apparent skin.
There appeared a light as if from a doorway just opened. Within the brightness of the light I could make out the silhouettes of an uncountable
number of dark cloaked figures. With this, an apprehension filled the very essence of me and a fit of adrenal rage racked my bones. I took out in an
unfathomable rate and began to attack these entities as they grasped around the whole of surrounding space echoing off of unknown surfaces. This noise and pain filled me with nausea. To further my unease a most malign and
loathsome halitus* permeated the air. The stench grew the closer the dark cloaks came. Why, I puzzled, in my unloving state did I fell so human? At
last I managed to throw my hands around one and worked the cover from its face. With my hands about its neck I discovered the cruelest and most etiolated skull. It glowed with an eerie light and moved at a speed
comparable to, if not faster than my own. At last I broke head from body and moved to the next cloaked evil, closer to the lighted doorway, yet so far.
With the apparent destruction of the last skeleton, much worry about my own fate grew. If I could destroy them, could they not as well destroy me?! With this thought I awoke and found myself within my bed. The gun next to
my head lay softly upon the pillow. I had fallen asleep before my suicide.
*halitus: breath (Editor’s note)
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My Demise Carson Doty
In the event of my demise
I would hope that the time stops. When thinking of pain and trouble And all the endless teardrops
Made me stronger inside. That I lived for a reason.
Not that the reason would Need to be known. For many seasons Time has passed by like dust
In the wind with warmth and cold. In the event of my demise
What would be the stories told? I‟d give anything to see through your eyes. Just like the dust that feverishly wonders.
There I too will be on the outside. With the lies, truths, and blunders
Of supposed friends, true family. My accomplishments? Are you happy?
Ghosts
Angela Terhune
This town has its ghosts. The trees on the riverbank Are hung with teenaged suicides.
As you drive over you can see them Moving their mouths. Speaking lessons
Yet unlearned. Specters from wrecks
Not so long ago Once so small and loved
Lurk around us. Watching. Grinning. Impossible Monstrous grins.
Spooks abound around us.
Waiting For the first possible Screw up
To rain guilt down Upon us.
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The Journey Tom Campbell
I looked at the sky one clear night;
The heavens were glorious and bright. As I sat there and gazed, I was greatly amazed
At the glow of the heavenly light.
There were stars and galaxies galore, And nebulae and clusters and more! Tho‟ distances astound,
Still the light did abound And shone upon all - wealthy or poor.
I wondered how it all would appear If I were someplace other than here
And I‟d see the display Of our own Milky Way
Up close, and with everything near.
Perhaps, there‟d be a nebulous cloud, Its colors shining boldly and loud. Taking up half the sky,
I would probably sigh And ask, “What is hidden by the shroud?”
Or maybe I‟d be near a cluster Of a thousand suns with their luster.
The heavens would be bright And there‟s hardly be night;
Sleep would be a hard thing to muster. I thought I would enjoy the sky more
If from somewhere else I could explore; But I see I was wrong -
I wouldn‟t like it long. I guess that Earth is the perfect shore!
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Away Joseph Schreiner
Fly Fly Fly away save your sunshine for a rainy day.
Death becomes life breathless at night keep your deepest Secrets out of the light. Get away from me I don‟t want you to see, won‟t you let me
Be? Away. Away. Die Die Die to say what is right in every way.
MURDER IS RIGHT Dishonor isn‟t wrong keep your faith Nothing, and carry it in a song. NOTHINGNESS, LONLIENESS surpasses
SOMETHINGNESS. WHERE IS YOUR FAITH THAT HAS NO HEART.
We share this big blue sphere and yet we are worlds apart. You stumble in and flash a grin like you don‟t care enough At all.
Dare Dare Dare to do what nobody else will do, just say the Word and I will fly with you.
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A Mother’s Mistake Ashley Hurd
Death, dying
Mystifying But murder What gives?
Heartbeat sounds
Doctor frowns Patient knows
It lives
Smashed in head
No deathbed No chance of life
Ever
Feelings come
Want to run Bye bye to
Life‟s treasure
Mother cries
Half heart dies Doubts now
Too late
A Life changed
Years rearranged Wonders now
Fate?
Sickness, Depression
Hard life lesson Murder
Or mother‟s right?
He ran away
I should pray My choice
Or God‟s shined light?
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Forget today See a better way
Start to make A better endeavor
Must move on Baby…gone
Memories Last forever
Faith Joseph Schreiner
A lost soul driven From the dark
The silent song of a meadowlark This poem is pointless
If you are accustomed to reading Into things that do not exist.
Go on, Tax and exhaust yourselves, The point is,
You are educated Like the ignorant, the educated need not truth to live.
I have watched you make arguments for that Which you do not see Your precocious truth, a non-reality.
How much blinder can a sightling be? Test your truth to the bone for you will find
In that alone that what you know is still Unknown by truth, But known in faith alone.
No bare facts have you at all? Nope.
Just faith.
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Unrequited Angela Terhune
Given the chance,
I would devour your soul. Were you to kiss me, I would drink it from your eyes,
Pull it from the bloody strands of your hair, Clean it from your scalp.
I tell myself this is why.
You are not strong enough To withstand the bombardment
Of my hunger for you.
Still Unrequited Angela Terhune
When our time comes Who will we blame?
There is nothing more on the line Than out living.
Lives have already been wasting.
And without you, I am something slightly
More than nothing. That‟s the beauty of it I think.
There is no excuse for this unhappiness but fear.
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Sitting here as time passes and still memories wander Carson Doty
O.K. I need to be positive.
I swear pen and paper Must think I have
It rough or something.
Still breathing, there was This writing wrote one
Time, younger than Right now obviously
But I‟ve lost it.
It should be upstairs But I don‟t have
Time to focus or think Because I‟m busy right now,
And moving slows trains,
That constantly roll, Until movement pauses
Movement, and relativity makes more sense Than staring.
Which isn‟t polite. Springtime bloom
And one more year,
Who all has left Again, oh yeah,
Too many. Time takes away The boy in me and
My tolerance to communicate.
Almost a craziness brewing, But a lack of leadership
And I‟ll stand alone. I remember riding bikes And seeing those girls.
Getting yelled at by that Little old lady maybe we
Shot guns too, down the Street from your cousins.
Can‟t really remember
Been a while, a day or so. Then, that day you
Were gone from sight Literally poor kid I
Had to move on miss things that go
While time still Changes and steals
The childhood out of us all Well me anyway,
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And when it was cold My other friend
I‟d take your place, Friend I would have
Breathed for you I‟m sorry.
So much potential
And vibrant spirit. Does time steal things
That we can‟t have? Take back things said
But no past visits
Or the last time The sight made
A good time into Something big and great. Country cruising with you
And you, and you, and you. Where do vivid
Memories carry us I could go way back
I love my life really Shedding doubt onto The earlobes of few
Since 1983. Sorry, I‟m here Somehow still smiling
Still don‟t understand Things I‟ll never
Figure out, or, the things
I know will only oppose What I don‟t.
As I sit and think Of the times I broke.
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Untitled Ian Coday
moonlight dancing on salty waves
deep circles crossing through idle days old man, do you want to swim cut the strings just on a whim
lonely silence in cold form buffered slowly by the storm
searching for that point of light lost in silence till that night silver streaks run down my spine
filling too full in good time crossing though salty silver waves
ancient spirits catch my gaze bringing forth thoughts once lost the silent storm a troubled cost
restless for the sinking stone tie it on, to the bone
trace the way down till no more we will cross to the other shore
no more moonlight, night no more sunny laze, haze
I stole the jewels from that night blotted out the sun in my craze
goodbye, I‟ll see you all in good time
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Shut-in Gary Reeder II
I close myself up in this protective Shell I‟ve grown
Soak up the salve to numb how badly it hurts I can‟t allow you to see how badly you‟ve hurt me
MY SHELL IS BLACK
It helps me to hide in the shadows where you say I belong It protects me from the hurt you cause me when you look through me
Make me invisible And you
It seems your punching bag has become more effective
But my tendencies are leaning ever closer to the suicidal No longer caring
Dismissing pain Waving away those who care Driving them further away
I take all my but my Anger with me into my shell My anger is red
MY ANGER IS RED It serves as a barrier
Keeping everyone out Keeping everyone from getting too close
Getting close enough to see inside the Shell
To see my broken, weeping To see me contemplating my release from the Pain
Only to undecided my decision at the last fleeting moment To see how truly ugly and weak and pathetic I am They can‟t ever see how badly you‟ve hurt me…
…And no one ever shall
Vessels Angela Terhune
Pour yourself into me
In turn, I will pour myself into you. Over time
We won‟t know What was first yours,
What was first mine. Friendship and love make vessels of us all
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Untitled Ian Coday
Ahh…the city outside screams with vigor
Beautiful lights on fading entrancing Sounds unebbing.
A story, a novel, an epic I could not tell The wondrous life I‟ve lived thus.
What lies ahead but more paint and music. A light switch flipped not off, but on
A sensation as intense radiance from Within the soul brings me closer to God.
Bridge trolls defeated by loosing the damn.
Join me, my lost conscience. Into The now Plaid Abyss. Technicolor
Visions of past and the irrelevant
I grasp a hold of my whisper dream And find stardust left from What was once seen.
Now to rest and sleep.
Comfort is my pillow, assurance my blanket. Understanding my night light.
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The Seamstress Angela Terhune
Yes.
I am peculiar. Conformity‟s garments are a bad fit,
Restraining in places Loose and bunchy in others.
I will sew my own clothes Out of the elements.
I will wash myself in the fire. I will find myself
And get myself lost, And go seek me out a million times Before death and I marry up for keeps.
Untitled Ian Coday
A drop of Aether A clutch of fire
A breath of water Converged down into a swirl
Delving, cresting, thrusting These form, shape, summon My daemon
On my heart it dines
My brain it pierces and rittles Diseases my blood I twitch in ecstasy
Writhe in painful pleasure Poesy, my conscript of life
Is my daemon
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The Affair Kristy Pearman
As your flaws pour down on me
The coldness of your betrayal Turns my warm forgiving heart To pure Ice
Romance Angela Terhune
A hapless heart is road kill Once Cupid has taken aim.
He steers his tractor-trailer Towards his unsuspecting victims.
And us, we ROMANTICS expecting Harp music and heavenly choirs
Open our shirts For his arrows to strike true.
We are left to scrape our Still beating
Hearts up off the road. Asking…WHAT HAPPENED!?
It was only supposed to hurt a little.
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As I Look Into Your Eyes Kristy Pearman
As I look into your eyes
I see A kind, caring boy Who only wants
To find true love
As I look into your eyes I see A boy that I could fall for
A love that would be forever And take me away
As I look into your eyes I see someone who is afraid
To try to find love Afraid of being hurt
As I look into your eyes
I see A love growing stronger in my heart Too much to deny and longer
I know it‟s time to tell you
As I look into your eyes I see The anger in my heart
For loving so blindly A boy that wouldn‟t let himself love me back
As I look into your eyes I see
The pain, the hurt that I caused Cause I couldn‟t hide my own pain
That consumed my heart As I look into your eyes
I see Our friendship dying
A true pal gone Because I thought I needed more
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Good Morning Ryan Hoffman
It seems to me that my generation is waking up to a reality that we
haven‟t had to be cognizant of until now. Far beyond the assimilation of the “work-a-day” world that accompanies coming of age, what I am talking about is coming to understand the realities of an armed conflict and rising to the
challenges that such circumstances require. Now, I am not saying that no one my age understands what happens
in a war. That would be something of a naïve comment. We have seen the massacres in Africa and violence around the world on the evening news - though we most likely didn‟t pay much attention to such things. If nothing
else, the graphic depictions from Hollywood give at least a passing familiarity with the reality.
But to actually understand war in the terms that it means for the everyday future, that is something else entirely. To understand that your best friend is going to a place that is half way around the world and that he
may not come back, that is something else. To see the five-year-old kid next door and understand that he might never see his father again, that is
something else. To pick up arms and go to a place you can‟t even pronounce, not just because your Commander-in-Chief told you to, but because you care
to help those in need - and then see them try to kill you because you are an American and they think that you are trying to take over their country, that is something else entirely.
Of things like this, we have been kept blissfully ignorant. We have been kept ignorant by things like our world stature as the only superpower
and our sheer military might or two oceans that have kept us physically apart from other conflicts. We have also been unaware because of a great document, the U.S. Constitution, which has allowed our government to
function with stability and our citizens to live in peace. That peace makes my generation lucky. We haven‟t had to deal with
military conflict much. We were young enough that the Gulf War was barely within our conscious limits. Other conflicts have been short “air campaigns” or “peacekeeping actions” where few died.
These facts combined with the “I want it and I want it five minutes ago” culture that we live in has cultivated within many my age a few
misconceptions about armed conflict. The most dangerous of these misconceptions is that all problems can be neutralized through talk. In many cases, diplomacy has worked very well.
But there are some very notable exceptions. World War II ranks as probably the greatest example of the damage done by refusing to take action.
Granted, diplomacy should always be tried firstly and thoroughly. But there are times when words will not yield results and action must be pursued. The second misconception is that war is a rather clean affair. The truth
of the matter is that war is anything but clean. People die in war. Not just the other side either. American soldiers are human too. They are subject to the
travail of war. They can be injured and they can die. Thankfully, the numbers have as yet been small, but that doesn‟t change the fact that there are body
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bags coming home. In them are real people who have real family - parents, spouses, and children whose loved ones are never going to be the same
again. Even if that were not so, the reports of POW treatment by Iraq has shown us that the battlefield is not the most dangerous place in war. No, war
is not clean. Not even close. Lastly, many have come to believe that armed conflicts should take no more than two weeks tops. Perhaps our leadership should have been more
careful in describing the amount of success they expected. Or maybe the media should not have overplayed the “shock and awe” sound bytes we have
become so familiar with. But whatever the reason, our nation, as a whole, has come to expect any conflict to be solved in two weeks or less. Those kinds of expectations are fine in some instances. But the air
wars and peacekeeping missions of the 1990‟s have led us to believe that this is the proper timetable for any conflict when it isn‟t. consider our present
situation. We are there to displace a tyrant who knows he‟s not getting another chance. Knowing that, you can be sure he will play every last card in his hand to try to save himself. That being the case, we shouldn‟t expect this
to be done in less than the time that it takes to get our paycheck. But thanks (or maybe not) to the events of the past year and a half,
these types of misconceptions are being dispelled. My generation no longer has the luxury of ignorance. We have been called upon to defend our liberty.
Though the methods are different and the enemy more elusive, the threat has not changed. and like those before us, we will answer this call with a sound and resolute strength.
The proof of that is already about us, and when you stop to think it is rather amazing. There are people, our friends and our peers, traveling to a
foreign land to wage a war. They are waging this war to protect America. But not only that, they are waging this war on behalf of the Iraqi people so that those people can once again possess what is rightfully theirs. That is, the
nation of Iraq. You see, that kind of action has been the mantle that 20th Century
America has taken upon itself, whether by necessity or choice. Other countries give people food with their money, but America gives them freedom with her blood.
That blood is that same blood that was shed in the French countryside. It is the same blood that covered the beaches of Normandy. It is in fact the
same blood that has time and again freed the helpless from oppression and victims from their aggressors. That blood runs through my generation as well. Though the knowledge of these painful things was unknown to us for a
time, we now understand that sometimes great sacrifices must be made on the part of those who are helpless to make them themselves. This is the
legacy that the generations before us have left and it will be ours as well.
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Morning Blue Trevor Hoag
Soft reptilian skin
Coats the sky with broken scale And simple thoughts of morning blue
The serpent‟s light bleeds through To share its warmth of heart
To wrap us in white beauty A cloak of pastel flame
This Weightless path
Of quantum dreams Tastes aerial notions of doubt
And our star rendezvous with sea
Its fingertips caressing pristine waters
Tracing the lines of aqueous perfection Each touch creating
A concentric metaphysical wake
The motion whispers us a secret
And we are lifted from liquid slumber To bask in the sun‟s infinitesimal joy
Windows
Trevor Hoag
Tight round beads are birthed
In crimson ovum to grow with sun The wet black bough holds them firm
A web of veins creates this arbor stratum
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Untitled Ian Coday
I find myself within a Technicolor sea of paint. A miradic ocean of oil, acrylic,
and water color. Water of warmth and comfort. But now I must wake. I leave the heavenly land where my unconscious takes me and return to the now. The land where my conscience has forgotten the keys. The sensation of
mortality then pervades my bones. Or is it my bones‟ assurance to me?
Without
Angela Terhune
A crow calls A bus passes.
The moon shines. I breathe.
And my soul Is punctured
By the thorns Of your absence
It is an affront to nature. You aren‟t here.
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A Poem for Calvin Nicole Kay Kerschner
The light was bright around him.
Then without warning it went dark. The sky went dark and the fire burnt out. Sound of the phone was deafening in the silence.
The caller was crying and you could tell it wasn‟t good.
Then your heart fell and you know that his flame had gone out. You try so hard not to believe that it was
true, and then you realized he would never get another day, you never got a goodbye.
You only wish that you knew he loved you and That he knew you loved him. He left so quick it was like a snap.
With tears falling on your cheek and no one understands just how much he meant to you.
For every time you catch the sunset you say goodnight to him but never goodbye.
In your heart the flame he had will never die. Goodnight, Dear Calvin P. Watts
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You Told Me Rebecca Spade
I never thought of angels,
That is until there was you. You taught me so very much, Like we all have our own wings.
I would ask you where mine were,
You told me I need just wait. I was to get them someday, But when was not up to you.
I was so very young then
I didn‟t know what you meant. Where the wings slowly growing And I didn‟t even know?
My time in your life was short
Cause I was taken so young. I didn‟t get a fair shot.
Before I knew, life ended. What you said I remember,
I found it all to be true. So for the rest of your days
I am watching over you.
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I Gaze Michelle Young
I gaze out the window and watch the sun cast shadows through the trees
And as I think of you I hear your voice drifting on a summer breeze What happened so long ago that tore us apart? Where happiness once dwelled, pain is in my heart
Come back to me, from where you ran I need you here with me to walk hand in hand
And as darkness falls, so do my tears As I think back and gaze through the years But I take comfort in the thought of tomorrow
I know that someday it will ease my sorrow For now I sit, wait, and listen to the breeze
And I gaze out the window and watch the moon cast moonbeams through the trees
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Untitled Ian Coday
riding on the great white Horse
is this stony path the right course? empty black hooves clop the stone
reminds me that I am all alone
the droopy trees of willow the sky an odd surreal yellow
the great Horse remains calm i tremble, fearing something wrong
Clop, Clop: lonely hoof drop
endless path, there is no stop people, trees seem so sad
sky, odd, seems so mad Horse stops quick, something awry demons glare from darkened sky
mistaken stars of white on black red upon yellow to cause attack
what should be relaxed rotate actually swirls about irate
bucked off, away I fly my oblivion is seemingly Nye
to the cobble stones I am flung
but through I fall, as if shun sunk I did within the stones
strange sensation passes over my bones mirror images, different lands same in form, different strands
looking down at stones past through here they have a different hue
colors alive breathing here forces change in me, sincere all the colors breath in time
with my heart playing rhyme i am free
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Fear for Our Nation Kristin Conboy
I fear a great fear for our nation
As perseverance meets hesitation Other governing eyes Although may appear
Very wise Are frightened
Of the fear of our nation
On wings of the eagle
We fly high across the sea Fear is no longer an option
We must continue to be free
The hatred of others
Must not cloud our minds Our sweet dreams
And distant memories Will be destroyed at our eyes
The birds of war are singing now I hear them outside every door
Our nation must not Be afraid to fight
For the ideals that cherish Will be no more
The fear for our nation Must cease to be
Our nation must continue We must remain
To be
Free.
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Untitled Angela Terhune
There is a feeling
Of inevitability About us.
Like a chemistry experiment About to
Explode. I am addicted to the dance.
This predatory circling we do. Me sizing you up…
You testing my limits. The smell in the air
Is that of promise. The atmosphere
Is electrically charged.
Untitled
Ian Coday
Somersaults all the way to the edge
over the edge all the way down
to the abyss the world is flat
I fell like sunshine has left me
blind
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Realization of being dead awake Carson Doty
I‟m so tired that I can‟t think.
I feel that sleep is my next blink. I can‟t sleep with so much on my mind. Today I saw the misled as if I were blind.
I need rest but she‟s still in my brain. My mind is like a never-ending train.
To forget the bad in today is just a dream. I‟m full of emotions unconscious as I seem. I‟m still sleepy and I need to go to bed.
I can‟t sleep with this train in my head. Although being awake I‟m totally drained.
The remembered screams have still remained. I sit here and focus on the silent clatter. I contemplate the conversations of chatter.
Off the bed I go with you stuck in my head. To have your voices ruin my relaxing bed.
To awaken tomorrow to realize I‟d forgotten you all.
To write again about you tomorrow, dead tired I fall.
Untitled Ian Coday
The fantastic plan is unknown in full. All hope lies in the grasp
Of threads floating like loose wool, And when light echoes, we clasp.
Sorrow and pain break the firm Foundation of reverence. Questions:
All unanswerable in man‟s life term, But as spur, pushes us on higher missions.
Recent lick of light from my Angle blessed, shown upon
The fiber of a sorrow as it fly, Feeling great and most high at latching on.
A life of greatness You did take A man in Your favor and plan,
So quickly gone, nothing left except. Light was snubbed, leaving in wonder where we ran
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No easy fall or fade
My Neighbor moved on to a new Cast out by full shade
His house left most blue Taken by the demon cancer
Attacking at the source of hunger Symbolic of a double-edged lancer
Lightning strikes, I must be the thunder Like a father was He grand,
Others too still reside-casting a way Like guiding lights-giving out a hand
But none can forever stay. So, O Lord, your plan is solid
It remains to us to find its purpose When an end comes, I will not be squalid
Even when painful, much comes, I trust
So, I shall catch up Your fibers And so hope to be one myself, Relish in delight with other writers
And keep feeling and thought, both, on my shelf.
Untitled Nicole Shroyer
At first sight
Was nothing but love Larger than All the stars above
Almost perfect
But always a fight Cannot control With all your might
And at last
Our fights always mend Love Always To you I will send
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One Hand in Life Kristy Pearman
We were happy together
In our small world Two of a kind
A match made in heaven
Or so I thought
No matter how much You tried to stay in my life You still let her take you
And in the end it destroyed us forever
She can take you to her world I know you need her
To destroy you
And create you a new life In her world
So I‟ll leave
If that‟s what you want I‟ll walk away
With one hand in your life
In the depths of a valley
Angela Terhune
Joy came to town on a bus Now that he has gone.
Oblivion will come
Under the wheels of one.
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Anger Jim Diesel
Anger breeds hate „n discontent
so much in this world human energy is spent Love is natural, so fine „n real cool Anger is a learned behavior for the big fool
Whosever is angry isn‟t using the right emotional way.
The angry man is in danger of Hell‟s fire, that‟s what the good book say Anger leads to war, war to people
dying. Eventually anger leads to Mom‟s
„n Pop‟s crying To be angry is such a senseless waste of time.
Follow Jesus‟ words “forsake anger.” once one does that he‟ll
hear a loving chime. No war in Iraq
The lives lost none can take back
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Unavoidable Carson Doty
I can‟t seem to let go of people,
Seeing them feed off of feeling. Letting their emotions flow
Without even first stopping to think
Of how they could be dealing With the something that triggered
Rash decisions and words they figured Didn‟t matter if they prey wee walls
Apart. When their world
Falls who is so smart? The aggression that ate them
While their head whirled into Suggestions apart from common
Courtesy. Meanwhile the instigator
Sits cool, calm, and collect having no Knowledge that maybe later
They have two broken legs coming. Quite often, anymore, all of us have
Something to say spur of the moment. Easy killer, I‟m not saying names!
It‟s pretty easy to concentrate
When everything negative compliments How we all really relate
To what we see fake. It‟s funny to think that this
All started from emotions I couldn‟t take.
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Song of the South Tom Campbell
The April sun beat down on Jed as he returned home. Even though it
was still mid-morning, the humidity was already beginning to make the temperature unseasonably warm. Despite the weather, Jed rather enjoyed these little outings. Long walks through the countryside helped him to get a
better perspective on life. Rounding the corner of the old dirt road, he was greeted by the
familiar scene or his rural Georgia plantation in the distance. As he passed the outer edges of his estate, he could see his sun-darkened slaves working hard in the fields. A few of them glanced up at his approach, but quickly bent
down again to continue their work in silence. They knew the harsh penalty for laziness and disobedience.
As he continued his journey home, Jed‟s thoughts wandered back to the war. It had been three years now since it ended. The struggle had been long and hard-fought by both sides. There were many of his friends and
acquaintances that died for their cause. Indeed, there had been several occasions when he was sure that he himself would be a casualty.
Those had been tough times. Running short of supplies and soldiers, the outlook was bleak. Luckily, the Rebels had finally won. There were still
occasional uprisings, but they were quelled in speedy fashion. Life in these parts was starting to settle down into a semblance of normalcy. There had been many changes, of course. In an effort to prevent
history from repeating itself, the new government had banned the use of any mechanized machinery. Simple tools were still allowed, but gone forever
were the days of vehicles, carriages, and even the cotton gin. This necessitated a dramatic increase in manual labor. The losers of the war were sold as slaves. Through their labor the economy of the nation
was revived. The nation was much more efficient and productive now that it was before the war.
A flash of reflected sunlight brought him out of his reverie. It looked like one of his foremen was having an altercation with an unruly slave. The slave took an awkward swing with his hoe towards his boss, but the foreman
easily dodged out of the way. The foreman grabbed the slave with his right claw and held him still.
The other slaves went about their business, doing anything to keep from garnering the attention of the foreman. Jed inwardly nodded to himself. These humans were so emotional and illogical. It was good that the robots
had won their independence.
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Thank You Sue Ellen Laymon
Thank you
Dearest friend For always being there
When I need
A shoulder to cry on Or someone to
Help me laugh I know you Don‟t think
You‟ve made a big difference In my life
But you have And for that Dear friend
I am eternally thankful When my life
Was in a mess You were there
To help see me through So will all my heart
And all my soul
Thank you For everything you‟ve done
Thank you
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Personal Divinity Angela Terhune
How often have I said
I believe us all divine. From the smallest babe
To the dilapidated old man To the drooling vegetable;
Divinity is within. It cannot be taken away
With purpose or accident. Death to those who see
Doesn‟t diminish it. We spark with it.
We dance with it. We struggle and fight it
Within ourselves.
Maybe it even takes Lifetimes
To come to terms with it. But in the end…
I believe us all divine.
