Stuart HallPoetry & Art

Journal

HAVE A GREAT SUMMER!

THANKS FOR READING

2011 - 2012

192

Connor McKeon, Class of 2013

Santa Marquette giving his big ‘ol thanks to leaving faculty members:

Ms. FaheyMr. Demlinger

And a thanks to Mrs. Saltveit’s Digital Design class for creating this journal:

Andy Chung, Connor McKeon, Declan McBride, and Jean-Luc AV Seltenrich

Special thanks to the artists:Brandon Joa - Connor McKeon - Harry Conrad - Elijah Tolentino

Declan McBride - Stephen Everest - Jean-Luc AV Seltenrich

Very special thanks to the poets:Declan McBride - Brandon Joa - Sterling Kirk

Joseph Fink - Daniel Monsour - Dunham McBride - Eli MeatagueTyler Ryan - Kailen Santos - Grant K. - Colin Shepard

Hironori Imaizumi

Cover: Jean-Luc AV Seltenrich, Class of 2013~ Fort Mason, San Francisco

18 319

IdentityBy Declan McBride

We start in her roomBeing born againShe doesn’t know who she is or where she came fromThe only reality she knowsIs meOn the other side, holding her hand

We move slowly but unsurely from strange beginningsI tell her what her name isAnd how we got there.There, in that room with no meaning or timeHours passingShe still doesn’t understand my wordsLost in our own heads far,Far from each other’s.

Repeating my words I spoke hours beforeShe names herself once againAnd againNot fully understanding what it meansOr why it mattersCrying out to the world“What’s going on? Where am I?”

The universe has now been enveloped into an endless loop of infinityThat is now recited like a prayer.A prayer ofNamesLocationsAnd realizations

Her journey to the deep, dark depths of heaven and backWill come to an endI promiseAs she recalls who she isOver and over and over and over

Harry Conrad, Class of 2012

Stephen Everest, Class of 2015

4 17

A Thought, A Word By Joseph Fink

There is a thought.

There is a thought that must be heard,

There is a thought that must be spoken.

It begins, the speaking, with narrowed jaw.

and then a stutter,

a quavering of the lips, without a word to drop from them.

This thought cannot escape its prison.

This thought cannot leave the mind.

A tilting of a head, a wrinkling of the brow,

and this thought fails to become a word.

So with a slight confusion, a puzzling conundrum,

this thought fails to be heard.

A Translation: Reason v. DesireBy Daniel Monsour

Every day I ask myself these questionsLike do I give my best first impression?Am I worthy of having my blessings?When will I finally learn my lesson?

Because I tend to replicate mistakesIn my head swim words like fish in a lakeTrying to catch one and I won’t give upSomehow my luck is scarce no matter what

But my will is strong like Poseidon’s wavesWith a memory sharp as Spartan bladesWith my shield to protect my troubled soulAs battles with confusion take their toll

Like Hamlet, war rages in my lost heartTwo rivals fight to the death after darkThe first, being the army of reasonIn combat with the army of demons

Demons command the army of desireReason fights, using words to inspireFaithless temptations lead to deceptionAnd loss of hope leads to misdirection

Sometimes the army of demons will winOnly if reason decides to give inThis conflict goes on until your life endsThe strength of your will determines who wins

17 516

Straw Man By Brandon Joa

It seems to be that ev’ry stance and point Carries a facet which one can construe Manipulable by parties adroit In muddling together the false and the true.Assigned to ideas are motives untestable By demagogues who oppose those angles Laying a trap of perilous technique ‘Till the unwary mob is all tangles To quash the cause which their hatred did pique.More taxation? A war against the rich. Lower taxes? You are an elit-ist. Cut entitlements? Why burden the poor? Against abortion? You sick misogynist. Affordable care act? You want Marxism? Enforce immigration laws? More racism!For now a word cannot be said by tongue Nor an earnest belief be held in soul But it is replaced in the eyes of the throng With a malev’lent fiend, which dares to toll The bell of conscience, right apart from wrong.Discerning voices call to no avail The crowd grows evermore deaf and blind To the voice of truth, now turned to falsehood While evil is mistaken for what is good And the lines between are blurred to one kind.The horde displays its despised prisoner They desire to finish what he began But through the haze of the flames and the smoke One can see: they have but burned a straw man.

Southern SlangBy Sterling Kirk

Don’t bite off more than you can chew.Don’t try to do too much at once, or try to prevent choking and the need for the Heimlich maneuver?

Every dog should have a few fleas.Nobody is perfect, or is it unfair to the dogs with fleas that some dogs are clean, should we put fleas on those clean dogs?

Got you feathers ruffled.Are you upset and flustered, or are you growing something on your skin other than hair that needs to be combed?

Like two peas in a pod.Do we act similarly, or does my head really look like a small green pea too, cause I know his does.

If you don’t stop that crying, I’ll give you something to cry about.Would you punish me for crying? Or are you just trying to take credit for me already crying? I don’t need another thing to cry about.

That soup is hot as two goats in a pepper patch. Is that soup very spicy, or are you randomly referencing soup to two goats that are obviously lost from the herd, and probably sneezing uncontrollably.

We got the short end of the stick. Did we get treated unfairly and not get what we deserved, or was that an aw-ful attempt of splitting that stick in half? Why can’t I have the long end?

Like a bump on a log.Was she that boring and pointless, and have nothing to say, or was she the lady with that weird little round nose, that looks like a growth coming off a log?

You caught me with my pants down.Was I surprised and totally unprepared to see you, or can you please give me a second? I told you I was changing in here, you’re gross.

6 15

Lost in TranslationBy Dunham McBride

Meanings lost foreverOriginal ideas never seen againTwisted words straying from their pathTwisted people contorting thoughtsBeauty lostUgly lostGood lostBad lostA permanent subtraction from the equation of the world

Purposeful lossAccidental loss From language to language Person to Person Paper to PaperMind to Mind

But is it lost even it was never knownCan you gain from the absence of somethingIs the true definition of lost, lost forever

Purposeful lossAccidental loss From language to language Person to Person Paper to PaperMind to Mind

Declan McBride, Class of 2013

Brandon Joa, Class of 2014

14 715

Lost in NowhereBy Eli Meatague

Lost, found, lostTrapped, freed, trappedLost within your mindYour body trappedLost in nowhereConfused, dazed, confusedThe only thing holding you back is yourselfThe only way you live is by freeing yourselfThe only place to be is everywhereThe question is how.

Elijah Tolentino, Class of 2014

Baseball: A to Z Harry Conrad

Alphabet City. At Bat. Angels, Astros, Athletics. Babe Ruth, Bob Gibson, and Bo Jackson. Bang-Bang play. Braves, Blue Jays, and the ever-disappointing Brewers. Cycle-single+double+triple+homerun.12-6 Curveball. Cubs, 100 years and Counting, and Cardinals, success at every level. Contradicting. Deadball era. Don Mat-tingly. Dash to homeplate. Dinger. Diamondbacks, always quick to strike, Dodgers:powder blue and white. Errors Earned Runs, Earned Runs Average. Ernie banks, or Edwin, the Duke, Snyder. Forbes Field. Four-Bagger. Gamer. GOT-HEEEEMMM. Giants, 2010. Home Runs, Hits, Hit By Pitch. “Hammering” Hank Aaron. Inside and high or Inner half of the plate. Inside-the-parker. Ir-ving, Monte. Indians, Johnson, Walter. Kock. Koufax. Louisiana Lightening. Mets, Marlins, Mariners. Mickey Mantle. Nationals. Negro Leagues. No-Hitters. Out of the park. Outside. Orioles. Physics. Pitching. Perfect Games. Post-season. Phillies Padres, or Pirates. Quizzes. Rays of Royal Red Rangers wearing Red Sox into the Rockies. Rotations. Saves. Singles & Scratched Stars. Stolen Bases → “Swag”-Dictionary = Rickey Henderson. Tigers- Stacked in Twenty-Twelve. Twins- cellar dwelling Turkeys. Throwing. Underhanded Toss. Veering to the left. White Pearls. White Sox. X-rays. Years. Yankees. Z ? Nothing for Z . . . Barry Zito sucks

8 13

MineBy Colin Shepard

Watching Saturday morning cartoons And laughing with my sister about nothing

Soon I learned to talk and walk Each day, outside with side walk chalk

My days were measured in snack time and hugsCorny music and unconditional love

First day of school wasn’t so badWait two moms, what’s wrong with your dad

Its alright, I just never had oneNo changing now, what’s done is done

Big boy alone in his new school To keep sadness out, you make your own rules

about hitting and spiting and yelling and tears what once was shared, is now hidden in fear

boys don’t cry they only get madeven when someone makes you feel sadmakes you feel bad hurts you inside with a pain never hadwrites to your mom and asks for your dad

New cartoons aren’t funnyBut I can’t stop laughing

I live in a world were I think I belongThe space were all my rights have been wronged

I grew up to find this very strange placeI sit and I think and I plot and I raceBut not all is right in this world that I face

The boy that I knew is no longer here He faded away in the tears and the beerYet still he lives is in my jealous sneer Or when my heart is broken by fear

Connor McKeon, Class of 2013

WorkBy Tyler Ryan

Passion, blood, sweata tearIn front of allTime to crossoverthree, two, oneI see the lightsFlashing thisIs notnew to mea shadow isagame forme tounwind

13 912

“Unheard”By Kailen Santos

A poet’s language is the art in their technique,None of it is jibber-jabber, as many of you might think,This one is for all the kids who get called a weirdo, a freak,Writing poems in English class while people laughed within their cliques

Poetry is an art, a type of beauty and expression,Not just a bunch stupid f-ing lines for you to question,Now listen for the meter change, you might just learn a lesson,From the rhymes, listen up! Class is now in session

A word is a word, is a word, is a word,Every stanza is a message, to which I am allured,But what the hell is poetry, if you aren’t being heard,“I’m expressing my being!” now did that sound absurd?

No.

In my head a language, to you it’s all obscured,If you’d just try to understand, then you might just be cured,Don’t understand poetry? Well this line is the third,In the fourth stanza I write, does this all still seem blurred?

So to those who love poetry, you’re my flock and my herd,Let your thoughts escape the mental prison in which they are interred,You are among the many, a nation of poetry nerds,So spit those bars, speak that word, and never be unheard.

Experiences

By Grant K.

An Apple Pie Armageddon.American a-holes and the art of affect.Polar Bear blossoms and soggy blankets.Brenda beginnings with a side of curly fries.Courage, In-certainty.College nightmaresDo-si-DosThe Dalai llama. EnlightenmentEcstasy and the easy way out.Earth quakesFamily_ s failing. Flatulence and GrowingGorgeously fat.Hope in hopeless situations.Ignorance in injusticeIce caps in my juice and jamsOn the radio.Labron James jams on Jeremy LinHershey Kisses on my lips.Kangaroo kicksLoveOnly lasts as long as lives long to last.Lame.Mental math. Mathematicians and master debatorsObama and Osama bin laden.Oprah_ s omnificent end.Pride parade queens.Riots and human rights.A stench still remains.Ticklish toes and tough love.Unchanged financial crisisValentines Day. Wikipedia.Waves and white wash.X-menYams. YOLO.Young and yearningZen and Zoning out.

10 11

DriveBy Hironori Imaizumi

Never can I stopRiding with my turbo charged block.You wanna drive?You’ll see me blast off like a hawk,Smoke your head offAnd leave you by a block

Riding the I-90 over 190the autobahn in an automaticYou know my speed.Shifting gears in the sevenspushing pedals to the heavens,You know I speedover the limit andunder regimesstanding behind fences anddreaming of keys.

with the smell of tyrants and greedand nuke plants that make you bleedMy world’s just Murcielago greenRuled by the Lamborghini dreamblack confetti dropped from the skies to the floorbut the second sun is now a joke about warAnd it issues people awardsThe long fake stories about rewards

But I can only watch my speed bumps, being dropped every sunrise to screw my wheels up.some fools just pay cash so they don’t see ‘emand erase themselves so no one needs ‘emothers fool themselves just ignore ‘em,so they can draw themselves and have people want ‘em

On the streets, I always thought I had ‘emFrom all the days I felt cleverTo the roads that got wetternothing got betterNot even the game that I taught ‘emI changed the weather

nothing came togethermy mind just slipped on the waterBut It’s a just game to ‘emWhile they rhyme about their lieswe have to be silent for ‘em,sit back, and watch their heinous crimesswiping their plastic credit cards with rustOn their corporate machines they distrustProtecting their world that’s just messed upand telling me my translated words are made up, While I get lost and tear everything upTheir problems are far too simple and made up.just selling the dreams they gave upTelling me to send their maid up

They’re just enjoying the days I sold outwhen I tried to be more flawless with themwith nothing but sickness and doubtI hit the gas and tried to escape without them

The freeways closed downthe streets sealed upwith no roads downtowndrinking out of my death cupI was driven to edgeA tall ledge under siegeWith no surrender coming from my caronly the driver behind the hood of the scarI heard machine guns fire from their scorns.full metal jackets striking my car like thornswith nothing but the guardrail holding me backThere was only one way to escape this attack

Shift the gear into reverseHope that god gives us no cursereflecting on the fame, cars, drugs and vacationsscreaming better luck next time regulations

I drive.