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Streams 15Streams 15A WATERWAYS PUBLICATION

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STREAMS 15

Published by The Waterways Project of Ten Penny Players, Inc.

(a not for profit corporation)with funding support from

NYC Public SchoolsLearn & Serve America,The Center for Arts EducationThe NYS Council on the ArtsThe NYS Education DepartmentThe New York Times Foundation

The Empire State PartnershipIndependence Community Foundationand Fleet Bank.

Richard A. Spiegel & Barbara Fisher, Co-editorsA. Thomas Perry, Administrative Assistant

Richard Organisciak, Superintendent

Margaret Bing-Wade, Alan Werner, and Timothy LisanteDeputy SuperintendentsEllen Kirshbaum, Director of Arts EducationAlternative, Adult and Continuing Education Schools and Programs

Joanna Fuhrman, Shawn Banks, Stephen DiMenna,Great Small Works (Jennifer Romaine, Roberto Rossi, Javier Cardona,

Alessandra Nichols), Alison Ingram [Zadro], Michael Keck, lrw.net (RandyWright & Lucia Ruedenberg Wright), Ellen "Windy" Aug Lytle,

Joy Hewitt Mann, Ron McBee, D. Nurkse, Liza Jessie Peterson, ElizabethReddin, Louis Reyes Rivera, Jonathan Jay Sharp, Frank Stearns,

Thelma Ruffin Thomas, Karen Ulrich, and Pamela White Poets, Artists and Performers working with students

through the Waterwa ys Project.

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The Waterways Project is a program of Ten Penny Players, Inc.

a NYS chartered not for profit 501c3 corporation.Waterways, 393 St. Pauls Avenue, Staten Island, N. Y. 10304-2127isbn 0-934830-68-1Printed by The Print Center©2001, Ten Penny Players, Inc.

Paul Auerbach, Al Barbarino, Jennifer Beck, Grace Beniquez,Norman Benjamin, Willie Bennett, John Blodgett,

J. A. Brathwaite, Robert Budnick, Sal Canale, Mildred Connor,John Curtis, Delores Doctor, Peggy Egar, Donna Farnum,

Arlene Feldman, Thaddeus J. Flood, Eliza Forseti,Marie Genuard, John Georges, Jack Giordano, David Glick,

George Goldschlag, Steve Good, Maura Gouck, Lynda Gregg,Edna Gruber, L. Hale-Sims, Tzion Halali, Lucie Harris,

Patricia Jones-Bryant, Roslyn Kaye, Ronald G. King,Chris Lehmann, Myrtle Liburd, Bryna Malik, Tawana Martin,

Joan Martinez, Hazel Meade, Max Mendes, Tom Mitchelson,Nina Morris-Farber, Onetia Murray, Moli Ntuli,

David Pambianchi, Kissoonlall Ramkaran, Leila Riley,Judith Rosenbaum, Cesar Roquez, Dolores Russo,Marilyn Savitt, Jessica Seessel, Valeria Simmons,Brenda Sincere, Connie Sommer, Robyn Stuart,

Kerry Daly Sullivan, Toni Anne Tepedino, Alfrieda Thompson,Mary Tisi, Chloe Waller, Tyona Washington, Anthony West,

Garth Wolkoff, Katherine Spellman Zaccor

School faculty members encouraging, recognizingand publishing student expression

...there should be anthologies which explain instead of evaluating: whichdemonstrate, say, the rise and fall of a certain way of looking at theworld, by reproducing its most typical, influential, or exaggeratedexpressions . . .

Randall Jarrell

Poetry and the Age

Streams 15 is dedicated to the memory of

V i j a y R a h i m

(1976-2001)

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STREAMS 15TABLE OF CONTENTS

the drum beating to my soulMy Streams of Dreams by Simon Heyliger 2Listen to the Song of My Small Island

by Yadyra Clemente 3Rain Fall by Alicia Green 4Poems by Shalander Delaire 5-6Light by Jasmine Gilmore 6Music's Beat by Brittney Green 6A Simple Twist of Life by Kelly McCloskey 7

Take a Walk by Chinalese Elias 8The Beats by Curton Hector 9Times Square by Shirron Gulliver 10The Drum by Natiefa Ashley 11Tell Me Slim Can't Do It by Kaleek Davis (Slim) 12Adam Manning 13Candice Sanchez 13Kamal Hosein 14

remember those timesNothing to Do by Sancheska Rosa 16Live by Tara Pober-Thompson 17-18The Boys Who Exaggerate by Tricia Victory 18

St. Thomas Memories by Craig George 19Day in My Life by Andrew Boynton 19Where I'm From by Taffawee Richards 20I See the Birds by David Kaen 21

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The City by Debra Kepke 22Just Remember by Bryan Pierce 23-24Diamond by Shakyee Brown 25Tired by Kedar Northington 26

my pain will disappearI'm Sorry by Linda Lowman 28Letter of Apology by Terrence Graham 29SM 30

Enough Tears by Elana Cohen 31Inside by Jo Ann Gajadhar 32Anthony Sabater 33Fear by Chiemela Onukwue 33God, Listen to My Cry! by RS 34Why Do We Fear? by Jean Erven 35

Cancer by Yasmeen Ghee 36Let Me Tell You Who I Hate by Shakyee Brown 37Dearest Friend by Yadyra Clemente 38Embarrassment by Chiemela Onukwue 39Advice by Michael McDonald 40Split Personality by Michelle James 41

things had changed between usIf It Happens by Stacy Merriweather 43My First Time by Tasanyia Kurleeia Princess Sebro 44-45We Were Little by Randy Samuels 46My Favorite Holiday by Linda Lowman 47Do Thugs Fall in Love? by Derrick A. Thomas Jr. 48

CL 49Don't by Evangelina Baez 50-51Trust by Shakyee Brown 52Life by Sancheska Rosa 53

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Laughter by Chrismarie Castillo 54Harsh Reality by Debra Kepke 55Hair by David Kaen 56My Time by Latoya Charles 57Blessed Be by Bryan Pierce 58Breakthrough by Terri Brown 59The Coming of Spring by Debra Kepke 60The Issues I Still Need to Face in Life

by Jeanette Carrasquillo 61-62

who are you?I Am by Jo Ann Gajadhar 64I Am, New York by Tara Pober-Thompson 65Replication by Adrian Agredo 66Who Am I? by Linda Lowman 67

Please Look a Little Deeper by Jesenia Hernandez 68The Real Me by Bryan Pierce 69Who Am I? by Jennifer Jordan 70Who I Am by Jean-Baptiste Wenael 71Siamese Eyes by Ippolita di Paola 71I Am a Man by Shakyee Brown 72

Most Wanted by Kedar Northington 72Who Am I? by Jean Erven 73I Am by Adelina Mendez 74-75JW 75Omar Wimberly 76-77Bio-Poem by Latoya. A. Isaac 77Who Are You? by Kevin Williams 78

Family by Stacy Merriweather 79-81Still Waters by Eustashia Raymond 82Time by Jean Erven 83

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my sense is not commonOne Day, One Time by Terri Brown 85Late Night by Sharif Rosa 86Shining by Sancheska Rosa 87Watch Us Moon by Sharimar Santana 88Unforeseen by Terri Brown 89I Dream by Kelly McCloskey 90-91Dream Sequence 1 by Jeffrey Williams 92Oblivion's Misapprehension by Jeffrey Williams 93-94

The Dreamer by Latoya Charles 95Dreams by Jennifer Yannuci 96Drowning by Adrian Agredo 97-98Skyscraper by Joseph Cummings 99Wake Up by Debra Kepke 100My Mickey Mouse by Jo Ann Gajadhar 101

Love Between a Scent and a Catby Tara Pober-Thompson 102-103

A Bit of Bitter or Better Attentionby Tara Pober-Thompson 103

Just Shy by Terri Brown 104Smile by Andrew Spencer 104

The Stone by Tara Pober-Thompson 105Not BreakAway by Kelly McCloskey 106Curtis "Chewy" Ferguson 106My Heart Is So Cool by Randy Samuels 107Omar Wimberly 108One Phone Call by Andrew Boynton 109The Person at the Door by Simon Heyliger 110

To Whom I Miss by Jean Erven 111Times Square in Our Life by Clayton Campbell 112The Characteristics of Chasing a Day Dream

by Adrian Agredo 113-115

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2πr by Eustashia Raymond 116-117#Sexual Object/Sex Symbol

by Anandi Gangaram a.k.a AQUA 118Be With You by Sancheska Rosa 119My Tree by Elana Cohen 120Linda Street 121Lies by Jorge Douglas 122What Is a Lie? by Markus Mkdonald 122Thinking by Aloysia Chery 123

My Finger by Randy Samuels 124Voice of the Angel by David Kaen 125-126Poem by Clayton Campbell 126Omar Wimberly 127

author index

title index

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the drum beating

to my soul

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Simon HeyligerMy Streams of Dreams

I fell into a streamfull of oriental fishesswimming galantly to thecorner of the world.

“La La Laaaaa!”

Who is that?It's my grandma singinga melody.

I turn around to see, to seethree apples on a tree.

One was red, the other wasgreen. The last couldn'tbe seen.

The sky was dark but gray.The last apple was singing, "Simon,Simon." The other apples sat therestill, waiting for the inevitable.Not soon but near . . .

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Yadyra ClementeListen to the Song of My Small Island

Escouche the rhythms of the island musicflying through the air.Escouche the cheer for the salserosplaying their congas.Escouche the muchacha giggling asthey dance an El Espirito.

Escouche the slamming of dominoeson a table as the biejos play the game.Escouche the screams of children runningtowards La Dona's house wherethey can buy fruited limbers.Escouche the chitter chatter of mujeres

conversing about the latest noticiosdel barrio.Escouche la cancion de me isla peguena.

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Shalander DelairePoems

Come along with me.I'm going to take you to a placewhere you hear — splish splash — on the rocks

and you can see the sun sparkle on the water.You can hear the birds chirping all around.

You'll feel like no one's there.

There you can feel the sandtingling under your feet.You can lay on the green green grassand hear the trees going — sh, sh, sh.

You can hear the humming beesgoing — buzz buzz buzzand making you want to sleep.the smell of the salt watermakes you feel stress free.

Sitting down in Tech Parkone cold and winter night,looking at the lights andthe buildings that surround me,makes me feel like no one cares.

But a cool air hits my cheeks

and a cool chill passes through my bodyand I realize that something cares.

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The wind blew — woo woomaking me feel like we are one.Looking at the skyI could see the stars sparkling so bright.It makes me feel like I'm one too.

Jasmine GilmoreLight

Light is turned down dim.A lot of people dancing;music's playing loud.

Brittney GreenMusic's Beat

Music's beat is fast, slowloud, low. It's rhyming with rhythmall around.It's love, peace, warand knowledge.Listen and enjoy as it takes you away.

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Kelly McCloskeyA Simple Twist of Life

Lose yourselfin the song.

Find yourselfin his love.

Keep dreamingafter the night is done.

Stay awakewhen the sun is gone.

Tomorrow could be the end.Today's your last try.Just do it before

you lose your chance to shine.

Don't think too much.Don't jump too far.

Live lifeas who you are.

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Chinalese EliasTake a Walk

We take a walkthrough the park,slow like a snail.Shh, shh, shh — the windgoes through our ears.You can hear the

branches as they gocrr-crr-er, as one of them bends and breaks.Take a walk through the park.You can smell the roses as you pass.Hear the bird's song,a lovely song saying,

"good day,"to every one passing by.

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Shirron GulliverTimes Square

I heard all different kinds of noises.Ha, ha, ha — people laughing.Car horns blowing.Oh, no! Too much noise.

Cheap, cheap — a man was chirping

like a bird.Please stop the noise, noise.Oh, no! Too much noise.

People were talking, talking.What were they talking about?

I really don't know.Please, please! Stop the noise.

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Natiefa AshleyThe Drum

In the auditoriumI go budum buduff budumbuduff.I hear the drum.I hear the drum beating in my ears.It makes me jump.It makes me jump jamming on the ground.

In the auditorium there I go.I hear the drum.I hear the drum beating to my feet.It makes me run.It makes me run ramming in the hall.

Budum buduff budumbuduff.In the auditorium there I go.I hear the drum.I hear the drum beating to my soul.It makes me feel.It makes me feel joy cradling in my soul.

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Kaleek Davis (Slim)Tell Me Slim Can't Do It

Tell me I can't do itand I will prove you wrong.Tell me I can't use itand watch it be gone.Tell me to give upand watch me give more.

Tell me to bring it to an endthen watch me endure.Tell me that you doubt meand I'll increase your belief.Say horrible things about meI'll contradict with my life's bequeath.

Forbid me the feastand I'll take your plate as you prepare to eata meal I already ate.Please underestimate meand before long I shall surmountgreatly and prove all doubters wrong.

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Adam Manning

Poetry is like jazz and rap,

because it is mellow and it can be hard-core.

Poetry does not have to rhymeall the time.You can switch it up and say something else.

I say that poetry is rap and jazzput together.

Candice Sanchez

Poetry is something that people writefrom the heart.Things that they may feelwhether it is good or bad.Rap is a type of poetry.It can express how a person may feel or somethingthat is just running through her head.Raps usually do rhyme,but all poetry doesn't rhyme.Only some of it.

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Kamal Hosein

To me,

poetry represents the thoughtsof the artist.Some artists' thoughts go deeperthan others and they come up withmetaphors and similes which comparetwo things that may have a connection

or they may not be connected at all.

It does not always have to rhyme.I think that rap is a form of poetry,but it is sort of in its own class.Most good rappers started writing theirlyrics through poetry.Poetry and rap are in two differentclasses, but they are connected throughthe urban cultures.

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remember those times

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Sancheska RosaNothing to Do

Wake up in the morning.

Come home in the afternoon.

At night watch TV and thenthere's nothing else to do.

I go to my room and just lieon the bedwith the same thought runningthrough my head.

Maybe one day I'll do something good,but for now I have nothing to do.

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Tara Pober-ThompsonLive

And the food in a jar at home says "Live"Live, live, livefull of squirming microorganismshemp seeds, germinated in Alpine spring waterand most of all "Live."I wonder: Am I eating meat?

If it's live?Could I eat a rabbit with clawed feet hanging from my

teeth,"Live?"Could I eat a turnip,round, starchy

from the earth, green tops and all?Could I eat it live?

The possibilities stretch before meas I stare at the cockroach.Dead.Boric acid death.In Nick’s apartmenton the floor, a tomb of white powder and pasta

crumbs.Dead, dead as fine white semolina.Eat me quick before I die.Love was unrecognized,

weary, stiffwith disusebut still aliveas I lay

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face up to the ceiling fanmy legs intertwined with his.

We discussed everythingex loverstheologyphilosophy and sex.

When I left to jump the A trainfrom Dyckman Street he kissed me

with his cheeks sucked close to his bonesand asked,"Are you sorry you stayed?"

No, because I finally felt alive.

Tricia VictoryThe Boys Who Exaggerate

The boys in class exaggerateon their lives and on their sex life,like they need everybody to knowwhat they do when the door is closed.

They exaggerate so much that they forgetwhat they say to you when they talk.

That's what they get for exaggeration.

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Craig GeorgeSt. Thomas Memories

I'm making chaos,misbehaving,running around the projectswith my friends;Reggae music,warm weather,

beautiful sun.I was a troublesome boyon a beautiful island.

Andrew BoyntonDay in My Life

Day in my lifeis not alright.I hustle

all day and night just to keepmy pocket right.My life is avery messed uplife.

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Taffawee RichardsWhere I'm From

I'm from Olinville,where your heart has to be tremendous.Windows are broken,doors are torn off the hinges.No dog in the yard.There are no white picket fences.

Just hustlers on the cornerwith crills in their dentures.Walk with me through all my adventures.My block is like another dimension,where girls drink Kool-Aid and flaunt extensions.We don't respect the law,

so there is always tension.The scent of urine isall over the benches.

We go to funeralslike we go to school.Half my friends are dead, andsometimes my eyes don't move.My best friend killedbecause of flaunting jewels.My fam was stabbed upwhile buying juice.Murders on my block

never reach the news.Olinville the only thing I'm used to.

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David KaenI See the Birds

Every morning, I see the birds gathered together onthe streets.

Pigeons of many colors swarm to peck at the crumbson the streets.

The people walk past, kids chase them off the streetsand others spit at them.

The birds are alive,hungry and always in danger,but people don’t care.

But there is the lady who feeds the birds.

The lady who brings bread crumbs and scatters themon the street for the birds to eat.And the birds come, even though they don’t

understand, they eat in thanks.And the lady needs the birds, and the birds need the

lady and so they are friends.

The birds are alive,hungry and always in danger,but she cares and she helps.

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Debra KepkeThe City

Diamond-like, shinyraindrops falling quickly tothe buildings below.

After awhilethe clouds will clear up and then

the night sky is seen.

I wish that I couldsee the stars shining abovein the clear night sky.

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Bryan PierceJust Remember

Remember those days as a childsitting and asking mom, "Can I go outside?"Remember those times you didn’t have a careof what you did, who you knew, or what you would wear?Don’t you remember having to have a baby-sitter?And, your mother making you go everywhere with her?

Remember how the little things used to make you happy?And, grown ups always telling you,

"It’s time for your nap."Remember those childhood games like tag

and hide-and-go-seek?Remember those times when you scraped your knee?

Try to think back when you were in schooland would laugh at anything just to act like a fool.Try to remember when every question started with,

"Why?"And thinking that you would live forever and not die.Remember just you and your gang of friendsgoing to the park, playing games that never end.Just think about the first day of school.You couldn't wait to wear all the clothes that were new.Remember those times when the kids all put a foot

in to pick who was "it"?Remember the words, "Dick, Dick, Dog $#!?" —

Who made this up?

Try to think back on going to the corner store —a bag of chips, gum, and candy was all you wanted.You used the phrase, "I got my cootie shots."And, eating those ices when it got hot.

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Wintertime came and you would play in the snow,making angels, snowmen, and snowballs you would throw.The little kid birthday parties, and the musical chairs.Oh boy! Oh boy, were those the years.Then your first graduation and you lose contact with

some friends.While others you grew apart from; childhood was

coming to an end.You grew up into this new person—

a little taller, and a little bit of cursing.You began to learn about the birds and the bees,and heard this saying over and over, "Money

doesn’t grow on trees."These days, these years, went by so fast and soonbefore you knew it, you’re in full bloom.

Soon you will be leading your own life,no mommy, daddy, grandparents telling you what’s right.No longer do you have to ask can you go outside or

play with whomever,because you’re an adult now and you should know better.The dumb things you used to do you have suddenly

stopped,bad habits going away and new ones coming about.Soon maybe you'll be having kids,but just try to remember your youth and how being

a kid is.

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Shakyee BrownDiamond

I used to date this girl named Diamond.I didn’t like her looks.I didn’t like her money.I only liked her for who she was.This was the only girl I bought flowers for.This was the only girl I spent a night with in a hotel.This was the only girl I let come visit me everyday.She let me meet her family,and I let her meet my family.I spent one night at her house,but for the respect for her mother,I slept on the couch.We went to the movies to see "Best Man"

and she asked me was I ever going to get married.And I said only to her.But now my dreams are shattered,because not so long ago,while I was incarcerated,she was raped and murdered,

and her body was left on top of a roof.Ever since she died,I think about the times we spent together,and all the fun we had.But, all those times are memories.Now I wish I wasn’t locked up,because if I wasn’t, I probablywould have been married to her.This is the only girl I could have said I love.Rest in peace,Diamond.

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Kedar NorthingtonTired

I’m tired of allthe things that I do.I’m tired of spendingtime with you.I’m tired of jail-time.I’m tired of all the stress.

Time in the past I thoughtMy life was the very best.I’m tired of drug dealersselling evil things.I’m tired of crooked copsacting like society’s kings.

I’m just plain tired . . .

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my pain will disappear

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Linda LowmanI'm Sorry

I'm so sorry.I didn't mean to wake up.I never saw a thing.Please don't hurt her Daddy.I never meant to wake up.I'm sorry.

Please stop screaming; don't cry Mommy.Please, Daddy stop, please.Whatever I've done I won't do it again.I'm sorry.Daddy please let go of Mommy.She's gasping for air.

The back of her neck is bleeding

Jennifer help her please.I'm sorry.Let go of me I want to see.The whole building sees and I'm still in the darkNo don't hurt him Daddy.Let him go. What did he do?Mommy, are you okay!Stop Daddy!Please stop!I'm sorry!I'm sorry.

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Terrence Graham(Oltsom DoGod)

Letter of Apology

Dear Sisters, Dear Brother,Dear Father, Dear Mother,I apologize for lies and the tears in your eyes.I'm sorry that I didn't make it home again.I left you alone again.

Forgive me, I've been selfish for so long,expecting you all to be strong.I took advantage of good parents,ran rampant when I should have sat and listened.I was young, chasing after what I wasn't missing,sinning when I should have been swimming

in your grace,bringing smiles to your face.All I did was hate:my mistake...This is my apology letter.If I could turn time backwards,

things would be better.

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SM

I wake up pinching myself . . .

hoping that this is a dream,looking at the bars on the windows . . .the steel cages and screens.Damn all this. . .The judge hit me with a lethal twist.Can I not make a mistake?

Must I get sentenced . . ? locked up . . ?Looking out of the window . . .seeing nothing . . . barbed wire.It hurts my heart and sets my soul on fire.All of my teenage years were spent in here.I lost the spark in my eye and cried my last tear.That's what I always did fear . . .not having control of my life.No decent man wants a jail bird for a wife.All I ask is for someone to realize . . .I don't belong in here . . .my soul will soon wither and die. . .

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Elana CohenEnough Tears

There is so much anger inside of meI want to cry,but to be strong, I swallow my tears.

There isn't anyone looking over my shoulder.

I want to become invisible.My pain will disappear.If I go, I won't feel the pain.Everybody is driving me insane.

I just want to be left alone

but still to be loved.People don't understand me.Their jealousy becomes anger

that stands against me.

Like I said though, I am strong.Strong enough not to take my own lifebecause of someone's envy against me.

As life rolls, so do my tears . . .

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Jo Ann GajadharInside

I am afraidof the unsaid.I am scaredof not being prepared.I wonder constantlyabout what would happen to all the anxiety

when all of what's insidewill finally be revealed.What would their reaction bewhen they learn of what residesinside of me?

Will they think of me as one of them,as the unspeakable,as the big disappointment?Or will they be happyand accept meas who I am?

They can't see me for me.They won't let me just be,but who they want me to be.They would never accept just me.

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Anthony Sabater

At night I lie on my bed wondering

if people are thinking of meor have I been forgotten?

I am just a number in this hell-holeand a number I will be

if I'm forgotten.

Just the thought of me on someone's mind gives mechills.

Chiemela Onukwue

Fear

Fear sits here on my shoulder.I hear silencechill down my spinecold like a winter day in the Arctic.

Frightened like a mouse in a snake's mouth,the wind holding its breath.Why did it come to me,swarming around me like a pack of man-eating bugs?I lie here on the cold floor,a zebra in the eye of a lion.

I stand up,I won't let it take over me.I stay strong.I kill the fear.

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RSGod, Listen to My Cry!

God, listen to my cry!Hear my prayer!From the ends of the earth, I will cry to you for helpfor my heart is overwhelmed.Lead me to the towering rock of safetyfor you are my safe refuge and fortress

where my enemies can't reach me.My enemies come out at nightsnarling like vicious dogs as they prowl the streets.

Listen to my prayer!Do not ignore my cry for help!

Please listen and answer me,for I am overwhelmed by troubles.My enemies shout at me.Making loud and wicked threat,they bring trouble on me,hunting me down in their anger.My heart is in anguish.I wish I had wings like a dove -Then I would fly away and rest!

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Jean ErvenWhy Do We Fear?

Why do we fear?Isn't fear a feeling likelove, all in the mind?Why do we fear?Is our mind strongenough to tell us who

to step to, who not to just 'cause they are bigger than us,or is it'cause they intimidate us?So is that the reasonwe fear one another?

Why do we fear?

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Yasmeen GheeCancer

There was some hairon top of your headbut now it's gone.Where did it go? Nobody knows.But, now it's gone.Everybody stops and stares and asks,

"Why the hell did you cut your hair?"That's what they think happened,but it all fell out.due to the cancer that's spreading about.

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Shakyee BrownLet Me Tell You Who I Hate

I hate black people who hate white people.I hate white people who hate black people.I hate racism and racist people.I hate police, judges, district attorneys, mayors,governors, presidents, Republicans and Democrats.I hate Bloods, Crips, Latin Kings, Netas,Godbodies, Muslims, Black Panthers and KKKs.I hate mothers, fathers, sisters, brothers,aunts, uncles, nieces, nephews, cousinsand grandparents.I hate schools, jails, prisons, group homes,DFYs, Daycare centers and hospitals.I hate wars, riots, fights.

I hate the world, the galaxy, the universe,the planets and the sun, moon and stars.I hate me, myself and I.I love only one thing:I love nothing.I hate this poem.I hate this pencil I used to write this poem.

I hate you if you read this poem.I hate you if you like this poem.I hate you if you hate this poem.I hate you if you like me.I hate you if you hate me.I hate you if you do the roll call on the school floor.

I hate writing all this. I hate stuff.I hate sleeping, dreaming and thinking.I hate Phyllis Brown and Mylong.I hate eating and drinking.I just hate everything.

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Yadyra ClementeDearest Friend

Why hate? Why choose hate?Indifferences, dislikes, betrayal, anythingbut hate. Hate, a word that expressesanger which expresses pain whichexpresses disbelief... Why hate?A word that causes you much sorrow.

Tranquility; need that, want that, ask for that.Dearest friend, why choose hate?Hate is the reason why you're ashamedto know your father. Hate is the reason

you're alone at night. Hate is the reasonhappiness lacks in your heart.

Hate is the reason you're full of anger.Hate my friend, is the reason Mami is gone...Hate. Why choose hate?Hate is the key to death, loneliness forever.Must you hate me?Do you love me so much you hate me?Stop hating quickly before it's too late.Stop your hatred before it kills me too...

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Chiemela OnukwueEmbarrassment

Embarrassment is as red as a hot pepper;flushed all over,running like the wind,it flies past the crowd of peopleto its home behind a wall,hiding, hiding.

Tears of madness start swimming down its cheeks.Its heart is a drum poundingin and out of the body.It smells the humiliation of the kids laughing,trying to hold back tears.It feels its hand shaking

with fear, for what might happen the next day.

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Michael McDonaldAdvice

Lying in bedtrying to sleepbut can't you see I'm in jaila place for killers and tough guysand where you don't have any friends.

I thought I diduntil I did a bidand got stabbedwhile I was sleeping.

So if you come here

(I hope you don't)I will give you some words of advice:You don't have any friends in here.So don't make this your life!

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Michelle JamesSplit Personality

You make me sick.I despise your way of thinking.I can't stand your childish acts.Why can't you be more like me?

I'm sorry.

I'm just too afraid.

Afraid of what?

Afraid of you.

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things had changed

between us

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Stacy MerriweatherIf It Happens

Can you look into my eyes and see my wildest fantasy?Can you hold my palms and read my inner mystery?If you could then you'd see you and me.Can you finish the rest of my story?It begins with lights and our clothes are on.The radio is on and it's playing my song.

What shall we do after everyone's gone?Can you decide in a minute, or will you wait until dawn?Kisses and caresses are all we’ll share.Sorry, tonight there'll be no pulling my hair.Then at my body you'll begin to stare.Realizing that something's missing from there.

I’m not ready to risk what our love is about,and not in one night anyway.Physical attraction started us off.Time got us to where we are now.Sex can put it all to an end.Thinking of that, doesn't it make you want to wait?We can't see yet what the future holds,maybe it's my missing piece, and maybe it's not.Perhaps it should stay hollow and empty,or perhaps I should just let it go, let it fly.Wherever it is that we should end upwe'll have to walk slowly together to get there,before love slips away and there's nothing left,

except memories.

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Tasanyia Kurleeia Princess SebroMy First Time

My first time (with you, my love)I do remember.That day, the sun had glistened and shined,and we were together.I looked at you, and

you promised me pleasure.Every one else who did itenjoyed the feeling.(But I figured it was just talk)I admit, I wanted to know ifthere was truth in what I was hearing.I witnessed some people do it B4,like my mom and dad, my sister and her friend,

and they looked so happy.Yet, I was afraid that you would unintentionally hurt me.Because you are so wide,I was afraid that your large body would damage me.Yet, I was amazed by your length,and the distance that you were capable of carrying me.Others suggested that I try it.You relaxed them, andmade them feel good inside, they'd say.But after hearing about all the people that you had

around the world,I hesitated to partake.I wasn't out to catch crabs

and I didn't want any of your other possible parasitesto attack my body,but I decided to have you anyway.On that unforgettable day

your warm body attracted and teased.44

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I became wet with the coolness of your touch,as you moved from my toes and eventually reached my

knees.I fidgeted and squinted my face asI came closer to your body.Then you engulfed the whole of me,as I entered you, and you entered me.I yelled, pleaded and screamedfor mercy,when I felt your whiplash.

You made me cry out loud.Your grip and your force held onto my inexperienced, virgin body,and carried me further into an unfamiliar ecstasy.Then you massaged me, waist up,and I was no longer afraid.My first time, I will never forget.It was not in New York.It was in Tobago as a matter of fact.I never forgot you after that (day).You made me sleep for hoursafter our encounter.I have found no other to replace you.

No matter how much I tried.I still remember your amazing waves.At first I was afraid,now I long for one more ride.I yearn for a second time, just me and the sea.I will never forget, I can't deny,the day you had me.My first time with the sea,at a Tobago beach.

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Randy SamuelsWe Were Little

We were littleand you weremy friend's little sister.When I would come over to your houseI would pick trouble with youand we would start to wrestle on the floor.

But that daywhen I was over thereand we were wrestling,I was suddenly aware that

you were no longer

my friend's little sister.

You were a womanand I stopped wrestling with you.You asked me what was wrongand I just stood thereand looked at youand we both knewthings had changed between us.

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Linda LowmanMy Favorite Holiday

My favorite holidayon cold winter’s night, starting from dayto the next night.Trees set up all covered in snow and light,pink, red, and blue,a gift for me and you.

A boy outside while the moon is full and foggyand blue.Down the steep steps out the squeaking, creaking doorthe wind howling as though there were a storm.His warm lips pressed against mine,his tongue swirling in my mouth.

O, yes, Christmas my favorite holiday of the yearthat I love with all my heart.

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Derrick A. Thomas Jr.Do Thugs Fall in Love?

Do thugs fall in love?People think they don’tbut yesterday afterdinner me and twoother inmates weretalking about girls we love.

One of the inmates was Blood.The other inmate was neutral.We talked about how ourgirls trust us.It was funny becauseI never thought thugs

would fall in love,but they do.And now I know I wasn’tthe only thug that fell in love.I also realize that I really didlove Lucy more for beingthe person she is.

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CL

The power of a gun can kill

and the power of a wind can chill.The power of a mind can learn.The power of anger can burn.The power of a tear can tear you apart,but the power of a smile —especially yours — can warm a frozen heart.

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Evangelina BaezDon't

Maybe you like her.Maybe you don't.You'll probably see her.You probably won't.Don't play any games.I'm sorry for what I did.

I'm with you before,during and after the bid.I kept my promise.Now you keep yours.If you like her more,then there goes the door.

I'm not in the mood.I don't have time.What you do now,will catch up down the line.I'm trying my bestto stick by your side.Are you enjoying your journeyor not staying for the ride?I don't want you to go.I don't want you to leave.But, I won't stick aroundto be hurt and deceived.I'm on probation.

You're on parole.Getting out of the ghettois my number one goal.

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Yesterday I cried.It's my parents again.I was bent out of shape,and not a helping hand to lend.I don't want to argue.I don't want to fight.Just tell me the truth,and give me my last kiss good night.You know I love, honor and care for you.

Don't say it's the end.Just say the good byes,because we can't be friends.I can't take only friendshipafter three long years.When I get just the thought,

my eyes dwell in tears.I love you too muchto just let you go.I thought this was neededfor you to knowthat I love you dearly

and you're always at heart.I don't want this to end.I don't want us to part.

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Shakyee BrownTrust

I don’t know if I can trust youbecause I can’t trust myself…Do you trust me?Do you think you can trust me?Can you trust me with your money?Can you trust me with your life?

Can you trust me with your love?If you can find a way to trust me with all of this,then I can trust you the same.

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Sancheska RosaLife

Try to understand how life is.It’s something that you just cannot.

How you love then hate,how good things go bad,how you get happy then get sad,

how there's pain and then relief,how there's light and then night,

and how one day it’s cold,and then the next it’s hot.

How like with people, the ones you hate are alwaysaround and the ones youlove are not.

How you are a kid one day,and then you're old.

And then at the end, you know that one dayall this will come to . . .and when that day comes,

you wish to do

it all over again.

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Debra KepkeHarsh Reality

Go home, go out, come home or stay out.Choices, choices.Confusion.Wondering.

Many different paths

to choose from.Don't want to make a choicebut in the harsh reality,

you must.

It's hard.

All those different ways to go.You wish it was easybut in the harsh realityit isn't.

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David KaenHair

When people are afraid or choose not to see,sometimes they will put their hands over their eyes,or clench their eyelids tight,but I have the upper hand.

My hair wraps around my eyes and protects me from

the world,and makes me feel secure inside in a world of my own.shadowing my eyes and face I can rest in seclusion,or close my eyes and dream about vacations.

My hair was long enough to chew,

so it could have doubled as a food,however for me it’s there to make me unaware,of the things I do not wish to see.

My hair can block out the sun,when others need sunglasses,or shield me from the rain and snow,while others need umbrellas.

A face lies hidden under the hair,a face with character and things to say,but it’s not ready to come out yet,maybe later, or in a year.

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Latoya CharlesMy Time

I take my time to write poems.I take my mind and let it flow.Sometimes, I mumble.Sometimes I fumble.So I close my eyes and give mymind a time to rise. As my blood

begins to flow in time,I take my time to write poems.

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Terri BrownBreakthrough

I have hope in myself.Hope is something that doesn't lookfor us, but we look for it.At times, we try to cling on to that lastdrop of hope, but it goes through our fingers.And we decide to try more then ever

to get that drop of hope back, but it isn't easy.It takes hard work, sweat, and energyto get it back, but it pays off.

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Debra KepkeThe Coming of Spring

But the air is still cold,I'm looking for a sign,I wonder to this day if spring will ever come.

I look out my window and it is still white,and that is fine,

but the air is still cold.

I wish that I could fly a kite,or find a tree to climb,I wonder to this day if spring will ever come.

I wish for the colors that mightcome out if spring were mine,but the air is still cold.

I want the lightto come and give a sign,I wonder to this day if spring will ever come.

It's such a lovely sight,spring is. I wish it would come or give me a sign,but the air is still cold.I wonder to this day if spring will ever come.

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Jeanette CarrasquilloThe Issues I Still Need to Face in Life

I am happy to say I have an IEP diploma,but it's not complete with out my GEDso that is my goal.

I feel my life is not complete with out a GEDI want my career to start now.

I am a young woman who has a lot of dreams.I want them to come true one day.

There is so much I can do with my life.I would like to start my career early . . . run my own

business . . . be my own boss.

Thinking about taking up physical therapy.Also, something on the side, like bartending or

photography to make extra money.

I want to work with young adults some day to tellthem, "you're not alone," because a lot of kids are

just lost out in the world with no guidance.

The Board of Education does not know how badlythe schools have destroyed our childrenthroughout the years with the mistakes theyhave made and do not care to fix.

I am the type of person who is in a rush to start mylife. I feel like I do not want to waste time.

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I want to make the best of my time and not waste it.

I worry about my sisters and brother if they're goingto be safe when they go to school or if I am nothome.

I worry about my mom and stepdad: they're my life,my world, along with my sisters and brother. I

want to protect them as much as possible.

So many issues about money—I wish I had enough togive my family so they would not need to strugglein life. $$$$$$

My family's health concerns me.

I still think about what a bad past I had and how Imoved on and got the help I needed to take awaymy pain and suffering by seeking counseling.

I still need to face love. I had a bad breakup of athree-year relationship. It's not easy. He waslazy and did not want to work things out.

It's just hard to love again. But, I am young andthere is someone new in my life. I am just

scared of love.

Teens go through many issues in life.They're not alone.

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who are you?

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Jo Ann GajadharI Am

I am as fresh as a new rose that's about to blossom.I wonder what would happen if the sunwouldn't come out in the morning.I hear what I want to hear.I see the beauty of the person inside of you.I want to reach out and touch the stars.

I am a fool in a fool's world.

I pretend that people actually care about me.I feel that no matter how loud I scream no one will hear.I touch you but I feel nothing.I worry that the world may never see who I really am.

I cry out for help but no one responds.I am who I want to be.

I understand and accept reality.I say what people want me to say.I dream that someday I'll fall in love and someonewill actually love me back.I try my best to fit in but I don't.I hope that everyone realizes who they are insideand not what people say they are.I am who I am.

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Tara Pober-ThompsonI Am, New York

I am a compilation of congenial microbacteria, living,breeding in my gut.

I am cement with glittering bits of glass.I am the orange over black sky before the break of dawn.I am yellow skin under fluorescent lights.I am closed to the world.

I am alone in an elevator, cranked toward the tar of ahot rooftop.

I am a lover of the unattainable; an open stretch of sky.I am a kisser of many cheeks, yearning for the wet

flesh that lies beneath.I am full of one thousand fake surprises, repeated

conversations.I am a liver and a pancreas.I am blood, white and red.I am a cold hand against my stomach in the night.I am flashed across six million retinas a day.I am a fading picture on a video camera.I am leaving you for the dark recesses of my brain,

visible only through my eyes.I am a girl that never got to say good-bye.

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Adrian AgredoReplication

I am personal postulate disposable sea breeze,I am fetal positioned swollen with anti-freeze,I am stolen dreams in rhetorical skylines,I am afraid of your touch, circumventing my eyeline.I am strung upon a cross, metaphysical headband,I am chasing a rainbow, being led by a blind man,I am faded wrists refusing further dilation,

I am terrified breath being refused respiration,I am a child on Christmas never given a peek,I am tired of lying, timeless, I am weak.Like you.As you-touch my lips and tell me not to cry,self inflicted sunset, without a reason why,drowning on your words, purging every pore,

given borrowed wounds, can I have some more?Candy from strangers,as I learn from bitter hands,blistered implications, on how to be a man,YOU SAY I AM,well, I am.I AM NOT YOU.

I am compromising clouds, failing earthly seed,I am sandman stricken flight, from the times mysleep will bleed,

I am hiding voices, continued fossilizing dreams,I am envy transparent through vein woven seams,I am tired of escapism on hypothetical wings,never believed in god, until he taught me how to

sing.I am refusive teardrop, specific time of day,I am seclusive affirmation; I am anything you say,I am fallen seashore, reminiscent of the rain,I am forgetful sunrise; I AM NOT THE SAME.

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Linda LowmanWho Am I?

Who am I?Just another black girl living in a white man's world?Who am I?A 14-year-old with dark brown curly locks of hair that

shine with the color of gold when the sun hits it just the right way.

Who am I?Just another figment of someone's imagination?

Another person to blame for all your mistakes?Someone to take your anger out on?

Who am I?A glass wall there to block you from your fears?

Someone you use for your amusement? A person you come to for advice when all hope is lost?Who am I?Someone you hang out with when all your friends have

gone home?Who am I?Your mother, your father, your brother, your cousin,

your teacher doing their best to make sure youunderstand and know where you're going?

Who am I!

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Jesenia HernandezPlease Look a Little Deeper

Please look a little deeper.Please don't judge me by my face,by my religion, or by my race.Don't laugh at what I wear,or how I look or do my hair.

Please look a little deeper.Way down deep inside,although you may not see it,I have a lot to hide.Behind my clothes the secret lies.Behind my smile I softly cry.

Please look a little deeperand maybe you will seethe lovely little girlthat lives inside of me.

Please listen carefully to her.She'll show you that she's insecure.Just get to know herand maybe you will seethat if you just look deep enough

you'll find the real me.

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Bryan PierceThe Real Me

Often times when I tell people I'm shythey take it as a joke and laugh.When actually I am,I'm insecure about many things,what I do or say to people,what I wear, what I look like, how I act.

I'm often thought as a mean or nonchalant person,when actually I do care for others.I'm not saying that I'm a saint,but I have my nice ways.Being me is very hard.You have to act a certain way,

and always come up with something clever to say.Sometimes when I'm not joking, and trying to be serious,friends, students, and my family take it as a joke.I get nervous often and begin to talk fast,a bad habit I didn't always have.There was a time in my life,when I thought I would be alone forever,an ugly, black child with no friends,but that changed when I started to tell jokes.So everyday now I must put on this false face,a face that I think is permanent and has taken my place.It makes me feel good when someone likes the real me,a twin, a man, southern, Portuguese, and six foot three,

a person who always has doubts about himself,such as others do. So I told you the real me,let's talk about you.

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Jennifer JordanWho Am I?

I am a black strong womanand do you know who I am?Do you like the way I lookor is it just πüßß¥ you see?I am a person who needsto give herself courage in herself.

I am a 17 year old turning 18 in two monthsand don't like the responsibility of lifebut have to deal with it.Who am I?What am I?And, what should I do

to make myself a better personand not put myself inthe wrong state of mind?Who am I?Am I a girlwhich some guys turn from?And, why am I or any girlgonna give themselves up?Who am I?Who are you?What are your dreamsand do you know who I amor is it just a stupid question to ask yourself?

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Jean-Baptiste WenaelWho I Am

I'm black, virtuous, strong, and intelligent —that's who I am.

I'm fated, unbiased, not succumbed — that'swho I am.

I'm diligent, undoleful, militant — that'swho I am.

Nobody could tell me who I am,'cause I know who I am.

I'm enlightened, bona fide, and versatile — that'swho I am.

I'm appreciable, humane, tolerable — that'swho I am.

I'm respectful, non violent, and superior — that'swho I am.Can't nobody tell me who I am, 'cause

I know who I am.

Ippolita di PaolaSiamese Eyes

I glare through eyes that have seen so much . . .with tender intentions and bitter words . . .

I jump through the sky with a child's dream to fly.As you look my way and I fade away,all you see is mySiamese eyes.

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Shakyee BrownI Am a Man

I am a man because I make my own decisions.I am a man because I am not a boy.I am a man because I raised my family.I am a man because I got my education.I am a man because I follow my rules.I am a man because I follow no one.

I am a man because I make promises that I keep.I am a man because I got a job legally.I am a man because I am simply a man.I am a man, and no one can say that I'm not.

Kedar NorthingtonMost Wanted

I'm the most wantedfrom state to state.

I'm the most wantedwhen it comes to hate.I'm the most wantedwhen there are high stakes.I'm the most wantedwhen times are blank.

I'm the most wantedwhen people are fake.I am the most wanted!!!

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Jean ErvenWho Am I?

My name is E. Jean, or is it?I was named that fora reason, right?Who am I?Who are we all? From myknowing, we all have the

same thing. So what makes usdifferent? Is it color,height, or size?Who am I?I am a person who was puthere to receive knowledge

and, as they say, give backwhat I know to the young.Who am I?I am the person who letspeople know that they'rehere for a reason and letsthem know that there's a purposefor all men and women-especially myself.

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Adelina MendezI Am

I am as loud and amusing asa beautiful hummingbird singing.

I hear my kitty meowing whenmy mother and I sleep;

I see myself as a wonderful,successful young woman.


I pretend I'm an angel in the skyperforming my duties for God.

I feel whenever I die, I will becomea dolphin who lives with

spiritual thoughts.I touch someone and give thema magical spell to help thembecome successful in life.


I worry that my feelings about myfather will probably never go away.

I cry in the night whenI haven't done something right.I understand my friends' problems

and I try to solve them.I am as loud and amusing as

a beautiful hummingbird singing.I say that having an eternal life

would be interesting and fantastic.

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I dream about becoming a dancerand a secretary for the restof my life.

I try to do my best on myweak subjects.


JW

He took me off the streets,and put me through trials and tribulations.He is my best friend and my worst enemy.I love him, but he's a problem that I can't solve.When I see him in the mirror, it's like the movie,Face Off, but . . . my face ison. . .

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Omar Wimberly

I am the cause.

I am the cause for the lightning and rain.I am the cause for the famine and pain.I am the cause.I am the cause for violence and plague.I am the plague.I am the plague that causes your mind to be

infected with the sickness of thought.I am the thought that causes the famine thatcauses the plague that causes the violence thatcauses the pain.

I am death.I am the rain.I am the rain that brings life.I am the life that exists in every corner

of the earth and mind.I am the giver and receiver of life.I am the thought that gives the energy

that composes lightning.I am the light, I am the sun.

I am so sane I'm insane.I am so simple I'm confusing.I am the suggestion in your mind.I am.I am.I am the solar.

I am the controller.I am the soul.I am the control.I am the solar controller.I am the solo.

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I am.I can build or destroy.I am one.I am the completion of a continuous circle.I am Omega.

Latoya. A. IsaacBio-Poem

I, Latoya Ayana Isaac,short, smart, and thick,sibling of Kevon and Cindy,

lover of music, parties, and fun,who feels kind, loving, sharing, and friendly,who fears spiders, snakes, and roaches,who would like to seeSisqo, Next, and Jagged Edge,am a resident of Trinidad and Tobago.Welcome to my poem.

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Kevin WilliamsWho Are You?

Who are you?I hear a voice.

Who are you?Are you my mother?No.

Who are you?Are you my father?No.

Who are you?Are you my peeps?No.

Who are you?Are you my preacher?No.

Who are you?Are you my God?

No where near him.

Who are you ?Are you my baby Shaeyla?No.

Who are you?

Are you my wife Latoya?No.

Who are you?I am your conscience.

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Stacy MerriweatherFamily

Sitting in a room full of people,between two happy beings,and yet I'm by myself.I feel like I don't belong,a distant stranger and abnormal.What could make me feel better?

They include me in their conversation, yet I'm not a part of their group.Their words fall upon my earslike the silent cries of the homeless.They have no meaning to me,

except they scream family!

If only I had one of thoseto share these things with.We laugh and joke around,but they can't hear the song that my heart cries.I pull myself out of the scenario and just watch.

This togetherness is routine,and they have fun to repeat the ritual.Their small and casual arguments don'tamount to the hurt and angerthat I'm accustomed to seeing.

Even the cousin's girlfriend belongs to them,being my predecessor into their only acceptancea short time before me. She sits and talks

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about her life up there, and I sit and listen,and they really care. How I wish I wouldbe going to that strange land soon.

She breaks down her labor pains’ storieslike the process of hydrolysis, at least that'swhat she was doing to me.As it drips into my soul and I take in every bit,I feel the tears welling up.

Dry and empty are my eyes as I wishI belonged here, yet all I could do is say, Wow.The cousin, he plays with the sister and the little girls.Am I too old to be a little girl yet?

Ah, never mind. He makes them laughand cry and makes me look back over my life.I never had a cousin who cared enough to play with me.I was always alone. That's why I'm like a rabbitbeing backed into a corner.Even the most peaceful animals

will attack when provoked.

Maybe if I had this type of cousin,I wouldn't be so defensive.

I stare at their baby, born last month.

He's so new into this world and yet he'sa part of what I'm not.His eyes were so warm and brain was soabsorbent (empty) of all things.Yet he looks upon me as an outsider.

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It's not fair, I was here before he was, or was I?Even he knows that I shouldn't be here.

The grandmother, how nice grandmothers are.She's been the most welcoming to me.She speaks to break the ice of my silencefrom my face (soul) every time.I want, all the time, to embrace heras if she were my own grandma,because she's just that special to me,

but will she look at me funny?I think she reads how I feel.

Thank God for grandmothers.

I only hope to be invited to more family gatheringslike that.

It gives me the opportunity to steal a couple of momentsof solace from the reality of my family.Do I even know what family is?Not judging by this comparison.

I will forever look back upon this family

and use small aspects to build my own.I'm glad that I have the chance to witnesssuch events because he's my boyfriend.Hopefully, something has rubbed off, on the both of us.This way someone else can look in on our family(together or separately) and feel as I do.

Not enviously, but happy that Godhas seen fit to keep a black family strongand together and hopeful to keep up that tradition.

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Eustashia RaymondStill Waters

As if in a dream, I place my thoughts uponthe still of these waters,casting my cares andfears into the depths.I reach into the farthest corners of my soul,searching for the very thing to soothe my mind.

I sit and watch the water rippling,my senses seem to become sharper,I close my eyes. I feel a sudden calmtake over my spirit.Serenity is what I feel when Icome to these waters.

My spirit feels light and free.I remember the pain and sorrow of once being me.

I lose my self,in these waters —I find myself and my being.in the still waters of blue and green.

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Jean ErvenTime

It is 8:30, or is it?Is that time right? 'Cause thesun sets a certain way, or theway a shade hits the floor.Time . . .if that is time, then what are

days, weeks, months, or years?Are these time too?If they are, what are theycalled when they are now?Time . . .is it called time 'cause

we age or 'cause the suncomes up and night comes?Time . . .if that's time, then whyis it when I look upI see no numbers or a clock,but all I see are clouds andstars? All this sounds likeit is something called a clock.Is life itselftime?What is it?

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my sense is not common

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Terri BrownOne Day, One Time

Many people say that life is a road,a road which is long and rough, onethat is not straight but curved.I'm on that road. I have been on thatroad. I'm still on that road.Along the way, I've stopped to see

my thoughts occasionally.I've wondered how or when the road would end.Sometimes I would sit by the side and watchas the birds flew together and disappeared.I would always ask,"Why can't the road be smooth?"

But, of course, the road becamemore challenging with each step I made.I guess the question was not how the road was,but how I was going to take it on.My answer was, instead of seeing the roadas being difficult, I saw it as a road of choices.The road was my way intoa new route going who knows where.

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Sharif RosaLate Night

Look up at the sky.The clouds are marshmallows.Look down the narrow street.Late night.

It's a snake with its tongue out

waiting for some helpless prey.Anyone now,everyone is a victim.Late night.

Street waiting to consume you,

walking down the deadly grounds.The slithery back of the snakehas its windows so it canspot you from more than one direction.Late night.

With its evil eyes staring at youfrom both sides of the streeteveryone is vulnerable.And sometimes it's not theprey that is scared.It's the snake that serves as a street.Late night.

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Sancheska RosaShining

The night sky is so big. All you see are these stars shiningat you. But, where arethe ones you don't see?

The ones who hide during the

day behind the clouds, but whennight time comes they are tooafraid to come out.

They are there, you see,but are too afraid to be seen.

So the other stars take their places;the ones you see at night,the ones whose lights are bright.

But one day you'll see that, the starswho are afraid to be seen,they will have their chance.Just give it some timeand you'll see that if theycan be bright so can you and I.

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Sharimar SantanaWatch Us Moon

The moon is a big telescope.God uses it to watch us sleep.It has a great radiancethat dazes up the night,so don't be scaredof the long dark night.

If you are scared my friendplease go to sleep,because the moon will be watching yoursweet, sweet dreams.

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Terri BrownUnforeseen

I don't know if they are around meor if they whisper in the sweet corner of every room.I wish I could talk to them about my fears,and sometimes I believe in no such thingas "floating people."The ones who guard you and see no harm comes

towards you;I guess I was just imagining these things.Because sometimes we truly want to believethey are there, when they're not.But later on I saw that I had one of these "floating

people."

One who was there for me and was a joy in humanform.I figure that I needed to look harderfor the floating people that were always there.

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Kelly McCloskeyI Dream

It's grown colder,my breath has come alive,my soul has become dense,

thoughts,confused,

jumbled in my brain,crawl into the rest of my body,

becoming frightened,unable to move.

Voices that run around unwanted causemuch chaos inside me.

Why do I think of such horrors?What is a good person?

Not knowing or feeling bad happenings,

scared of what's to become,willingly going backward,to what is already known,it can be played back and

rerecorded to fit my need to be . . .

Love is a feeling I do bestow.No, I have not experienced the movie love,

the ultimate high,always perfect, beautiful,that's what my transparent reality looks like.I can see and feel it.

No one has shared it with me.

It's getting late.My eyes have grown weak as the hours pass.

I'll dream of him,my children,

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the white picket fence,to be awakened by the screams of

it was only a dream . . . only a dream.

To dream means to want and I havewanted all my life . . . to dream.

My sense is not common but . . .the puzzle fits into my head perfectly.

Everyone is laughing.I want to speak,

held back by myself,later punished by that same person.

The streets are empty at night.I dance.

No one around to judge my movements.I spin and spin,

laughing in the voiceless streets,music in my ears,music silent to everything,

not me.I dance and dance until I am home.

My keys are heavy . . . It's late.Opening the door . . . swaying into my room,my bed, like quicksand,

as I fall deeper and deeper into my thoughts,thoughts of pain,thoughts of embrace,thoughts . . .

I WantI Want

I Dream

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Jeffrey WilliamsDream Sequence 1

(The Illusion)In a deep sleep I dream.I am lean clean tall and mean,walking in darkness cold and nude.I bump into a man who is very rude.(The man says)

"Watch it you little jerk."Then he looks at me and gives a little smirk.I walk for hours trying to findwhere I am in my twisted mind,no roads and no light but I see a sign.(The sign says)

"Keep walking until you make a find."(Continuing the walk)OK, alright, so I walk.I hear no sound, no one talk.I finally see.(What I see)There are people all around me.They look and stare, then they turn.I look at the ground.There's a sign that says, "Burn!"I see now, where I am.I walked into the abyss.My misled life,

I now really miss.

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Jeffrey WilliamsOblivion's Misapprehension

In a deep, deep sleep I dream,everything is tall lean and mean.I am walking through the streets,hurting the skin on my bare feet,wandering around looking for someone,maybe trying to have a little fun.

(I discover)There's a flash of light in the sky,a flash of light that just flew by.Walking in sheer oblivion I try to understand,where I am heading while I stare at my hand.I notice I am bleeding.

I am bleeding for no apparent reason.I stop to clean myself off,then a person touches me with a white cloth.He has no face or feet,but he says to me he's delighted to meet.(He tells me where I am)"You are in a state of your own oblivion.""You are in a world of unconsciousness."(My response)"You're crazy, old man," is what I say."You are nuts. Now get out of my way."(I leave, unenlightened)I move on and turn around.

The old man is following me,carrying a sign.The sign says: "Found."I finally stop and ask, "Why?"

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He says: "There is a reason I am here.There is a reason not to beware."I am in a safe place,but time I cannot waste.I am not here to jump and play.I am here to do a job and stay."What was the job?" I ask the man.He never answers just looks at my hand."In your hand you will seewhat you were meant to be.

In your hand you will knowexactly how far you will grow."I look and stare.I see nothing.He says: "Why are you shocked little boy?You're just a pawn in oblivion's little toy."

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Latoya CharlesThe Dreamer

I lie on my bed. My mind is relaxed.My blood is flowing. My heart is beatingwhile my eyes stare up to the ceiling.I see myself in a place that is fullof snow. As I look down I find myselfstanding in gold. I wonder - how can this

be? Is it just me or is it just a dream? Istoop down to the ground. The breezeis blowing. My hair is in my face.I try to get some of what I see.I pick it up, but all I can feel issomething cold and wet. It is

dripping all over my dress. I tryto dry myself, but all I can see isa garden full of leaves.

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Jennifer YannuciDreams

Dreams are sometimes where you want to be:things, people, and places to see.Sometimes you even do strange thingslike talk to a dog that sings.In my dreams I like to dance,maybe one day I will have that chance.

I like to dream good things not badbecause all my experiences are very sad.In the night when I fall asleepsometimes my dreams are very deep,like falling from the sky.Sometimes I feel like I'm going to die.

Dreams can come true.Who only knew,that one day out of the blueit would be you?

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Adrian AgredoDrowning

A body dissolved with indecision,I feel as if I have been underwater for daysbathing underneath cold fog,looking up through cracks of ice,as a lifetime of night washes from my eyes.I feel like I've slipped through dawn's rust,only to find frayed finger nails hung like trophies,proud to tell the woe of a nightmare,proud tostand stale on my window sill,peeled-layers-like-paint.Floating for days,I feel like the memories in the back of my brain,

sifting through timeas ageless air fills my chest,to the point of suffocation . . .Sorry for the intrusion,they'll say.

There are times when I'll forget to breathe,

contorted towards the heatexposing my spine,like a back of frozen valleys,I was warned the ice was thin.The circling wires that animate my wrists begin to slowas snowflakes fill my eyes,

dancing,waiting,to take that breath . . .as if that time will ever come.Feeling the weight of a closing tidal wave,

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feeling the storm as it starts to turn my veinsagainst one another

as I try to swallow the current,sip by sip,

and ride the pain-all the way out . . .Wrong decision,she'll say,suggesting her path leads to smiles,butI remember how sharp those can be.

I feel as if I've gone too deepthis time,too deep through the cracks,too deep though my mind,too deep-into my dreams . . .without air.

I've got to come back upsometime,

have to-regain composure on the firing line,again.Me and the night,making love like naked treesin the forest ablaze,exchanging fears,

yet I always feel empty,and she always wants moreI feel,the softer the hand

the quicker the blood,searching for the womb left stale on my window sill,under water for days . . .forgetting I can't swim.

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Joseph CummingsSkyscraper

I am in a dark room.A door opens out of nowhere.I walk toward the door.I see the sky and clouds,bird, planes, jets, everything . . .I step out of the room

on top of a skyscraper,see tons of cars passingby . . .I see the subways.People are making outin a telephone booth.

There is no way to get downbut to jump.If I jump, I'll break my bonesand probably die.Say, the hell with it!I'm falling as fast as anything.Next thing I know Iwake up in a coldsweat and say,"Sweet!"

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Debra KepkeWake Up

Wake up,my soft cuddlystuffed bunnycradled in my arms.Comforting, protectedfeelings are felt.

Wake up,cozy, comfybed on a coldwinter’s morning.The frost on the trees

seen through the windowmakes megrateful for my warm bed.

Looking back on it all,many years later,I wish I could nestle down,in my soft, comfy bed,with no problems and asoft cuddly stuffed bunny in my arms.

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Jo Ann GajadharMy Mickey Mouse

His ears are so big and black.His nose is so round and playful.His stomach is so soft and lovable.His feet are so big and yellow.

How can you not love him?

He talks to me once and again.He says little phrases like,"Hi, thanks for being my pal!"And he cheers me up.

I just press his stomach

and he starts to laugh, "he he!"And I press once more andhe says, "that tickles," and laughs again.It's really quite funny if you can hear him.

Now don't get me wrong,I know he's not real andI know he is just a cartoon character,but he brightens up my daywhen I'm not having the best oneand when I really don't feel like talking.

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Tara Pober-ThompsonLove Between a Scent and a Cat

As I huff into my little stone housethrough the very foundations I creakover wooded floorsof moss and fernI toss off my shoes:They rest,

one toe over the other.Pharaoh stretches his hipstowards the mirrorand shifts,rubs his wet nose,pink with a mole of suede,

against the top of my shoe.

A strong perfumecatching what every perfumery wants,the very essence of a womanthat woman beingme.A woman does not smell of liliesor valleys or ocean waves.She does not smell of diamondsalthough sometimes of iron.She smells of saltand lemon juice.

She smells of fresh live mahi-mahi.

In my shoe is all of thisintensified

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by the July heat.

The only maleI have ever knownto appreciate my scentis a kitty-catwho is neutered,I lament.

A Bit of Bitter or Better Attention

Perhaps if instead of a slap or a yellfrom behind my bookI was to offer a scratchbehind the ear

Pharaoh would not be compelledto knock over the vase at my feet.

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Terri BrownJust Shy

I am shy, I admit.It takes guts to admit something like that.Being shy is like being held up in a cage.The bars are stopping you from entering the world.Somehow, you break free and enter life.It's like walking freely.

But, with freedom comesbeing scared sometimes of putting yourself out there.Thinking that you will get hurt in the process.But, that's life.

Andrew SpencerSmile

I smile when I'm happy.I smile when times are bad.

I smile at enemies;and, I smile at friends and family.I smile to feel good at all times.Everyone sleeps, and doesn't peep at what I'm

doing.I smile to trick friends and foes;

so they won't know what's under my smile.All they do know iz,I just smile.

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Tara Pober-ThompsonThe Stone

The stone is soft.It melts slowlylike beeswaxin my fist.

If I wait I can sculpt it into a columbine

or a concubine.

The crystals,two jagged Amethysts,kiss gently beneath my lamp,a pink art deco planet.

They kiss just their pointed tipsremembering their ancestral land.The cave with a bountiful supply of dripping mineralswhere polish was only a distant dream.

Below,where the door meets lift,the marble socializesflowing, limp wristed.

I singloud so that all the tenants may hear

a song in an unknown tongue; throat, brain.The stone tinkling up the stairs.

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Kelly McCloskeyNot BreakAway

Your heart, like a stained glass windowso beautiful, its shadowso delicate, its frameeyes that look upon you are in awebut a breeze from the cold wind of hislove and you shatter to pieces.

Curtis "Chewy" Ferguson

My heart which was full of joy has been broken

and dropped in a slot like a train token,hit with pain like a stick and broken.The pain hurts and now my heart is cold and frozenlike winter's ice on the window pane.And for that I can love but then live no longer to be

seen.

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Randy SamuelsMy Heart Is So Cool

My heart is so coolit refuses to defrost.I don't know what to do.I can't go aroundlike nothing's wrong.People see it in me

when I speak.I speak with hungerand say thingsI would not sayif my heart was warm.

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Omar Wimberly

I get on the phone to talk to the world.

Trapped inside my mind, I try to call reality.I'm dialing the number frantically,trying to get an answer.But all I get is a busy signal.I hang up and try again, only to realize I lost the number!I press redial: busy. I try again: busy.

Then I remember that the phone in my mindcan't redial more than three times!!I start to panic.Will I be able to remember the numberafter the last redial?"F--- it," I say to myself. "Relax,

you can call informa

Streams 15

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