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Writing: Issue 9

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Morgan Parent

9/10/2018

2 Comments

 

​"I'm Morgan. I'm a strategic communication student aspiring to end up somewhere in the music industry on the marketing side of things. I like to think I'm pretty well balanced, but who couldn't use more art in their life? For some reason a lot of people think they know me (​doppelgangers, where ya at?) so...  if I already have a familiar face, I might as well earn a familiar name to go with it.

Treat yourself kindly and check in on your friends!"


​
Twitter: @morganRparent

Instagram: @morgan_parent


Get a Grip
Mistakes and missed tokes
Eat some cake, life’s a joke.
It’s really too short to be taken seriously.
But that doesn’t mean you can’t try to change future history.
The present is upon us,
and just as quickly,
is gone.
Keep up now.
The rest of them are moving on


Frost
​

“The road less traveled by”
What a cliché
Did you know it’s a lie?
They’re really the same
So go your own way
And if you feel so inclined
Go ahead and change your name
All that matters is the lesson you find

2 Comments

Zadie Jean

9/10/2018

0 Comments

 

"I’m a writer, musician, & aspiring poet from SoCal. I’m currently running a poetry zine called Junk, releasing monthly physical copy zines."

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Instagram: @zadievstheworld + @junkpoetryzine

Rocky Horror Picture Show 

Everyone get together,
Neon lights and camera flashes,
Dressed up in sweat and laugher,
Fuchsia lips and blue eyelashes.
We’re a few seats from the front
You keep shaking in your chair,
Behind a screen of Transylvanians,
I see your profile through his purple hair.

It gets pretty warm here in October,
And the air turns orange and crisp.
Looking back to that night,
The theater tasted warm like his lips.
Soon this season will end,
When midnight comes it’ll turn November,
These months will become another stage,
We’ll have to force each other to remember.


All These Friends 

Most of the time I don’t know what to say,
But I know that you don’t have to die,
Even when your mind is in the ashtray.
My friends all know that this is worth the view, 
But some of you don’t know the strain we go through,
A weird fucking feeling every second 
And no amount of crying can rescue you.

I went on a walk and ran into a guy,
Who was going to the park to sit in the rain, 
I looked at him and I couldn’t stop crying,
His mind was like a broken drain.
He was meeting at the corner with his friend, 
To bring back the letters that he sent, 
Sent them off to figure out a way,
A way to wish all of your pain away.

0 Comments

Zare Bonds

9/10/2018

0 Comments

 

​20 year old writer, photographer, and comedian. Born and raised in Chicago. Who is currently in the beginning stages of his first collection of short stories and poems. 

Instagram: @superduperzare

Front Porch

The front porch was home for us,
We watched and pointed as cars drove by,
Waved hello to the people who walked past the front porch,
Played games on the front porch,
Laughed on the front porch,
Fought on the front porch,
Watched our parents gossip on the front porch,
Daydreamed on the front porch,
Pretended on the front porch,
Made new friends on the front porch,
Watched our neighborhood change on the front porch,
Grew old on the front porch,
Grieved on the front porch,
Said our goodbyes on the front porch,
Walked out the gate of the front porch.



Rules for Being a Black Boy in America 

Part One
Never wear a hoodie while driving a car,
Never get gas alone,
Never enter a store with your hands in your pockets,
Never exit a store with your hands in your pockets,
Never travel alone,
Stay away from the south.
Part Two
Always look people in the eye’s, 
Always stand up for your rights,
Always stop when a cop pulls you over,
Always reply yes sir or ma’am,
Always remember no matter how smart you are, how wealthy you become, or how known you are... You will always be a black male in America.Rules 

0 Comments

Hailey Bartlett

9/10/2018

0 Comments

 

"I'm a writer from Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. My two main focuses are film and poetry. If I’m not writing, I’m at a concert or relaxing with a cup of coffee."

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​Instagram: @llovebuzz

Please Don’t Blame Me
​
I’m going to cry over spilled milk, And when I somehow forget how to tie my shoes, Please don’t blame me.
My brain is to blame For its inability to process the unimportance of milk, And the fact that my shoe laces tuck in.

0 Comments

Natalie Welles

9/10/2018

0 Comments

 

"I’m Natalie, a 17 year old freelance journalist and writer. As a way to cope with trauma, I’ve used writing for the past decade of my life to express myself, whether it be through a poem, an article piece or a short story. I see it as an art form and a way to relieve my built up anxiety. What I hope to accomplish through sharing my writing is to relate to others who have felt the same emotional scarring, regardless of the cause. I want people to know that no matter what, there is an outlet and an advantage one can gain that comes out of trauma."

Instagram: @internetsurfing

Oral B

I don’t know how to properly use a toothbrush,
I’m the only person in the world unable to conduct this procedure.
Yet I proceed to leisure
Spending my time like anyone else
despite the obstacle that should put me on the fence
yet I proceed to commence
despite this fact
My teeth are still in tact, so how does one react?
How does one respond to another
perfectly normal exterior, looks like every other
person willowing in their filth on this planet.
Does anyone here know how to brush their teeth, dammit?
My teeth will turn into granite
if no one teaches me how to brush my teeth
So please,
show me the light
and for once in my life
I would like to do something right.
0 Comments

Maggie Wilkinson

9/10/2018

0 Comments

 

"I’ve been writing seriously for about 3 years now, and every day am learning more about how to express myself through words. I have self-published two books of poetry, and the most recent one High Waisted is available on Amazon. I love burrito bowls, my friends, podcasts, and poetry."

Instagram: @imnotactuallymaggie. 


I COULD BECOME WHAT
YOU NEED FROM ME


I owe myself an apology 
     for all the times I forgot
my body. My hands used
     to be so much stronger than this. 
I could carry you, just
    give me time. I will learn
for you. I will unlock the toy chest
     of my heart and rediscover the pieces
of myself that can bring joy. 
     Key word: unlock. Have you seen
me without a door in front of 
     my mouth? I create barriers
between what I want to say and 
     the people I know will listen. Honestly,
I’m scared of my tongue. It is muscle
     with the power of a drill, I have 
never been able to stop dismantling 
     people. I will take you to pieces 
if you let me start, don’t you know 
     by now? You used to knock at my door
for hours, you’ve seen me through
     my windows, you must be aware of
each of my shortcomings (and there
     are many). I used to be so much stronger
than this. I could carry the weight of us,
     just give me time. I will unlearn
all my limitations, just as long as you give me 
     a second chance. 
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