MPitS - Fort Bragg High School

MPitS

Fort Bragg High School
2005/2006

one half

of me

resides in the pueblo Laguna

with the pallor of endless sands washed in

winds from every direction,

the dance of saccharine shadows.

the other half

is a flower child,

raised among hanging laundry,

silk blouses,

and the sienna world of tiny photographs.

In some strange quantum collision,

I became

this:

a cellophane being with art flowing forcefully from my sides

as though it will never end;

a tepid bath of blackness

in which I drown my thoughts;

a solitary rheumy blot

that stains the skin where it has opened.

I am familiar with tears,

sodium chloride and dihydrogen monoxide,

that cut familiar paths along the shell of my mask.

Jade B
10th grade, FBHS
Scott Meltsner, Poet Teacher

Rooted Lights

The lights turn her eyes into reflections of a drama movie

figures of the past written between the cracks of her teeth.

A fake smile which is plastered there.

A secret life.

Poisoned dye, rooted hair.

Burning, turning her hair into another shade

maybe lime green?

For she has to change.

To put a mask over the fakeness.

She doesn't want to be a zombie.

Razor teeth, eating the lies that the graveyard gives.

White roses lay on a tomb.

Turning acorpse into another body.

Acid rain burns holes in a book.

Jazz and wine run through her mouth and ears.

Dreaming of the "green creature"

full of snakes.

Orange tea with honey

to wash her fears down.

Calmness.

She would try anything for the fear to never come back.

Maybe the only way is for her to change.

Change her name.

A name which she would bite her tongue if she heard it.

The taste of paint and water in her mouth.

A picture of her life.

An emptiness inside a broken mirror.

The lights turn off.

Ariel M
10th grade, FBHS
Scott Meltsner, Poet Teacher

That night was the fight

    The metal burning kettle was all

    The blowing of steam I mean

In the past it was a blast

    The young mind felt she was kind

    Mother was the greatest

And before that I lived in the street

    Full of the heat

    Yet sometimes it rained giving us pain

But that night was the fight

     over the kettle

    Started small and gradually grew

Hun I'm threatening you with a gun

    She cried and lied

    She took and booked, <leaving>

Was I or maybe him, I couldn't win

     I did not feel that I could heal

    My poor dad who became very mad

We hoped she would be back

   Soon couped that she'd cracked

    This I saw was a new

My life changed, rearranged

    I didn't want to be become of something great, undone

    I feel I should be sorry

I must take care

    I had no past now, but how

    I became the gun and they were the trigger.

Tyler B
10th grade, FBHS
Scott Meltsner, Poet Teacher

Just A Cloud

Do you see that cloud?

You see it now don't you!

In front of you all that time

Now you take the time to look and study

I'm next to you

Do you see me?

Maybe you shouldn't see me

Maybe I should leave the room

Then, you could go do your business

Then, I could go do my business

Then, we could stare through a window

And glance at each other

I'm not here to be a pain in your behind

I'm just here to be here

Just to be seen

Do you see me now?

Chris Dahl
10th grade, FBHS
Scott Meltsner, Poet Teacher

                                                            Huh?

Who am I? A plastered face that sits and waits for someone to walk by and

say, "hi!", a fake smile pinned up automatically. Some people know that

what I show is mundane, insane, and not sincere. I walk the rope and

nearly choke. I dwell in me, trying to find exactly what it is I am. The

colors of my mind swirl and twirl as smoke that lingers, rising from a

fire playing with my nose. It has been said, I am so certain, so perfect,

so absolutely knowing, but I'm not. You thought you knew, I thought I

knew, but it goes on, and I still can't find myself. It gets to hazy, I

am so lazy! Do I try? I want to fly and stay away. I don't know me.

Karina B
10th grade, FBHS
Scott Meltsner, Poet Teacher

Untie Your Christmas Ribbons

There's a room.

It's dark.

In the middle, there's a bucket.

There is a bucket filled with liquid ignorance. Black ignorance.

And here you come,

You're a sponge.

You're the sponge.

You're the sponge that soaks up every ounce of that ignorance.

I'm not a hypocrite.

We are all ignorant.

But you

You've got it all.

You look at me, and you just don't see.

Your eyes are milky white.

You're blind.

But so are they.

They still see me.

Why can't you?

Why are you so wrapped up in your own Christmas ribbons?

Why can't you just unravel?

Why can't you just listen?

I pour myself into the bucket.

My lively green form mixes with the black.

You dip yourself into the bucket.

The bucket is vacant of the dark ignorance.

All that's left,

Is me.

Lauren D
10th grade, FBHS
Scott Meltsner, Poet Teacher

I used to be an angel

With white billowing wings

But one by one

My feathers fell out

As if plucked

By the tiny hands

Of guilt and sin.

I once was a hippie

With waist-length hair

And a ferret collection

But one by one

The ferrets ran away

As if guided

By the piper

Of restriction and society.

I would like to be the clouds

Right before it rains

Deep and dark

On the verge of destruction

Ready to release

My inner chaos.

I could be a bicycle

On the streets of Friedrichshaven

Ready to roll

Augustus Gloop to the Chocolate Factory

Or ET back home.

I will be an echo

That lingers in your ears

As you ride home

Two hours to Elk

Maybe you're remembering me.

Bryna T
10th grade, FBHS
Scott Meltsner, Poet Teacher

I Wish I Lived In Candyland

I wish I lived in Candyland

With my gumdrop buttons and my candy hearts on my sleeve

With gingerbread men who are so delectable

That you just want to eat'em up

And gingerbread women who all look the same

Except for the occasional eccentric frosting dress.

I wish I lived in Candyland

Where our weapons of mass destruction would just be

Candy-cane guns that shoot jujube bullets

That just stick to the soldiers' fruit-roll-up jackets.

I wish I lived in Candyland

Where jolly ranchers use twizzler lassos

To round up snicker cows and cotton candy sheep.

And marshmallow bunnies and chocolate frogs

Hop around chicken peeps as they cheep

While robins lay malt-ball eggs.

I wish I lived in Candyland

Where gummy bear sailors

Sail on the good ship lollipop

And save lives with lifesavers.

I wish I lived in Candyland

My best friends would be Mike and Ike.

We'd all be smarties and nerds

And we'd have a full attire of candy buttons and necklaces

And laugh like taffy while debating

How many licks it takes to get to the center of a tootsie pop

Or whether to have pushpops or ring pops.

And bust open root beer barrels and collect the bottle caps.

I wish I lived in Candyland

Where sweet-tarts gaze up at the starbursts and exchange hershey kisses

And jawbreakers yell while listening to pop rock.

And now and later doesn't refer to time.

I wish I lived in Candyland

Where the biggest concern is whether gobstoppers will last forever

Or whether the oompa loompas will fall off the pez brick wall

"Will the fireballs melt my icecubes?"

Wasting time watching runts play dodgeball with gumballs.

I wish I lived in Candyland where the cause for craziness

Is just too many pixy stix.

I wish I lived in Candyland

Where the biggest threat would be

Lollipop fiends, candy bars, and fake cigars

That could lead to a chocolate massacre.

Kylie G
10th grade, FBHS
Scott Meltsner, Poet Teacher

I love you

         but

the way your eyes look at me

the way they make me melt,

it makes me hate you.

I love the way you want to know

         everything

how I'm doing

how I feel

If I'm happy

But I hate you for it.

I hate that you're always there for me

but I love you for it.

I hate that I feel like I can never stop

loving you.

I know I'll have to.

Soon enough the end of the year will come.

We'll have to go our separate ways.

I love you

         but

the way your eyes look at me

the way they make me melt,

it makes me hate you.

Alicia H
10th grade, FBHS
Scott Meltsner, Poet Teacher

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