2005/2006
| MPitS | |
Point Arena High School 2005/2006 |
Just Want to Feel Good
It is storming out side, but inside its dry
Little apartment kicking it with the guys
They are freaking out and want to go home
Wants to get out, but way to deep in the zone
Mad at the wall. Bob, and saying let it be
Looking at the moving hieroglyphics and bananas at your feet
Linoleum laying out laughing at them freaking out
Looking like little elves loving the trip out
I'm over it; step out into the thick rain
Life gets simple, but no where near sane
Spinning like a washing machine
I'm trying to get freedom
Listen to the raindrops
Till the sun is above the trees
Dizzy now but it all breaks down
Looking for the good feeling and now its found
George F
12 th Grade, PAHS
Blake More, Poet Teacher
Mexican Crossing The Border
When a Mexican crosses the border
They leave their families behind
Their family and their things
That they used to have
Mexicans leave their homesCross to the other side
Catching up to the dreams they face.
Sonia R
11 th Grade, PAHS
Blake More, Poet Teacher
On The Border
Tristeza,miedo,esperanza,amor
Un hombre cmzando la frotera al north
He suffers he struggles he leaves family behind
Por mis hijos he always says on his mind
But at the time
He is trying to pass
La migra is closing on his back
He runs y trata the escapar
But this father this friend doesn't get so far.
Nancy
11 th Grade, PAHS
Blake More, Poet Teacher
How to be a Mexican
how to be a Mexican:
You need to drink a lot of tequila
Party a lot
Work a lot
Try to get a green card,
sell drugs to make money
and try to survive.
you also need to look good for the chicas,
Every time you see a cop
Run or they will deport you
Back to TJ
you also need to run through the desert
to get to the US.
Aldo S
PAHS
Blake More, Poet Teacher
My Words
My words are the future they're considered a prophecy
So don't go on dissing, doubting, and mocking me
My words are too hard-core for the world
They cause Catastrophe
Standing tall like the Statue of Liberty
You haters and levas can never get rid of me
My words are holy, they should be in the bible
People call me a saint like one of Jesus's disciples
My words are a tsunami, they scar and bring death
You scared when you see,
What's wrong dogg, can't catch your breath
So confused, don't know if I fit in or if I'm an outcast
Because in this racist world the colored people finish last
Don't know what I'm doing
I'm sweating, out of breath my heart's pumping fast
My dad makes me feel like my life is a pile of trash
But its cool
I overcome this madness and show the whole universe
You're feeling like an ant with the lines in this first verse
Soon people will kneel to me
And I'll be the worlds main source
This stuff is so deep that my head hurts
Now analyze this and think of how powerful I can be
Cuz this is my life, my words, this is me
Jose M
PAHS
Blake More, Poet Teacher
Failure
Why must the rain drip and drop from every crevasse of Her cloud?
The dictionary in my brain amplifies the possibilities of the truth.
She mimics the dark glow of the moon and the dotted writing of the night sky.
A sleek, sharp icicle pokes at the eyes and 1 know I shouldn't believe.
The seconds and minutes that were known as time
are shattered into a thin powdery substance.
The non-existing purity in Her heavy gaze amplifies Her deepest secret.
Her weathered love murders my heart.
Spirits of an American girl, haunting my memories.
Wish that She were not actual or true or genuine... She was uncommon, like a leaf to a tree.
Picture an intellectual being, stranded in a sea of fools.
Her sin is a blunder to all, and demands regret.
The sunlight in Her eyes can no longer be recognized or defined, for it is disguised.
Dreams work to insult my most prestigious goal...
Dry thoughts are soon destroyed, along with my soul.
Bryan B
PAHS
Blake More, Poet Teacher
Pictures
Flying gold stripes droop from the railing
The colors change as the pie is drooled over by the family
Main computer screen saver bounces the unicorn from comer to comer
Dining room table awaits the savage consumption competition
Exploding with excitement, knives are raised as if in murder
Turkey settled on the table vanishes as the ravaging ensues
Mashed potatoes covered in gravy scooped onto plates
are watched by a butterfly on the window
A bottle of water freezes atop the desk
Reflected words of the month return from Halloween
People put an apostrophe in this picture
Painter's pencil fills in the mouths in rapid communication
Stories of a myth detailing the beauty held by petals of the fust tree
In the photo, bodies are as rock
The book is on the T page in the alphabet but no one remembers
John C
12 th Grade, PAHS
Blake More, Poet Teacher
Death
The map that was immortal
Lives a forever life due to the discovery of the world.
Pictures sing a deadly melody
A teacher has a definable room that asks only that you learn in it.
The dead wood that makes a desk
Gets pencil and pen graffiti along with sticky pieces oj bubble ^um
The chair is painted with golden apples.
The ball hit the clock and the time died
The Sony computer smiled that
It can never die as long as technology keeps making parts
Books that contain materials never tell lies
Boxes capture old and new papers stored away.
Girls phone each other in order to acquire information
Ripping up the floor in self-defense
The dead computer was out cold
The window wonders about pictures,
Butterflies touch sweet smelling flowers
Going to Kansas makes you
Dizzy and mortal.
Corey S
PAHS
Blake More, Poet Teacher
Do you know?
Is the sunset in Kansas as beautiful as California?
Falling from the sky is that magical rain of college,
A fluke, or is college life altering
Like rocks and roses, plain and beautiful?
Are you afraid of bears that are afraid of you?
The spirit of the gods surrounds as he makes that
touchdown,
After, you becoming low and blue as he does his piratical
act?
I wish for a 99 to nothing defeat!
How about you?
They are punishing trains I mimic.
Being despotic and a walking computer
Dancing birds in the splash down river.
Draining from the teacher to the point of sleepy.
It is cooking steak in the summer sunset sky,
The river the key to good bye.
Ben B
PAHS
Blake More, Poet Teacher
How to Write a Poem
Detect both good and bad buried in your shadow
Release insecurities that hold you back
Dance to the song that you've been looking for
Cry the love that you've been scared to show
Imagine the color of your bedroom floor
Tears of totem animals flashing before your eyes
Don't fear the wish held deep inside
Let the flower bloom during all four seasons
like an Indian paintbrush that brings dreams and images
Exhale only what you believe
And what you feel life to be
Natalie A
PAHS
Blake More, Poet Teacher
My Perfect Homecoming
Coming home from rudeness and racism
Coming home from anxiety ridden, caffeine addicted assertive robots
Coming home from honking horns and large billboards
Coming home from smog and smoke
Over the bridge, to see the lights, through the quiet town, down the empty strip
Coming home back to kindness and friends
To happy loving pacifists
To clear and beautiful skies
Coming home is the best feeling after a long hard cruel day.
Kim
PAHS
Blake More, Poet Teacher
Butterfly
Leaves of the summer drift toward the ground
Dry and gleaming with the season's history
They are falling with a computer like memory
Rose petals glow in the rays of the sun
While trains roll by through the field of fall, worn with passengers' memories
The gray fog of morning clouds the future
Branches reach through the fog to caress the dizzy sunshine
Yearning for warm rays and crystal blue skies
The sun peaks its golden eyes above the horizon
Starring out through the mist, the swirling fog making enemies forget their anger
The honey spirit melts the defense of early risers
As the sunflower rises it's light reflects in the glass of a bottle lying in the sand
The sleeves of sunrise fill the dawn with an alphabet of color
While I sit at my desk, my fingertips drumming on the plastic,
I imagine a perfect morning
Amanda P
PAHS
Blake More, Poet Teacher
Homecoming
Wow. What's the big dealEverybody's so excited
Not me. No not me
I hope it rains, hails, sleets
everyone will get their pretty sparkly
dresses wet, muddy, dirt brown
no one will have heels too high
to keep them out of puddles
the rain comes in barrels
giant cannon balls
splish, splash, swoosh
everyone run for cover
no one is safe
the strobe lights go out
music stops
everyone stares into the blackness of each other
teach them
they spend too much money on dresses, lights, food, drugs, beer
they get drunk for a temporary high
that could cause permanent damage
the rain is the tears
from my eyes
Brianna C
PAHS
Blake More, Poet Teacher
How Not To Fall In Love
Never Fall:
for the little puppy eyes
for his pick up lines
for his eye signals
Always Be Prepared:
make sure you have gum in your purse
make sure you have a good excuse if needed, like
"Oh, my mom said I have to be home early tonight"
Never go anywhere with him:
to his car if he asks you
to his house if he asks you
Never get caught in the moment:
never get caught in the moment
like when he tries to get romantic
make up an excuse
like you have to go to the bathroom
Don't ever fall for what he tells you:
like when he says
"damn baby, you look good"
don't fall for it
even though you know
you look good!
Ashley E
PAHS
Blake More, Poet Teacher
As I decide to fulfill my life's strategy
the devil insists on trying to battle me
I meet him in an empty field on the high plains
he throws temptations my way to inflict internal pain
life and death matters, this ain't no game
it's mind over matter, the power of my brain
he thinks I'll give in if my muscles start to strain
he believes I'll submit to the evil of societies fame
and benefit from notorieties gain
he says I don't have to properly train
and that he'll give me fame
and everyone will know my name
but I think he's insane
cause I know the truth - to gain is to give
to have pain is to live
so I call on my heavenly father's name
and slowly watch the thunder and rain
I went blow for blow, I went face to face
now the devil knows, I'm able to escape
not by a back door or an alternate route
I saw the middle high ground and I ran right through
Alex N
PAHS
Blake More, Poet Teacher
Mechanical World
I look out with my sea green eyes
the new Sony World
remembering the weathered wonder of existence
afraid to miss the rapidly closing window of opportunity
the legendary feeling of my broken family
feeling the grey cold reality close in around me
particles of questions too long to be answered
the poster smiles of life
preying for future friendships
at night the never ending lights and cameras
look like stars dropping from the sky
I look around the sparkling studio land for just one friend...
looking for something pure and untainted to touch, to feel
the distant memory of happiness oozing away from me
like a river of lotion
suddenly the sunlight through the thick smoke turns green
turning the world into a mechanical salad
Isabel M
PAHS
Blake More, Poet Teacher
Just Waiting
Just waiting for something to give me the strength of a million men
or someone or something to put a S on my chest
like the man of steel will, equipped to take on the world's army of warriors
with no hesitation or radiation to hold me back
cause only time will tell when the maniac in me will rise to the occasion of evacuation
extermination of one nation under a groove
when knew?
and now the historic events that played out its tune only leaves us with horrific
explicit details of eternal songs of blood, love, sweat, tears
mind heart and soul is what I want
poison me with this sweet remedy
a vanishing of a Native Nation?
this can promote an exclamation of blinded evaporation
because it's easy to point a finger and say
natives are dying because of this white man's world
when I hear garbage like this I want to get up and verbally abuse
slap the ignorant arrogance
say ain't nobody putting a gun to your head
forcing, making you take a shot or a drink
forcing, making you to take drugs
I say to you:
is this all your life is to be
if so, the dreams you dream will never become reality
do you really want people at your feet begging
feeling sorry for the bullshit you say
your situations destinations
grow up and realize it is you
you making yourself feel bad living on a reservation
sure you can quote "it's the white man's fault"
but really you are the one at fault because history is history
that was then, this is now
and now you have the chance to prove to a Native Nation
everybody is the same
we all bleed blood
we all breath air
we all need love
and we all need to eat and drink in peace
lets get together as a human race
look at each other
we are all the same
Michael M
12 th Grade, PAHS
Blake More, Poet Teacher
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