2007/2008
| MPitS | |
Point Arena High School 2007/2008 |
I Used To Be, But Now I Am
Staged by obsidian,
the treasure that embraces my dreams,
I am love.
But I used to be lonely.
German Nazi Gobstopper.
I believe in long, wet kisses
And the smell of bacon at breakfast.
Remember, I was December.
But now I am Capricorn.
Stentorian pop of a Snapple top
Strikes.
My swift red kayak
Sinks.
Saxophone dreams and obsidian clouds
I used to be dark,
But now I am night
Breanna Kespohl
Point Arena High School
Blake More, Poet Teacher
Self-Righteousness
Stood alone one day
Staring at my hand
My key to popularity
Dang it! I forgot the ignition was in my pack!
Well maybe I can inhale its "sweet" scent
What sweet scent?
What was everyone talking about?
What am I doing here?
Why does the smokey essence in my hand make us great?
Am I a clone?
Why am I doing this?
To be cool, you say
To be accepted
Fit in
More "Free"
NO!
Not like this
I refuse to be a clone
If I must live in darkness and be an outcast
Then outcast I shall be
Bound to my honor
Personal Freedom
Peace
And Reality
I'll live longer
Thanks to you
Crumple the five dollar joint
Throw it away
Better for my lungs anyway
Don't believe me?
Take science
Sincerely the nerd.
Rhianon Radtkey
11th Grade, Point Arena High School
Blake More, Poet Teacher
Power of Age
The time has come for a change,
But why should I care, I'm not even eighteen
I crave honesty, intelligence, and cultural understanding,
But no one listens to a child caring
I don't have a say in any big issues,
But imagination, healthcare, there all in my future.
I hate politics because they're serious and boring,
But when my voice can be heard it will be roaring.
Anthony Bollock
Point Arena High School
Blake More, Poet Teacher
Insanity
We've all been sitting here in this hole
And yet no-one seems to even notice
Breathe deep and smell the apathy
It surrounds you, it consumes us
We're divided and in disarray
Those above look down and laugh upon us
But in our dismantled and distorted minds
We're kings, and everyone else is inferior
We think we're masters of the world around us
We're enslaved by the very thought of it
Divided and in Disarray
We're knee-deep in our own waste
We're too stupid to see, we don't want to see
Why taste bitter reality when the illusion is so sweet?
Why should I speak out when no-one is listening?
We've done so well ensuring our self-destruction already
There's no stopping it
We're too busy screwing ourselves to see the big picture
We're too busy judging each other to see anything
So why should I stand out and speak for myself?
When you would all rather conform to apathy
When you label the opposite of conformity
Dismiss it as "insane" or "crazy"
That's me, I'm just your resident psychopath
John Paul Bove
12th Grade, Point Arena High School
Blake More, Poet Teacher
A Cage for my Genius
My body is fierce
I don't move I glide
A solid figure
Not chubby, pudgy, big boned, rotund, porcine...
My body is a piece among pieces
Prolific pieces pandering over
policy, power, politics, prestige, preeminence, pregnancy, progeny, puissance and place...
My body is graceful
a race of its own
Separated from the rest
the one that passed the test
not spacious, just enough
not unleashed, tethered for good reason
A cage for my genius
I train my body
improve the fact
My body keeps me able, stable
Capable of maintaining
if I went insane
My body would remain
My body is my pass
to everthing I need
The way to my will
my minds trusty steed
And though it may feel pain
and sometimes even bleed
My body feels no guilt
the mind
did the deed
Ian Sinnott
12th Grade, Point Arena High School
Blake More, Poet Teacher
Flavors
Different flavors of happiness in boxes I need too buy
Big cars to replace
Those thoughts
I can't believe
You don't hear
The laughs at night
I'm on this world too
But yet, I'm already gone
Watch me drift
Watch me fall
Watch me wonder why
You talk, I stare
Here and back again
Tattoos and more shoes
Cook
Clean
Go faster
More
Give
And back again
I'm not sure
Everyone seems to be talking
Like a Dr. Seuss book
Where is my connection?
Where is my feeling?
To the store
Different flavors of happiness
In boxes
I need to buy
Pilar Stinson
11th Grade, Point Arena High School
Blake More, Poet Teacher
Northern Coast
As he glides over the windy sun beaten asphalt
He looks for fresh road-kill
To his right
Wondrous pure green grass blows with the wind
To his left
The big rock on the beach shows dark
Thick lines of strata
Above him
Hundreds of feet up
Clouds of chrome form
Creating the breathless sunset filling the horizon
With pastel colors of spring
Behind him
Jagged rough cliffs stop
The crashing explosion of monstrous waves
Off in the distance
White caps emerge on the gigantic deep-blue
Beast of the west
All
As he glides
Over the windy sun beaten asphalt of the northern coast
Paige Cochran
Point Arena High School
Blake More, Poet Teacher
I Used To Be
I used to be a big Halloween pumpkin
Carved with different facial expressions every year
My looks still change
But now I'm a flavorful piece of
Pumpkin pie
Instead of an average pumpkin
I used to be a blue bird
Limited to where I was allowed to fly
But now I'm a giant airplane
Flying all over the world
From California
To Amsterdam
To Italy
I used to believe that frogs and monsters
Were hiding under my bed
Ready to attack me when the lights went out
Now I know that there are things worse than
Frogs and monsters
I used to believe that in order to fit in
I had to be someone other than myself
Now I know that being myself is more important.
I once believed that I had to look like a plastic Barbie in order to be accepted
Now I laugh at people like that.
If only someone had told me
That my ideas would change
That I would be more comfortable with myself
That I would be stronger
And okay with the world around me
Gina Stornetta
Point Arena High School
Blake More, Poet Teacher
After the Storm
The U.S.
Is a bleeding conspiracy of illusion
Sinking deeper into a vortex
Until we hit the core
With frivolous thought
Of the population floating in the back of every ones mind
With all the chaos
The solid melody of sanctity
Glides across
the clear sky
Jordan Washington
Point Arena High School
Blake More, Poet Teacher
Pad Locked
Life
Is a rhyme
Of the time
When we exist
In the fist
Of the world
As it whirled
From the war
And the gore
That we wage
In this age
Where we don't care
With violence it's a pair
We don't give to the poor
Not anymore
Since the greed
Took the lead
We neglected the seed
Left it to bleed
But because we ignored this need
We'll never be freed
Keelyn O'Brien
Point Arena High School
Blake More, Poet Teacher
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