MPitS   Point Arena High School


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


My swift red kayak


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



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"


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


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




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




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



Go faster



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


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


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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