7
MPitS   Point Arena High School
2009/2010

 

Double Encoded

01001100 01101111 01101100 00100000 01110101 00100000 01100100 01101111 01110101 01100111 01101000 01101110 01110100 00100000 01100111 01110100 00100000 01101001 01110100 00100000 01100100 01101111 01101111 00100000 01110101 00001101 00001010
01001001 01101101 00100000 01101010 01110101 01110011 00100000 01110100 01101100 01101011 01101110
01010011 01110100 01101100 01101100 00100000 01100100 01110101 01101110 00100000 01100111 01100101 01110100 00100000 01101001 01110100 00100000 01100101 01101000 00111111
01010101 00100000 01101110 01101111 00100000 01110100 01100001 01101000 01110100 01111010 00100000 01101000 01100001 01100110 00100000 01100100 01100001 00100000 01100110 01101111 01101111 01101110
01001001 01111010 00100000 01011001 00100000 01101100 01110011 00100000 01110111 01110101 01100100 00100000 01001001 00100000 01100100 01110101 00100000 01110100 01101001 01110011 00101110

Lol u doughnt gt it doo u
Im jus tlkn
Stll dun get it eh?
U no tahtz haf da foon
Iz Y ls wud du tis.

-Laughing Out Loud- you do not get it do you
I’m just talking
Still don’t get it eh?
You know that’s half the fun
It’s why I would do this…

Cory
Grade 11, Point Arena High School
Blake More, Poet Teacher

 

A New Lingo

“0101100110001010011100001010”

Lol
gtg
brb
What do
these all
mean texting me
with all this gibberish
I understand what
Your trying to say
But……….
I like words
Better...

Eric
Grade 11, Point Arena High School
Blake More, Poet Teacher

 

Rain

The water rushed down
Like an angry fist
On a dark road
An orange light in the horizon
Is a pulsing heartbeat
A skyline appears
Like a rising owl
Our car rumbles on
To the source of the commotion
And the sterile streets
Are still dirty

John
Grade 12, Point Arena High School
Blake More, Poet Teacher

 

Time

this is why
a train whistles by
at 3:09 a.m.
why an airplane soars
high in the sky
every hour
why people hurry
along the streets
checking their phones
rushing
to get to the board meeting
we never think
about the leaves
spiraling quietly
to rest
on a still pond
or the young butterfly
breaking from it’s cocoon
time is a constant warp
tick
tick
tick

Marlee
Grade 11, Point Arena High School
Blake More, Poet Teacher

 

Soccer

Running through the short bladed grass
Tired like a zebra after running away from his predator
The black and white moving swiftly through the air
The guardian jumps as if stopping a bullet from killing his family
The crowd roars
The goalie jumping up & down
He blocked the winning goal

Nestor
Grade 12, Point Arena High School
Blake More, Poet Teacher

 

Antiquity

Grandfather’s office
Smattered with ancient contraptions
A Remington “portable” typewriter
An RCA radio
with glass tubes inside
A phone with some wheel on the front
and cords everywhere

Grandfather, I can do so many things
on my iPhone!
Why would you keep
all those stupid machines?

He says they were new once.

Nick
Grade 11, Point Arena High School
Blake More, Poet Teacher

 

Morning Sunshine

Hues of violets
And reds that collide
With intensity
To create this
Daily wonder or
Gorgeous sight seeker
The world seems to be ending
Same times as
The observant eye awakes
To a miracle
Every second it can see
Ahead
And leave footsteps
Ahead

Shanice
Grade 12, Point Arena High School
Blake More, Poet Teacher

 

Salt

I like
salt, yes
Sodium chloride
Pass that
Na Cl
Who says
Two wrongs
Don’t make
One right
Like quartz
Tossed over
Your shoulder
Superstition beholder
Spy disguise
Like sugar
By eyes
Please savor
The flavor
It stays
Till later

Tacho
Grade 11, Point Arena High School
Blake More, Poet Teacher

 

A Trail to Somewhere

The motor-road into town
It shrinks away
Ridges, hills, gardens
Desolate areas go away
Everything becomes immediately grey
Occasionally a hill or ridge
But mostly everything grey
The smell of smoke
Running cars
You know you’re on the road to town
Then finally town is visible
You are there
Grey is around
Everything else invisible to the town

Troy
Grade 12, Point Arena High School
Blake More, Poet Teacher

 

There we are

Wandering through
Room after room
Lost in our train of thoughts
Going through Marie Antoinette
Music rooms
Restoration salons
The feeling that we are being watched
Ghostly people lingering around
From the party before
Waiting to see
What we will do next.

Tyler
Grade 11, Point Arena High School
Blake More, Poet Teacher


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