POEM 4
I’m aware of events that happened.
My mom thinks I’m oblivious to it,
The constant yelling turning into a low static noise,
The haze of cigarette smoke settling on everything.
I want to live inside that TV, the free and endless possibilities,
Where I never have to show my resentment to those I love.
Or am forced to show a smile I've been pestered into wearing.
Everything annoys me.
Some days I just want to be miles from everyone,
On the islands of the Far Far Away,
The sun shining through palm fronds.
Will mom's smoke follow me there?
The houseplant in the corner soaks up the air like tar. It eventually turns black.
Why can’t anyone take care of a plant? Everything
Is misplaced, the couch facing away from the TV, lamp dead on the ground.
Get me the hell out of here.
standing off with the sun, the artificial version
that feeds us useless reruns, a distraction from
the suffocating plant in the corner, scratching at the walls for freedom...
TV shows, movies, gameshows, things that employ
fake people, fake plots, fake money.
Everyone knows if it’s all over in the far far away, where nothing is real.
And if she didn’t have the cigarette clinging to the corner
of her mouth, I know she’d be telling me to change the channel.
And I would be telling her there’s nothing to watch other than news anyway.
somewhere I’ve never been, people dying I haven't met.
I should care about this, I know I should. I would if it was happening
to me. But it isn’t and I’ve got other problems to worry about.
without blinking I can see right through them. It isn’t
like there’s much of a view. Only the grey that feels endless.
But I can’t be too deprecating. It’s somehow not bad enough to make the news.
I can hear the rain beginning to drown out
the sound of the television. It’s really coming down.
I can hear the violence in it all.
The TV begins to spout a warning:
the sound of the television. It’s really coming down.
I can hear the violence in it all.
The TV begins to spout a warning:
“They say it’s going to flood.” The mother
stares into the screen, almost in a trance.
You’d think I’d be used to all this by now,
as well as the fact that it rains every day.
stares into the screen, almost in a trance.
You’d think I’d be used to all this by now,
as well as the fact that it rains every day.
I don’t mind the cigarette smoke. I take
comfort in the haze, hiding inside of it.
The sirens outside are getting louder,
warning us to take cover.
comfort in the haze, hiding inside of it.
The sirens outside are getting louder,
warning us to take cover.
I’m not afraid of the rain.
it’s what comes with it that worries me.
The thunder begins to shake the house
and lightening cracks in what feels
it’s what comes with it that worries me.
The thunder begins to shake the house
and lightening cracks in what feels
like the far far away. I don't want
to get wet but I do want to go outside.
I welcome the mess, the weight of wet clothes.
And I'm long past cleaning up messes.
to get wet but I do want to go outside.
I welcome the mess, the weight of wet clothes.
And I'm long past cleaning up messes.
I lumbered on with no mind
Though no care was brought when a bridge
Infront appeared before me
The shiny yet dull bridge stood as though
Beckoning me to step forward
To cross what was meant to be crossed
With heavy steps I took to start the journey
Up hill on the bridge to where I do not know
With much being a fog to what else there was around me
I started to ponder why
Why have I started this journey
Where was I going and how
Did I truly want this, I tried to wake myself
The bridge started to feel uncanny
As though it sensed that I was questioning it
Trying to make itself look right
I breathed in heavy and felt heavier
As if being kept to the set destination
With the path having no turn around
Even if one wanted to
See the world beyond what hazy
Path had formed before them
I glance, craning to the right. The bachelorettes are on the screen,
and as their foil approaches a smile severs his face in two, the glint
of his teeth catching the stage lights…how pleasant, such fabrication...
the numbness fading with passing puffs, nicotine pickling my insides.
Funny how it happened, the whole thing a blur: the partying, the pregnancy,
the move, the house. The death. Funny? There's nothing funny about it.
a smile creased upon my lips, before thinking better of it and flittering away.
He’d been staring. I can only imagine him thinking how uncanny it is to not
be between us, and yet I know he still doesn’t know what he’s truly lost. What’s gone.
as the bachelor leans down and takes his counterpart’s hand. An action so familiar,
a twisted commercialized concoction, a studio’s jab at love. Hollowness
latches to me, as I stroke the blond mop of hair in front of me like a child’s blanket.
My yolk is heavy and my burden is light
Unadulterated peace and tranquility
Reality somewhere in the far far away
No longer do I let someone but me control
Home is now a word I understand
I snuggle into my mother's arm
The outside is a reflection of me
But sometimes I feel robotic
And question this peace inside of me
Knitted together by violence once again
Peaceful and quiet but violence none the less
Let go of me violence let me be free
Michael Jackson is doing on a Saturday night talk show
He's dancing showing off his exciting swagger leaving the audience dumbfounded
Yet all I hear is static coming from the soundbar
Mother and father just recently got in a heated argument
I sat and watched it all
They got violent and hurt each other, said things they don’t mean
I’m not dumb, I know there are bumps in marriages
I just can't grasp the concept of acting like nothing is wrong
No one knows what happens
My mother comes next to me and holds me while she smokes a cigarette
I don't move a muscle
I imagine what life would be in the far far away
Where The Smoke Goes (Lilly)
I find my mind to be far far away
Misplaced on the bridge between my father and I
The bridge made of cigarette smoke
That blows back and forth hitting me in the face
The violence I find in the midst of silence
Yet I do not say a single word
Sitting there solemnly waiting for him to speak
But all I find is the long drag of the cancerous stick
The comfort in silence, surrounded by white
The walls turning the slightest shade yellow
Waiting and waiting on something I’ll never find
A peace of mind in the awkwardness of his shadow
A father and a daughter
Sitting together but almost solely alone
Where has my mind gone?
Blown away with the fear of where the smoke goes
Misplaced on the bridge between my father and I
The bridge made of cigarette smoke
That blows back and forth hitting me in the face
Yet I do not say a single word
Sitting there solemnly waiting for him to speak
But all I find is the long drag of the cancerous stick
The walls turning the slightest shade yellow
Waiting and waiting on something I’ll never find
A peace of mind in the awkwardness of his shadow
Sitting together but almost solely alone
Where has my mind gone?
Blown away with the fear of where the smoke goes
*THE LOSS OF CHILDHOOD (Haley)
I wait for the storm to pass
Rigidity and obedience are crucial for my survival
I cannot defy his absolute authority
He cannot control his anger, so he must control me
His violence beckons on the outskirts of my periphery
The Svedka bottle sucks the empathy from his bones
His rage thickens with every watery drop of liquor
It is my fault, he says, and I must atone for his every sin
My mother’s eyes gaze seems focused on a distant memory
A far, far away land where peace prevails and her opinion matters
Where her mind can wander lackadaisically
As if the storm has magically waned
I seek to cross that bridge back to better times, but she has burned it
With cigarettes and television programs
The uncanny land of make believe that she has created
Soothes me ‘til I can move again
I wait for the storm to pass
Rigidity and obedience are crucial for my survival
I cannot defy his absolute authority
He cannot control his anger, so he must control me
His violence beckons on the outskirts of my periphery
The Svedka bottle sucks the empathy from his bones
His rage thickens with every watery drop of liquor
It is my fault, he says, and I must atone for his every sin
My mother’s eyes gaze seems focused on a distant memory
A far, far away land where peace prevails and her opinion matters
Where her mind can wander lackadaisically
As if the storm has magically waned
I seek to cross that bridge back to better times, but she has burned it
With cigarettes and television programs
The uncanny land of make believe that she has created
Soothes me ‘til I can move again
Her False Color (Olivia)
I acknowledge the playfulness coming from the TV,
the angled bodies allowing for emotional display.
Outside the room sits extended family and friends,
oblivious to the uncomfortable dynamic that awaits them.
The smoke from her cigarette clouds
my mind of any memories worth salvaging.
But the anger that lit her cigarette has
sent everything I have deep into the far far away.
Not a single soul could bridge the gap that a cold
shoulder has created, yet no one seems to notice.
Watchers would probably notice the static on TV
before noticing her false inviting color.
The one man who has seen through her facade
sits far away from me, lost in a photo that I long to hold.
In a home where I used to have comfort and safety,
I can now only wait for her arm to release me.
*The Hazy House (Ava)
the angled bodies allowing for emotional display.
Outside the room sits extended family and friends,
oblivious to the uncomfortable dynamic that awaits them.
The smoke from her cigarette clouds
my mind of any memories worth salvaging.
But the anger that lit her cigarette has
sent everything I have deep into the far far away.
Not a single soul could bridge the gap that a cold
shoulder has created, yet no one seems to notice.
Watchers would probably notice the static on TV
before noticing her false inviting color.
The one man who has seen through her facade
sits far away from me, lost in a photo that I long to hold.
In a home where I used to have comfort and safety,
I can now only wait for her arm to release me.
I feel that far far away feeling again,
my family all quiet...
The dog lies on dad's side of the bed all day.
Dad, why did you have to leave us?
Mom now smokes inside the house
and it leaves a haze throughout the living room.
I ask her why she does it. She never answers.
I don't know why we never got another side table either.
The TV remains on day and night,
sending static through the house.
Without you, there is no static,
Even the dog is quiet, he no longer needs to bark.
Sister needs help with her homework.
She asks mom for help but we both know only you can help.
Though this is no longer possible,
I miss you, Dad.
Unintentional but intentional (Marisol)
I am so close yet so far
The far far away is where I stay
The silence is very uncanny but I choose to stay put
Haze blurring my vision as my thoughts travel to sadness
The sadness I know my mother feels
Behaving the best I can, I still tend to fail my mother
Not knowing what to say, what to do anymore
As my eyes direct to the emptiness around me
Reminiscing on what my mother’s life was
Before me. Full of happiness she was, but not alone
Father, a violent but wealthy man, was the root of
This feeling. Furniture breaking, portraits hanging
On by a pin but Mother has a big smile on her face
That should be enough for me, but instead I feel a
Bridge forming in my thoughts. My temper I notice
Turning into my Father’s, I resort to sadness instead
Of putting my mother in harm’s way. Yet she’s full of
Pain, as am I
The girl under the bridge (Lexi)
I gaze at the ceiling in wonder
Why would this occur
Under the bridge through the haze
An uncanny violence has occurred
So many dangerous people in the world
Why would someone do this?
This poor young girl was full of life
Until someone stole it from her
Now resting in the ground
Mourning our beloved daughter
We miss her and nothing will be the same
In this sad world without her
Her bright mind and wishful thinking
Should I have been more uncompromising?
She would not be in the ground today
If I had not let her go yesterday
Duality of One (Charles)
I am from the far far away
From a time that is in the yolk of an uncanny future
The time from which people live from day to day
A day for which things are uncertain for many
The land is untamed by all
The land is unknown by many
The land is bridge for few
But the land is static for One
I am the One of many but One of few
For in the haze you can see none but me
In the desolate fog for which many are blinded
Blinded I am not
For One can find solace with I
But many see none but violence
The exalted threat to impose
But a reprieve none can repose
my family all quiet...
The dog lies on dad's side of the bed all day.
Dad, why did you have to leave us?
Mom now smokes inside the house
and it leaves a haze throughout the living room.
I ask her why she does it. She never answers.
I don't know why we never got another side table either.
The TV remains on day and night,
sending static through the house.
Without you, there is no static,
Even the dog is quiet, he no longer needs to bark.
Sister needs help with her homework.
She asks mom for help but we both know only you can help.
Though this is no longer possible,
I miss you, Dad.
The far far away is where I stay
The silence is very uncanny but I choose to stay put
Haze blurring my vision as my thoughts travel to sadness
Behaving the best I can, I still tend to fail my mother
Not knowing what to say, what to do anymore
As my eyes direct to the emptiness around me
Before me. Full of happiness she was, but not alone
Father, a violent but wealthy man, was the root of
This feeling. Furniture breaking, portraits hanging
That should be enough for me, but instead I feel a
Bridge forming in my thoughts. My temper I notice
Turning into my Father’s, I resort to sadness instead
Of putting my mother in harm’s way. Yet she’s full of
Pain, as am I
Why would this occur
Under the bridge through the haze
An uncanny violence has occurred
Why would someone do this?
This poor young girl was full of life
Until someone stole it from her
Mourning our beloved daughter
We miss her and nothing will be the same
In this sad world without her
Should I have been more uncompromising?
She would not be in the ground today
If I had not let her go yesterday
From a time that is in the yolk of an uncanny future
The time from which people live from day to day
A day for which things are uncertain for many
The land is unknown by many
The land is bridge for few
But the land is static for One
For in the haze you can see none but me
In the desolate fog for which many are blinded
Blinded I am not
But many see none but violence
The exalted threat to impose
But a reprieve none can repose
Fractures of my Memory (Spud)
I think I’m dying
I think this as I watch the fan blades spin,
The yellow walls closing in around me.
Why is it always so dark
In this room filled with windows?
What or who else looms above me?
Is it the same one who darkens these windows?
Do they think it's me?
The floor is hard and the carpet itches
My footsteps on and around me,
Tugging at my hair
I’ve been here before, right here
Watching the fan blades spin as
Darkened haze filters through the windows
That turn face away from the sun.
The static of the TV because nothing’s on
Nothing's been on for a long time
The far far away feels so much closer now
Closing around me and my fan blades
Spinning spinning above me
The Other Room (Ezra)
I blankly stare at the uncanny birdlike
Legs holding up the TV
On which a reality show is playing
Trashy and violent
Mother is off in her static haze
In her own personal world
Trying to avoid this existence
Still clasping my arm as we seep
Further into this painfully pastel blue couch
As I sit here peering out the window
far far away in the next house over
Two peculiar but familiar characters sat
on that exact same pastel couch
Like a mirror looking right back at me
Only this room wasn't filled with
That creeping bridge of smelly air mother
Seems to love. The air nought of problem nor toxin
Though our world seems virtually the same
It feels as though we live in separate galaxies
That young boy, the very moon revolving
And I a mere pebble traveling through space
Racing restless thoughts (Adilene)
I think this as I watch the fan blades spin,
The yellow walls closing in around me.
Why is it always so dark
What or who else looms above me?
Is it the same one who darkens these windows?
Do they think it's me?
My footsteps on and around me,
Tugging at my hair
I’ve been here before, right here
Darkened haze filters through the windows
That turn face away from the sun.
The static of the TV because nothing’s on
The far far away feels so much closer now
Closing around me and my fan blades
Spinning spinning above me
Legs holding up the TV
On which a reality show is playing
Trashy and violent
In her own personal world
Trying to avoid this existence
Still clasping my arm as we seep
Further into this painfully pastel blue couch
far far away in the next house over
Two peculiar but familiar characters sat
on that exact same pastel couch
Only this room wasn't filled with
That creeping bridge of smelly air mother
Seems to love. The air nought of problem nor toxin
It feels as though we live in separate galaxies
That young boy, the very moon revolving
And I a mere pebble traveling through space
I sit here thinking in the far far away.
The room is quiet, uncanny almost.
My mind is like a haze.
My mother next to me watching the TV unfazed.
It’s hot out in the middle of July,
mother won’t let me play.
I sit here thinking, wondering,
will I ever be able to play?
The tv seems silent all I make out are the pictures shown across.
Going on and on about music,
Music I don’t care to pay attention to.
Another thought comes to my restless mind.
Where is my father?
I wonder if he would let me play.
This all feels like a dream. Will I ever wake up?
Boredom lingers, thick in the air. I feel trapped in this room. Is this how other children feel?
The Haze and the Leech (Megan)
I lived in a haze for a day.
The haze grew into a month.
The haze grew into a year.
I still remember the haze.
It started on a nice summer day.
I was working in the yard when the haze took over.
At first it was a static that took my vision.
Then the haze settled heavy over my mind.
Some days it was so heavy it took me to the far far away.
Some days it was so light that I thought it was gone.
Everyday I struggled with the pain.
It attached to me like a leech.
The leech would finally break its hold and start to slip
but it was never permanent. Oh how I wish it would leave.
How I wish I could finally have a break from the pain.
The pain that made me think of the haze.
The room is quiet, uncanny almost.
My mind is like a haze.
My mother next to me watching the TV unfazed.
mother won’t let me play.
I sit here thinking, wondering,
will I ever be able to play?
Going on and on about music,
Music I don’t care to pay attention to.
Another thought comes to my restless mind.
I wonder if he would let me play.
This all feels like a dream. Will I ever wake up?
Boredom lingers, thick in the air. I feel trapped in this room. Is this how other children feel?
The haze grew into a month.
The haze grew into a year.
I still remember the haze.
I was working in the yard when the haze took over.
At first it was a static that took my vision.
Then the haze settled heavy over my mind.
Some days it was so light that I thought it was gone.
Everyday I struggled with the pain.
It attached to me like a leech.
but it was never permanent. Oh how I wish it would leave.
How I wish I could finally have a break from the pain.
The pain that made me think of the haze.
The haze that finally left but robbed me of so much.
The haze that left that parasitic leech to me,
bringing only a deep pain that settled into my bones.
The haze that has forever altered me.
The empty room (Malaciah)
I sit where we’re told to sit,
Knees forward, feet bare against the floor,
the couch swallowing us into its pattern
like camouflage.
The television breathes light at us,
People inside it moving easily-
Laughing, arguing, violent, and loud.
Then we were allowed to move...
My mother’s hands rest in her lap.
They do not reach for anything.
I learn early that silence
is another way of behaving.
The room keeps its distance
The plant leans but does not uncanny wild
The framed picture watches us
Watch something else.
I memorize how to stay still.
How to look interested.
How to exist without interrupting
the space between us.
Years later, I recognize this posture-
in classrooms, in friendships,
In the way I scroll through other lives,
studying how they speak, how they move.
I am still that child on the couch,
Facing a glowing screen,
Learning the world by observation,
Hoping one day to step into it
Instead of just watching.
Because I am here (Hudson)
The haze that left that parasitic leech to me,
bringing only a deep pain that settled into my bones.
The haze that has forever altered me.
Knees forward, feet bare against the floor,
the couch swallowing us into its pattern
like camouflage.
People inside it moving easily-
Laughing, arguing, violent, and loud.
Then we were allowed to move...
They do not reach for anything.
I learn early that silence
is another way of behaving.
The plant leans but does not uncanny wild
The framed picture watches us
Watch something else.
How to look interested.
How to exist without interrupting
the space between us.
in classrooms, in friendships,
In the way I scroll through other lives,
studying how they speak, how they move.
I am still that child on the couch,
Facing a glowing screen,
Learning the world by observation,
Hoping one day to step into it
Instead of just watching.
I sit in silence, neglecting the television static
What I want lays beyond
Staring as the nicotine-coated walls cross the bridge
And she’s here with me once again
Her cigarette, held loosely in her left hand,
Once more casts its haze throughout the room.
Her once oh so joyful face--
The only thing dull enough to cut through the smoke.
I know better than to look for her.
What good would it do anyway?
I settle for the warmth of her hand on my shoulder
Though it fills me with nothing but cold.
If I could ask her why she had to go
I am not sure if I would...
For some things aren’t meant to be understood.
Besides, what good could it do anyway.
So I sit in silence,
Enveloped in a world I wish were true,
Which is where I am now…
And not where she lives in the far far away.
DOWN THE PIT (Zoie)
I didn’t realize how far I had fallen until my
feet were stuck. Dark sticky goo covered them,
refusing to let me go. I pulled and pulled with no
luck. The height seemed endless. I wanted to
leave, truly I did. It was hard as I had found
comfort in the darkness. My descent wasn’t immediate,
I was first pulled, then fell the rest of the way down.
The haze lasted years, leaving me trapped.
It wasn’t until I was guided that I pulled my foot out.
Then the walls, the walls were slick, any small
mistake would send me back to the bottom.
I had to move slowly, one step at a time.
It could be frustrating. I wanted to get back
to my life, but the pit was relentless. Years went
by, and then I found a ledge. Which allowed me to rest.
I climbed, then rested, climbed then rested.
Things were moving slow, but progress was made.
I celebrated the small things, yet struggled with
others. I realize that I must face some things, this violence
against my soul, and that maybe one day I’ll reach the top.
What I want lays beyond
Staring as the nicotine-coated walls cross the bridge
And she’s here with me once again
Her cigarette, held loosely in her left hand,
Once more casts its haze throughout the room.
Her once oh so joyful face--
The only thing dull enough to cut through the smoke.
I know better than to look for her.
What good would it do anyway?
I settle for the warmth of her hand on my shoulder
Though it fills me with nothing but cold.
If I could ask her why she had to go
I am not sure if I would...
For some things aren’t meant to be understood.
Besides, what good could it do anyway.
So I sit in silence,
Enveloped in a world I wish were true,
Which is where I am now…
And not where she lives in the far far away.
feet were stuck. Dark sticky goo covered them,
refusing to let me go. I pulled and pulled with no
luck. The height seemed endless. I wanted to
comfort in the darkness. My descent wasn’t immediate,
I was first pulled, then fell the rest of the way down.
The haze lasted years, leaving me trapped.
Then the walls, the walls were slick, any small
mistake would send me back to the bottom.
I had to move slowly, one step at a time.
to my life, but the pit was relentless. Years went
by, and then I found a ledge. Which allowed me to rest.
I climbed, then rested, climbed then rested.
I celebrated the small things, yet struggled with
others. I realize that I must face some things, this violence
against my soul, and that maybe one day I’ll reach the top.
Stifling Wait -By Pancho Garza
As the TV buzzed with life a tall penguin stood
being loud and cheerful
A women dressed to go to the beach stood
being loud and cheerful
A women dressed to go to the beach stood
and greeted the non-existent audience
Though drowned out by an even louder buzz and bang outside...
With yellow and grey dust blowing away in the wind
With people covered in splotches of white
With yellow and grey dust blowing away in the wind
With people covered in splotches of white
waddling back and forth
Another boy out there smaller than them was helping out
I ask the tall lady next to me, “Um when can Chris come in and play?”
She responded in a distant and unconcerned tone,
I ask the tall lady next to me, “Um when can Chris come in and play?”
She responded in a distant and unconcerned tone,
“Probably when he is not needed anymore.”
Then she blew out another puff of smoke
that restricted my breathing
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