Forced to read literature about things unknown,
like racism and segregation, to open my blind eyes to things I needed to know,
learning about Malcolm and Martin fighting interracial crime
like apartheid or the dark side or similar slavery in its prime,
my view widened with knowledge of past problems explained in depth.
Black culture grew as each page got flipped,
and when people of different races said racist phrases I’d flip.
I didn’t wanna know just one side because I’m racially mixed,
so when I looked in the mirror I didn’t see a hypocrite.
I’d read the wrongdoings of both sides in the ethical war,
like the Black Panthers or KKK hunting for sport.
I was oblivious to the treacherous ways of the past.
But now I know the past and I live in the past’s future.
No more judging—white doesn’t mean preppy, black doesn’t mean stupid.
After I read that book, I know
ignorance judges by the color of the blanket around the bones,
and since I know I have black stripes and white stripes,
you don’t have to be the same color as me to be my family or friend.
Abraham Lincoln gave speeches of Freedom, more complicated than a circumference. C=πr2 around the world. The Longitude and Prime Meridian. The latitude and the Equator. Hotter than China and dryer than concrete. Unlike a boat circuit of aquatic relaxation and reflection.
Free time and Laziness to the Shimmering fountain in water. The sunset upon congress, Ben Franklin’s the star of it. The Bill of Rights and Constitution. A precedent used for Marbury vs. Madison. Wishing to swim in, the geographic circuit.
It’s like a civil war and a fight for freedom. The puppy love for the star-spangled banner. My sweet land of liberty. Our Independence from Britain. Thomas Jefferson wrote the DOI, The Declaration of Independence.
Our chance to the right of Justice, Law, and Liberty. It’s Independence Day America! have fun and be Free!
When I remember you, I don’t think of IV
and physical therapy.
I chase the times you’d make me quesadillas
not caring about your crippled hands paining
The picture of Spongebob that hung on your fridge is now plastered to mine.
Yellowed parchment, crumpled up like brittle
When I run back to those days,
I lose myself in a green apartment complex
with a snow-dusted gazebo, two over-sized
dumpsters, and a cramped elevator.
Now when I reminisce, I itch and sweat,
like I’m in an asbestos-lined laundry
You taught me to never idolize time.
And time is the one thing I
couldn’t idolize if I wanted to.
You have to have something to idolize it.
Rather, I’ll sit comfortably on your foam
bed and blue couch and let the salt sting
me, like festering bacon in a frying pan.
Dripping, the water clashes against the coal black pavement of the neighborhood streets. Soothing me like Beethoven’s Fur Elise. Eerie, but relaxing, like a hot tub at Syberis Spa, a romantic escape from life’s pressures.
Stress relieving like a back massage from a chiropractor. Soul soothing like a harp. Hypnotic like a violin. Extravagant like a cello. Prius like an organ. Rhythmic like a loved one’s heartbeat. Sweet like the bass drum in a dream.
Heart-capturing like a smooth storm of radiant violet petals. Comforting like the exemplary tempo of a flute. Swishing like the swaying of a composer’s stick. Livening like the “hark” of an angel’s voice.
Fluttering like the flowing chorus of gleaming butterflies. Falling from a piano’s highest key. Placating like a soft droplet of rain hitting a grassy plain. Plop, plank, shhhh.
Being near the monument downtown. The monument has soldiers and horses. It’s very pretty during Christmas time. The monument is tall and it’s right in the middle of downtown close to the mall. The lights on the monument are pretty and bright, and it stands out for some people to take pictures. The lights on the big tree explode with color. It’s as big as Ted Mosby’s nose. The feeling of Christmas time is peaceful and joyful. And being on the streets is sometimes that way and sometimes not. Because it’s loud and cold. Like being in music. When it snows it’s so amazing but it’s worse but you’re amazed by the snowflakes.
WHO WE AREExclusive Ink is Shortridge High School's dynamic creative writing group. This is the place for our work to glow.
WHAT WE DOWe write poems, short stories, essays, and whatever us inspires us. We share our work aloud and support each other.
WHY WE WRITEBecause it's freedom. Because it's fun.