GUN
On December 12, 2012
by BENJI
Kids are running around today not knowing the definition of a firearm.
Posting pictures of the weapons, letting others know that their arm is ready to do harm.
In unfortunate neighborhoods, a familiar sound acts like a 10:30 alarm,
Letting all be known that the violence being done is ever growing like a farm.
Maybe it’s the role models they watch and listen to.
If good modeling was straight, they’d be as straight as a cashew.
Gucci Mane, Soulja Boy, Lil Wayne to name a few.
We’d hope that with their mouths something good would pass through…
Instead we hear,
“Aye fake n—-, I told you beware of the finga that pulls the trigga.”
BANG BANG. “Stinga”
And the process repeats.
Born. Grow up. Learn the evils that weren’t meant to be learned,
And do the things that aren’t meant to be done.
A weapon incorporating a metal tube from which bullets, shells, and other projectiles are propelled by explosive force, learn the definition.
And before you use it, learn something before you act with intuition.
Tagged with: benji
REMORSE
On December 12, 2012
by ERIC
Silence can be the loudest action
Concealing the depression
With aggression
Against the thoughts of passion
Emotions should tangle with apologies
Of being so bland against the beings that care
Hovering over the sorrow of what was done even though the apologies soar in thin air
Morphing into despair
Shrouding it with anger
So the world doesn’t know of the sadness that remains constantly there
Why apologize for the lies of saying it’s okay overloaded from irritation?
And the endless questionable glares
In a pool of self loathe gasping for air
What caused the suffocation?
Who or what for?
Was it done by yourself?
Apologizing for bottling up the pain that constantly contorts
In reality opening up the little tea pot short and stout to let steam out from the pores
The world depicts one’s self being apologetic but inside the thick skull
Exposure of x-ray that has little remorse
Tagged with: eric
VERBAL BULLETS
On December 12, 2012
by ERIC
No sky light horizons from the trenches
Spacious depths equal the minds of the senseless
Mindless infliction
Of a vocabulary
That doesn’t deserve the forceful misuse abusive apprehension
Picking up the words once read
And turning them against us
Slang and slander
Attack the defenseless
By using the media to depict vulgar pictures
A world our past didn’t envision
Using ain’t, good when it should be well, and making up
Words for common terms and we remember it
Teaching our generations bad ways to spell is our predicament
Hence forth negating the fact some words are case sensitive when read in sentences
And butchered when said and the environment is listening
A shot in the dark with verbal bullets leaves no witnesses
A world where no one is rubbed the wrong way
Because everyone has been the attacker or the victim
So the entire society is frictionless
Tagged with: eric
WRECKING BALL
On December 12, 2012
by ERIC
Rooms littered with black and white,
the ceiling discriminates the walls forcing them to see the ceiling as something to despise.
The abuse on the foundation starts to become trite,
Clichés jammed in the mailbox,
the overly used expressions are to be shipped away, to be gotten rid of like a parasite,
cancerous, but they still give insight of a haven that could be paradise
if the civilization in this situation wasn’t given hammers to cause genocide.
When fingers are pointed to the structure, the area without a wrecking ball is victimized.
In a equation of thoughts, people forget to simplify to make everyone equal.
When they identify a broken home,
broken for a reason, it’s all are wrong so we can’t vilify.
Racism of floor boards try to be washed, but the soap and water is filled with hype
that energizes the lies.
Of the fact that it does
the house fluctuates and caves in all of sudden
in a racial race worth running for the hope again even if it isn’t nudging.
A tragedy occurs and the house sees its molded from the water it was always trudging,
held in the basement the heart of the house the egg
pushed through the fallopian only to breed bigotry and nothingness.
Tagged with: eric
LETTER TO MY PAST SELF
On December 5, 2012
by DARLENE
Dear Darlene,
It’s okay. People will listen. I know it’s hard to trust, but it will get better.
Those names you write down. The people who make you suffer. It hurts to remember those horrid days still. You probably can’t tell from this, but my heart is beating and I can’t stop shaking.
Please, please, the list of people you wish were dead only intensifies the problem. It may seem like no one cares, sometimes it still seems that way, but there ARE ways, ways to survive.
The main thing you’ll remember is orchestra, those people who you confided in, but wish you actually told them the truth.
That you’re scared. No, I’m scared. I’m terrified to know why, why they called us names, what we did to make them despise us.
Trust me, it may not end, but it will get better.
You’ll be able to do things you never thought you could do.
You’ll want to live, to survive. So please, please, it’s okay to cry.
Love yourself,
Darlene
Tagged with: darlene
WHO WE ARE
Exclusive Ink is Shortridge High School's dynamic creative writing group. This is the place for our work to glow.WHAT WE DO
We write poems, short stories, essays, and whatever us inspires us. We share our work aloud and support each other.WHY WE WRITE
Because it's freedom. Because it's fun.
