outside the box

On March 2, 2016
a poem by [jada]

Tear! Why? It only
makes me sad.
I am wonderful.

Stress. Everyone does
that. Cry on,
cry I did! Today
actually! The world!
Cruel, mean, evil, nice,
sweet people. But at
the end of the day
I am me!!! But
outside the box!!

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widow

On February 29, 2016
a poem by [brandy]

I sit in my rocking chair,
look up and see
you’re not there.

With every tear that streams
from my eye,
I remember
all the good times.

Times we had together,
wishing we had forever.

I didn’t think you’d be gone
this soon.
I swear I see your face
in the moon.

I reminisce as I look
through the window.
And hate what I’ve become,

A widow.

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pete rob

On February 29, 2016
a story by [marquise]

Pete Rob wears his name on his shirt so everyone knows it. Wherever he goes, every stranger knows his name, so he feels like a celebrity.

Pete Rob is very tall with a neck like a giraffe, which helps him reach high places, but it is very tough to shop for clothes. Every necktie he finds at a store is always too short, but he wears them anyway since he does not have any other option.

People start to think that Pete Rob wears his ties as a fashion statement, and pretty soon other people start to copy his style and buy really short neckties. And before he knows it, Pete Rob actually becomes famous since everyone in America wears “Pete Rob” Deluxe Ties. He makes several billion dollars, and doesn’t know what to spend it on.

After a few years of fame and fortune, Pete Rob decides to invest his life savings in a new company that makes neckties that are long enough for him. But when people see Pete Rob’s long tie, they call him a phony and shun him from the fashion world forever. This doesn’t bother Pete Rob, because he is the happiest person in the universe with his long ties.

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blue

On February 25, 2016
a poem by [jordyn]

cotton candy
the sky in here
when it’s day time
the way I fell
on my bad days
the tropical
juice I drink
on my thirsty days
the main color
of the dots
on my covers the color
of my lollipop
when I have my days
blue, red, yellow,
orange, purple,
and green

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silences

On February 22, 2016
a poem by [deante]

My love is silences
I never did wrong
All I want to do
is win your heart over like
a game of Ping-Pong

I could keep going
but it would be too long
I would sing this song
but I’m afraid if another girl
will be drawn

I stay up to the break of dawn
I just wanna say this

You’re the cat to my hat
the Jack to my Flap
the water to my lake
the Hotline to my Drake
and the real to my fake

I could keep going but you get the point

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the afterlife

On February 22, 2016
a poem by [amyah]

You were like a father to me
You showed me a lot of things
I know it happened years ago
But you showed me the way to go

I can lie and say I remember it all
But when I try I start to bawl.
Even though it wasn’t your fault
They hurt you because they thought
You were someone else

No matter how much I cry
I know I’ll only see you in the afterlife

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tough to despise

On February 7, 2016
a poem by [lylah]

Is it because my hair is long,
a stream of black? Or because
it goes halfway down my back?
Or is because I’m lighter
than a paper sack, and the next
black girl isn’t like that?
Is it because she has little
naps, and they say I act
white—I’m not the real black?
Could you explain that?

Is it because their pants hang
low or their music is rap,
R&B or soul? Or because
they are darker than you?
Outsiders think our nice rides
are stolen cars. They call
the lighter ones like me
beauty stars. Do you know how

hard we’ve been fighting
to get this far. This death,
the broadcasting of riots.
It’s taught, with birth,
racism isn’t brought. Kids
raised to be sold and bought.
We are also blessed with love
from the most precious God
above. Racism is not tough
to despise.

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a trip down the hill

On February 7, 2016
a story by [essence]

It was my 6th birthday. I was outside with my friends and family sitting on top of the hill. My dad came outside and said, “Please be careful kids.” I stared at him. “Don’t treat me like I’m a little kid—I’m 6 years old now.” He went back in the house, and I smiled at my best friend Jennifer. Jennifer looked at me and sighed. “You’re going to drive your bike down the hill, aren’t you, Essence?” I nodded and grabbed my bike.  “You know me too well, Jennifer.”

We stopped at the top of the hill, and I got on my bike. My brother Tyler and sister Tiffany were watching me from the bottom of the hill. I got on my bike and Jennifer sighed, “Don’t say we didn’t warn you.” My little brother Tyler yelled, “You can do it, daredevil!” Jennifer and I looked at each other and nodded. Jennifer pushed me, and I started down the hill. I started slow and got faster as I went down. As I reached the bottom, I tried to stop. Well, the bike stopped, but I went flying over the handlebars. I got up and had scratches all over me, with a broken arm and a cut going down my ankle.

 

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be a hero

On February 7, 2016
a story by [jada]

There one day was a girl named Blank. They called her that because no one knew her name. She was unknown. The little girl didn’t talk to anyone. Everyone wondered, “Why is she here?” People always talked about how she was ugly. She felt like she was being bullied. She was pretty. She thought, “Why are they making fun of me? They are just jealous.”

That same day, she went home and committed suicide. She made a video before she did, and it said, “I am sorry to the people who knew me, but the people who bullied me wouldn’t stop, so I had to do what I had to do.”

P.S. If you see someone getting bullied don’t be a bystander. Stand up and be a hero.

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who would love a psychopath?

On February 7, 2016
a poem by [lylah]

Visions of bloody violence dance through my dreams. Dark
desires lurk inside me and never fade away. The voice
in my head tell me to hunt for prey. I’m scared to sleep
because of the frightening seams. I’ve been watching you
for so long. Wherever you are, I am never far behind.
The thought of you steams the mirror of my mind. I’m a shadow
in the dark. I’m the chills down your spine. You try to run,
but fail to hide. I can see the fear in your eyes, feel the pain
deep inside. I should stop but I continue down your path,
and say to myself, “Who would love a psychopath?”

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