POETRY: "The Beauty of Your Words" By Joshua Merchant

"The Beauty of Your Words"

By Joshua Merchant

Your looks are beyond comparison to any other.

Your smile draws out the happiness hidden within me.

Your eyes are a portal whose beautiful shade of blue

brings me to a place I like to call Euphoria.

But your words sing to me a sweet song of ecstasy.

POETRY: "Reminiscence of a Machine" By David Enicks

"Reminiscence of a Machine"

By david enicks 

When I was a young man,

I had legs for running and jumping.

When I was a young man,

I had hands for holding and touching.

When I turned 18,

they drafted me into the army.

When I turned 18

they took me away from my family.

As I got older,

I used my hands and legs for different things.

As I got older,

I used them for punching, kicking, and killing things.

After a few years there,

I forgot how to use my hands for playing.

After a few years there, I had become a killing machine.

By the time it was over,

they had taken my hands and feet.

By the time it was over

I had been nothing but a breathing hunk of meat.

Now I am an old man,

a rusty, broken killing machine.

Now I am an old man

and I watch as they turn my kids into the same thing.

 (c)davidenicks|2013

POETRY: "For the Flying Eagle" by David Enicks

"For the Flying Eagle"

By david enicks

All around, tears are heard

shed for the dying people.

All around, cheers are heard

sang for the flying eagle.

A wooden fence splitting the sounds,

one side with party and drink and joy

one side with bodies falling down

very few know it is all a ploy

The leaders, the generals

they neither sing nor cry

they just watch, seeing the falls

watching the people die

With an eagle disguise,

they hover above

giving men their knives

while the men cry 'enough'

and then the 'eagle' replies,

you are fighting for freedom

it is fine if you die

and so to battle they do run.

For the flying eagle.

(c)david enicks|2013

POETRY: "My New Beginning" By Joshua Merchant

"My New Beginning"

By Joshua Merchant

Most fear the concept of death, but not me.

Most shudder at the thought of eternal slumber,

yet, these are the thoughts that ease my mind.

The constant rhythmic beat of your pulse,

ticking like the watch of life, until, finally,

the watch just comes to a stop.

SHORT STORY: "Frozen Nights" By Zachary Velarde

 "Frozen Nights

By Zachary Velarde

 

            All was silent in the public park of Chicago, Illinois, on January 7th, 2004. The sun had set and the moon had rose and now hung in the sky, projecting its faint light for all to gaze in awe of. The snow had fallen already and it left the park covered in a fresh layer of snow, the type of fresh that was only found in zones without human contact. The park had many trails the led through it and a giant park near the end. the park had many all the average equipment; a seesaw, a swing set, some chairs, a bike rack, a play ground with mulch flooring. The only sound that could be hear, as faint as it was, was the shivering of the young boy who sat alone on the seesaw.


SHORT STORY: "Behind a Broken Smile" by Glacys Agustin

"Behind a Broken Smile"

By Glacys Agustin

As Adam rode down the sidewalk, his palms began to sweat in nervous anticipation. He hadn't been to Blue Star Book Shoppe in months, and since what happened had happened, he felt that now was the time to go. The coffee bean brown gable came into sight and Adam slowed his bike down to a stop. Staring at the happy cursive lettering on the sign, he leaned his bike against the stucco wall. Calm down, he told himself.

He wasn't really sure why he was so anxious. It wasn't like he was about to undergo a task where he could possibly crack under pressure. Adam lifted the hat off of his head and ran his fingers through his dark brown curls. It's because this is my first time here... without her. The beating of his heart was like the loud pulsing tempo of a bass drum. He set the hat back on his head and opened the heavy wooden door to the book store.

POETRY: "The Poor Frog" By Zachary Velarde

"The Poor Frog"
By Zachary Velarde

All morn the poor frog!
For he has lived through torture!