poetry

• To a True Friend

• Dead or Alive

• Untitled 1

• I am Tollbooth Tilly

• Name

• Definition of a promise

• What Best Friends Are

• The Time Before She Did Not Know

• Sarah

• Tears N' Love

• Alone

• Soldier

• Come Into my Dreams

• Untitled 3

• The Pearl

• Untitled 4

• Untitled 5

• Untitled 6

• My Reality

• What to do

• Future

•  Too Late

• Karate

• Verse Freely

• Untitled 7

• Perception

• Hate

• I´ll be waiting

• The End

• Taught to fly

• The Clouds

• What's the point

• Untitled 9

• Untitled 10

• Untitled 11

• I don't mean to sound generic

• Blackenwhite

• Waiting

• Why

Essay/Prose

• Untitled 2

• War

Short Story

• Me and Gladys

• Silence

• The Return to God

• Orchestra

With war at their fingertips, they dare not look behind,
Afraid they'll turn to see what's been haunting in their mind.
The sight from which they see the men
Transform from young to old,
Exchanging of their organs
And their trademarks scatter the world.

Grandmothers, old and frail,
Dream as they lye awake,
Dream of suffering, and whose lives may be at stake,
Evil from which they fought had died,
Once more comes back to life,
From which had ruined and tortured,
Made them a lonely wife.

From a time they believed so much had banished,
Become content, watch their dreadful memories slowly vanish,
Once again the young ones see the tears from
Their lonely grannies eyes,
Tug on the cardigan, wonder why they see her cries.
She knows what to expect,
"Daddy won't be coming home tonight."

As for the men, fought, and won their death,
Their blood-drenched bodies breathe not a single breath,
Believed they could go home feeling wise and bold,
Get through it alive, to have and to hold.
Their homeland grieve, take pity on their soul,
Dig out their future, a grave filled hole.

You are Posiedon,
God of the ocean.
Strong, brave, protective.
Unforgiving to your
Foes,
But patient and loving to your
Friends.

You are independent
And forceful.
When harm comes towards
Your friends or family
They know that
You are right behind ,
Giving love, support and a shoulder 
To cry or lean on.

You are each individual
Wave
Washing up on the beach.
You come and go,
People are sad when you leave
And yet reassured because they
Know that you will
Always come back.

If you are
The ocean,
I am the
Ocean floor.
If you are
The wave,
I am
The beach, which you wash up on.

Making it through
Good times and bad, through
Love and friendships, through
Heartbreaks and death
You depend on me,
And I on you.
The inseparable pair,
You and me.

Best friends are a smile,
One that will always brighten your day.
Best friends are a hug,
That reassures you, the world is yours.
Best friends are a few words,
To tell you everything will be ok.
Best friends are there,
To accompany you in seeing the world.
Best friends are a glance,
That enables you to communicate with eachother.
Best friends are an ear,
That will always listen to your  problems.
Best friends are a soul,
That you must treasure for a lifetime.

The Time before she did not know,
Unaware of how her life would go.
She did not know of what was to be,
That far ahead she could not see.

She only knew of how to run,
Happily, gaily, beneath the sun.
How to play and romp in the grass,
Oblivious of what was soon to pass.

Protected from all of life's sins,
And its game that's hard to win.
Childlike ways of thinking pure,
Not thinking about what life endures

Her beauty was beyond compare,
The way the sunlight hit her hair.
Eyes only a goddess would claim,
Soul only a prince could tame.

Yes, this girl had a heart of gold
That truly shattered the average mold
Last but not least her intelligence my, Lord!
Unmistakably she was sharp as a sword.

They all knew she was as good as they came.
They all knew she just wasn't the same.
Jealously filled their foolish hearts,
as they brutally tried to tear her apart

Three long years of hate age 10 to 13,
Her confidence broken or so it had seemed.
They thought the life in her was gone,
They thought their adolescence game had won.

Alas, it's true, she still is scarred,
Those words and deeds were oh so hard.
It even seemed like her beauty died.
That's how much inside he cried.

Now all that was lost is rightly returned.
How smugly she smiles she hopes they've learned,
That true beauty exists in every way,
And it cannot be squandered no matter what you say.

And when a child is born to win,
Childish jealousy won't make her cave in.
Remember I said my heart was gold?
Well, gold is stone and stones are also hard and cold.

As I tip-toe toward the window
I heard a little voice
From up above,
Say to me
"Be strong and have faith"
I thought to myself
Maybe I should listten
Listen to my heart more often
Life can be hard sometimes but
you still need to go on with your life
you will love and learn in
every second of the day
just stay strong in every
Aspect of your life
Angels from up above
Will guide you
To your brighter future and
Soothe your feelings inside
Be bright and your
Life will turn out to be a beautiful
and wondrous thing
A whisper is a bright and joyous thing
to come forth to you

How do I say I'm over you,
When inside I'm falling apart,
How do I say there's no love for you,
When that's all that's in my heart,

How do I begin to say,
I need you back with me,
Need to be back in your arms,
Just like I used to be,

How do I say I never,
Meant to let you go,
And that now my heart is hurting,
More than you'll ever know,

How do I ask how I can,
Get you to come home,
Because home is where the heart is,
Not left here alone,

So, boy I'm here waiting,
And I miss you more everyday,
When you see my tears, Just know,
They're words my heart can't say.

I lost the fight but it's alright
Cause' I'm a soldier
You may defeat me but believe me
It's not over
I put forth everything I got
And I survive
You try to kill me but right now
I am alive
You pull me down to the ground
But I will stay strong
I won't be weak, I'll be on top
All my life long

I run and hide, you try to find me
But you don't
I'll slip away, you'll try to catch me
But you won't
You pull your gun and try to shoot
I get my knife
I won't let you destroy my world,
Destroy my life
I fight back with all I have
With all my heart
You give up quick, you know you can't
Tear me apart

Whatever you do, you can never ever
Put me down
No matter what you do, you can't
Knock me down to the ground
You think you got me, but, trust,
My life isn't over
I won't back down, I am an
Everlasting soldier...
 

Can you name the newest spring fashion? Shoe? Color? Hair cut? Swimsuit style?  I can't. Then again, I sport the ever-classic jeans and t-shirt look. But I find myself belonging to the minority in today's society. As I walk down the hallway I pass girls with their noses buried in "Vogue" or "Cosmo" catching up with the girls on the runway. I see the pictures of the models
on the covers and notice the reader has a similar, if not the exact same, out fit on.
  Then in class I see the chicks flipping through the pages of "Self" and "Fitness" magazines looking for the miracle move to flatten their abs or shape their butt or tone their legs, all while munching on greasy, calorie-filled snacks. Do you see something wrong with this picture?  I do. As a fellow female I worry about these girls. They eat, sleep and breathe what these 'teen bibles' tell them. When will this insanity stop?
  First I should address why we, as girls, read these articles. Reasons can range from self-improvement to self-consciousness. We feel like we don't fit in. All the other girls are skinnier, prettier, fuller, flatter.  The list goes on. We're searching for a way to feel like we are just like
everyone else. But as a result of living by the rules of the 'zine we don't live our lives; we live the life the authors tell us to.
  And we can't forget the male eyes that are always on us. Dress to impress, is what they tell us in not so many words. Movies, TV, ads, you name it. They all feature tall, thin blonds as the ideal female figure. You would have to search to find one that does not fall into this category. The image has been burned into our minds so successfully that if you do,
then you wonder why the heck they have that pudgy, brown haired girl on there. Surely they could have found someone more  beautiful and perfect to play the part of the heroine.
  And what about Barbie? Do you see any of the them that don't have a size 2 waist or less than a DD cup? No way. Not unless you're looking at Skipper or Kelly, who, as Barbie's sisters are expect to be exactly the same. But then you switch your focus back to reality and very few families work that way. Real life is full of diverse people. So why are girls so afraid to be different?
  I find that being different is something everyone has in common. We could all the be same if we would just be different. I enjoy being different than everyone else. I'm not a wallflower. People will remember me because I stuck out from the crowd. It just boggles my mind, as a girl, why we spend
so much time in the bathroom in front the mirror. Why waste you time doing that when you could be out doing something else, like playing volleyball or laughing with you friends or at least something fun?
  I mean, who are we trying to impress? Our friends? Well if they are our friends, we shouldn't have to, right? Ok, how about the guys? Maybe to a certain extent but just from catching bits and pieces of various guy conversations, I get the impression they don't find it very attractive when girls have the makeup caked on or her skin an unnaturally dark color. Any
males I've talked to seems to prefer the more natural look.
  I'll admit that I do read some of those magazines. And I do wear makeup. But I spend ten minutes at the most on either of them. It is fun to get princess-ed up and to look pretty and feel good about how you look. But it's way too high maintenance for every day. And I refuse to beat my body up and down on fad diets because of how some magazine is telling me I
should look. I am in charge of my body, my looks and my life. Girls of the world today let people write down their lives for them. They spend hours worried about what they look like and what people will think of them. But as time passes they will realize on their own, that the only way they can be happy with themselves is to BE themselves.
 

Soft as a shadow, like mist on the leather,
Come into my dreams, and stay there forever.
If you can't be in my arms, you can still touch my heart
and our souls will meet though temporarily apart
When i can't touch your lips, come dwell in my soul,
dispelling my loneliness, making me whole.
When the silver stars blaze, and the pale moon streams,
When a word comes between us, come into my dreams
 

City shoes stepping on country mud
Bring back memories you never forget
Memories of mud wars and horses
Running thru the dew covered fields
At the barn watching a rainbow appear
After a warm summer rain
Mud squishing in between your toes
Fishing in the not-very-well stocked pond
Cotton wars on neighbors' cotton fields
Sweet tea and lemonade on the deck
City shoes on country mud bring back
Warm country days in the south
 

I love you secret crush; I do
 not know what else to say.
I just want you to know that I've
 been dreaming life away.

I cannot help but catch your eye
 when I see you at school.
I tremble and my knees go weak
 and I feel like a fool.

During break, I look for you
 and try to say something,
but speechless, I can't find the words
 that could mean everything.

I hope you understand that I
 don't know what else to do.
I simply felt that you should know,
 I honestly love you.

She told me she loved me
She told me she never wanted to let me go
We played all day and all night
We played dress-up and painted our nails
She was so warm and lovable

Our love is undying, everlasting

Today, she is cold and far-away
She won't look me in the eye
She won't utter a single word
She refuses to laugh, even to cry

I thought our love was undying, everlasting

As I look into her handsome face
Her gorgeous, shiny locks
Her rouged cheeks and painted lips
I know I'm the one who's changed
But she will stay forever trapped in my Utopia
My perfect china doll

My love for her is undying, everlasting

See as I stand here looking at these faces,
Brown, white, black, from all these different places,
I wonder why the poor man always gets the cases. 
Hard as it is with nothing but Washington on his dollar faces.
Yet having the same blood run through them, knowing in my heart what God gave to em.  I contemplate us all seeing the same answers.  Cause problems today eat at us like cancer. We fight and kill, love and steal, deal drugs and still, wake up to the same sun, while some go to sleep with none. No family no food no jobs.  Laying there cold, soft echoing of sobs.  I think we should rethink our thesis.  Cause right now, right here, the world's in pieces.  The solutions won't come easy, yet we must never quit.  Lying isn't the answer and hate just ain't it.

when should a person realize,
that the past is the past,
and the future has nothing to do with the past?

when should a person realize,
that it's time to give up,
and move on?

when should a person realize,
that he or she or they,
will never be in their life ever again?

when should a person realize,
that it's the end of the road,
and maybe their time has come?

when should a person realize,
that nothing makes sense anymore,
so why sit there trying to figure things out?

when will that girl realize,
that she can stare out the window
as long and hard as she wants,
but he'll never look back at her?

when will that girl realize,
that she needs to forget everything,
and just get on with life?

when will that boy realize,
just how much he's hurting her
by not saying anything to her?

when will that boy realize,
that he meant more to her
than life itself?

when will that girl's friends realize,
that she's not ok,
and everyday that goes by,
and she sits there staring out that window,
that it's one less day,
she might be willing to deal with it all?

when will everyone realize,
that it's ME i'm talking about,
and that i miss him,
and that he doesn't see that,
and i'm so close to giving up,
surrendering to the pressures
of life and love...not only
on what i wish would happen between
me and that, at least what once seemed as,
and yet still seems to be,
mystery prince,
from my past,
but also giving up on living one more day,
knowing he knows none of what i speak?

when will people start to realize,
to comprehend, to begin to understand,
my fairytale wishes,
that will only ever be heard of
written down on paper,
and wisked into the wind,
as i make those idiotic wishes
on those stars..even though
they are just balls of gas out in space?

when will the world start seeing things through my eyes?
when will the world start living the hell i have to live?
when will the world start realizing what's really going on in my mind?
when will the world start to understand?
when will the world start facing... MY REALITY??
 

When the world falls
And skies cloud
And the smiles are gone.
Where to go
When your homes not there
And your family is no where to be found
What to say when your mind draws a blank
And words can't form
Like your froze into the exact position you were
When all this madness started
Where do you go you when no body knows and no one cares and they all sit and stare when the skies fall and the world is pitch black and your falling down into a huge crack
And you can't get up and you can't move
Where are you to go, when the worlds after you?

Years down the road
You'll look at this and say,
How could I have done that
Why did I act that way?

You let something go
That was dear to you.
But you tossed it to the side,
Gave up and said your through.

So many things you lost out on,
So many you could of had.
But you pushed it out of your life,
Without even feeling bad.

You gave it up to go for
Something that isn't true.
Your chasing after a life,
That wasn't meant for you.

Now I go for my goal,
A dream you once held too.
But I'm the one fulfilling it,
There's nothing else to do.

Rubber-band bodies
Bend and twist,
Stretch and snap.
Moving with
The swift,
Subtle grace
Of a tiger
That is hunting it's prey.  

Lips let loose
Fervent, forceful
Exhales, escaping
From the dungeons
Of the throats.
Rasping,
Like the voices
Of ancient phantoms
In torment,
Breathing their tragic tales,
Whispering their life stories,
Into our un-listening ears,
Trying to tell us something,
Trying to give us a warning. 

The drumbeat
Of feet against floor
Sounds through the air.
It is the pulse
Of the gym,
Striking a steady,
Synchronized rhythm
That is not knocked down,
That is not defeated. 

I speak what I feel
Deep down what is real
I lost what was once so found
Among the truth that seems so sound
I reflected the one moment, that ruled all
And promised myself I wouldn't stumble or fall
I cried rivers of tears and blood in my heart
While my passion for living was slowly torn apart
I catapulted away into a vault of nothingness
As my world filled with needle-struck numbness
I searched away in my layers of cynical soul
Steeped in pain as it took it's philosophical toll
Calling out in harsh deadpan winter's criticism
My own summit of superb sustained surrealism
Dodging this and that in a destiny controlled game
I long for futuristic happiness, wealth, and rapid fame
Awaiting my succession of madness from my raving mother
I longingly desire to be an unknown alien, a totally unique other
I slammed into a wall of my own demented concrete
Thus rocking to my instinctive sense of jutting beat
I recalled inspiring words from a wise and fatherly man
Who said you can do anything you set your mind to, man

I see a world that's a mass
Of rusted iron set in glass.
All the people do is keep
Dreamt disillusions. Fast asleep
They never wake to look around.
Wrapped in slumber, safe and sound.
I watch through dirty window panes,
At the children's un-felt chains.
One by one I set them free
Into this bleak reality.
They turn away from happiness
Abandoning their plastic bliss.
There are times I wonder why
I can't let them live a lie.
I cause them pain with what I do,
But now they know their pain is true.
 

Like the poisonous fumes
That chokes the life
Out of the air,
Hate consumes.

It's the heaviest load
That anyone can bear. 
It's weighs us down,
Making us one
With the dirt and the mud on the ground. 
It stops us from soaring
With the angels and the doves.
It throttles the goodness
Given from above. 

It kills
Our ambitions
And our goals. 
It gives us nothing to live for,
Except to annihilate
Those that we abhor. 

Hate robs us of all the treasures
That lie inside of each of us.
It robs us of true pleasure.
For isn't laughter and love
Truly better than battle and blood? 

Hate picks away
At our spirit,
At our soul.
As long as we carry it,
We are not whole.

Like a parasite,
It eats away at our hearts.
Taking, taking, taking,
And never giving
A single thing back. 

In the end, it leaves us with nothing.
Nothing,
But our nothing selves,
Who lack
All the gifts life gives.  

The end of the road; the edge of the brink;
Mind, body, & soul, all dangerously out-of-sync;
The ultimate price, alas, I have paid;
Victory & success, still, thus slowly fade.

Eternal suffering; pure tribulation;
Blinded by immorality & temptation;
Unfathomable depths into the unknown;
Shamefully defeated, & left all alone.

Peaceful bliss, can no longer pretend;
Everything deprived; nothing left to defend;
Darkness falls; Fear & confusion rise;
True "peace" hidden; camouflaged in disguise.

Life itself is cracked & ready to break;
One simple choice; one foolish mistake;
Pure "goodness", now ultimately rare;
Life: a sinful, malicious nightmare.

Have you ever wondered
What it's like to fly?
To spread your wings and glide?
They do.
They'll teach you.
In your dreams.

Have you ever felt the freedom.
To go where you'd like?
They do.
They'll teach you.
In your dreams.

Have you ever dreamt
That you were soaring?
It was the eagles.
Who taught you
To fly.

And when numbers 9-11
Appear on your T.V,
What follows them?
The symbol of freedom.
The eagle.
Who lifted your spirits
And taught you to fly.

And so you stand
With pride in your heart
When the national anthem plays.
Remember the eagles
Who taught not just you
But New York,
U.S.A,
And the world
To spread their wings,
And fly.

I quickly walked down the hall, taking quick nervous glances at some students casually leaning against the classroom doors.  I hated people looking at me, studying my every move, as if any moment now I would break down, and they would be there to witness my downfall.  I never knew how to hold my books, or how to walk without causing much attention.  Though it was silly to be concerned about such things, I cared a lot about what people thought of me.  I always wished I was one of those pretty girls that walked around looking confident, smiling, and waving a hello to most of the students that crowded the halls of the old high school.  Though a senior, I felt lower than a freshman, felt disrespected, because I knew that many people wished I wasn't there. 
I was never the most popular girl in school, I didn't hang out with the star football players, was definitely not invited to everyone's parties, and wasn't the brightest student in class; on the contrary, I represented the "average" girl.  The previous year I had had a tight group of friends, and was part of the drama club.  In the drama classroom I had eaten lunch and spent hours after school chatting with my friends, and planning the next school play.  Now, I had nowhere to go for lunch; a few underclassmen I knew waved at me between classes, but no one else bothered to acknowledge me, except to whisper as I passed.
As I made my way to the Spanish classroom, I began to think about that night that changed my life.   These thoughts were recurring, and as much as I tried to forget them, I couldn't. . .because they were part of me.  My heart began to accelerate.  I could feel it pounding against my chest, and my first instinct was to run away, to get away from everyone.  I couldn't stand the crowd, and as I began to take a firmer grip of my books, I decided I had to get away. 
Running towards the opposite hall from my classroom, I could feel everyone's eyes on me, but did it matter anymore?  It didn't, because they weren't going to make me feel any better, or any worse, and I decided to ignore the whispering, and comments they made as I tried to get away.
I opened the back door of the school, which led to the playground used by the childcare center near the school.  A few sprinkles of a morning shower hit my forehead, but unaware of my surroundings, I sat on one of the old swings, and began to sob, as I remembered that dreadful night.
"We are not driving like this; I won't let you drive home Katelyn".  I forcefully pulled the car keys away from my best friend, stumbled backwards, and almost lost my balance.  I was sure I wasn't going to let her drive, but next thing I knew, she had taken the keys from me, and we were on our way home.  I sat there, desperately wanting to say something, but I was as drunk as Katelyn, and neither of us was in condition to argue with each other.
I remembered that I had never before tasted the sour flavor of the cold beers that had intoxicated me, I felt as if a powerful force had freed my body, and I had danced with every boy in sight.  Now, sitting in the car, watching my friend swerve the car from side to side, I panicked, I knew something wrong was going on.  My mind knew, but my body seemed to have a mind of its own.
I feel trapped inside my own body' oh let me just move my fingers a bit, because we can't drive home.  Why can't I move?  Why am I still?
The road ahead seemed endless, as if the car stood still and nothing moved anymore, I closed my eyes to regain my posture, but I heard nothing anymore.  I could've sworn we were still at Kendall's party when I heard Katelyn's screams; they seemed miles away, maybe it was an echo; then the screams became louder and louder, and as I opened my eyes, all I heard was silence.
  "Silence can also be loud, and it awakes you from nightmares.  Silence may also bring the happiest of times, but it was silent the night Katelyn died.  Silence didn't bring comfort that night; in fact it was the loudest and sharpest silence I ever heard"
That's all I remembered reading at Katelyn's funeral; the rest of it was just a blurry memory.  In fact, everything since then, even after a year, was just a blur in my life.  I never knew exactly how to apologize to Katelyn's family; I never seized apologizing, though I had been told many times by them "it was a decision that both of you made, not just you".  I carried that night's painful screams with me; they weighed heavily on my body, and ruled my life.  But how could I get away from something so permanent?  Everyone in school knew of what had happened; they knew me as "the girl that let her friend get killed."  Everyone pointed, everyone looked, and as long as I lived, I'd carry the burden.
Part of me knew that the accident had been Katelyn's fault too, but I was alive and Katelyn wasn't.  It didn't make me feel any better.
  And, now, as I sat alone in the middle of the playground, I began to think that, though my friend was gone, I still had a life ahead of me, and that I only had to try harder.
As I continued to slowly swing back and forth, I felt a small hand touch my back.  I quickly wiped away my years and turned around to see a little girl smiling at me. 
  "Would you play with me?  None of the kids want to play with me because I'm the only girl here," said the red-haired little girl
I didn't know exactly why, but that when that small hand touched my back, it had made me feel wanted and needed again; of course it didn't make the memories go away, but it was a small beginning to the healing that should've started the moment I lost my friend.  I got up, reached for the little hand and walked towards the rest of the kids.

The English word war can be traced back to the Indo-European word wers, meaning to confuse or mix up.  And perhaps that says something about wars in general.  Every war throughout history can be traced back to a series of confusions or mix-ups.  World War I began when an Austrian Archduke was assassinated by a separatist group in Serbia.  Austria blamed the Serbian government for the death of their archduke, declared war, and, through a chain of treaties, the First World War began.  World War II, one of the most horrible things ever to happen to mankind, can be traced back to Hitler's confused, mixed up view of the world.  The Vietnam War was caused, and escalated by, the confused perspectives of a few powerful men.  And now, in the year 2003, the United States is, for the first time ever, starting a war without any provocation, due to the mixed up views of one man.
On September 11, 2001, the United States was stunned by a series of deadly terrorist attacks.  Shortly after the attacks, The U.S. Congress approved a bill allowing for the U.S. to launch a military assault against any country "perceived by the U.S. to be a terrorist threat."  It is this bill with which George W. Bush is justifying his actions.  What evidence has Bush given to show that Iraq is a dire threat to the United States?  Yes, Iraq possesses biological and chemical weapons.  Yes, Iraq has a nuclear weapons program.  Yes, Saddam Hussein has used weapons of mass destruction on his people.  Yes, Saddam Hussein has tortured, raped, and killed dissidents and their families.  But what has he done to directly threaten the United States?  Bush has given no evidence that Iraq supports or funds any terrorist groups, including Al Qaeda.  Iraq has issued no threats against the United States.  Iraq has not hoarded oil or arbitrarily raised oil prices.
Bush began his campaign against Iraq solitarily, then, under pressure from within the country and abroad, began diplomatic negotiations through the United Nations.  Under a U.N. resolution, weapons inspectors were sent to Iraq to locate and supervise the demolition of Iraq's weapons of mass destruction.  In fact, in the six months that the inspectors were in Iraq, more weapons were destroyed than during the Persian Gulf War in 1991.  They were making significant progress, but then, when Bush's arbitrary deadline for the success of diplomatic talks was reached, the inspectors left Iraq, in fear for their lives as war loomed.  Why were the inspections suddenly halted when they seemed to be progressing so well?  Perhaps Bush thought that if he ended the inspections soon and then presented the world with "evidence" as to why Iraq was a threat, he would seem as if he had made the right decision a few months earlier when he called for military action against Iraq.  The evidence of!
 Iraq's weapons program presented by Bush was a series of photos.  I'm no military expert, but the photos looked remarkably like black and white pictures of buildings and convoys.  There is no possible way to tell, from these pictures, what is inside the buildings, or what is being transported by the convoy.  Bush has completely failed to prove his case for a large military campaign against Iraq.
In a large-scale war against Iraq, hundreds of thousands of American troops are put in danger.  As President Bush said, "There's no question that we have put the finest of our citizens in harm's way."  Am I missing something?  Is this a good thing?  Last time I checked, putting our finest citizens in harm's way was a bad thing.  The United States is said to have most accurate weapons in the world, yet the first confirmed casualty of the war was a foreign taxi driver in Baghdad, who had stopped to make a phone call.  The Tomahawk cruise missiles used in the opening round of the war are accurate to within a six-inch radius.  At what exactly was that missile aimed?  Furthermore, Iraq has said it will position its weaponry near schools and other civilian areas.  Can we trust our missiles to hit their targets?  Or will they miss by twenty feet and hit a nearby hall packed with innocent Iraqi civilians?  Bush says that this war is designed to help Iraqi citizens, but will killing!
 them really help?
America has longed been perceived by the international community as an arrogant country with too much money and power for its own good.  This war has not helped to remedy that image at all.  In fact, it has just made it much worse.  Our three biggest allies in this war are Britain, Spain, and Portugal.  What does that say about a war when the third and fourth most powerful countries supporting it are Spain and Portugal?  Additionally, what will this war do to the already elevated gas prices?  It is reasonable to say that during the war, as the Iraqi military burns its oil fields during retreat, those prices could reach over two and a half dollars per gallon.  Is this going to help our economy?  Now, while reading this, some of you may get the feeling that I am somehow "Un-American" or "Un-Patriotic," and that I should support our troops.  Firstly, I would like to say that by exercising my right to free speech, I am doing exactly what the founding fathers of our country wanted me to be able to do; I am having my own opinions, beliefs and views about our government.  Secondly, I do support our troops.  As the war continues, I wish our troops the best of luck and I hope that they prevail.  One of the reasons I am against the war is that I don't want our troops half a world away from their families and friends, in constant danger of being killed.  Our troops are not pieces of machinery that can be arbitrarily put into danger.
So now I think back to the root of the word war and wonder once again; what confusion or mix-up has caused this war?  Were Bush's distorted views caused by the September 11 attacks on our country?  Or maybe his view of Iraq was distorted when his father began Operation Desert Storm.  Perhaps it was when a Hussein operative was caught attempting to assassinate George Bush Sr.  In any case, someone has to step up and remedy the confusion, because confusion can lead to horrible things.  To George Bush, and others in power, I leave with this warning, from Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet:  "Put up your swords, you know not what you do."
 

The clouds are coming and the rain starts to pour. The summer changes to winter and everything dies. The sun never shines and the moon is always out. All you have is a  candle to light the way. The bit of candle you hold in your hand is too much for the dark tunnel. So out of fear, you turn around. You don't want to walk through the darkness alone, but it seems there is no one there to light the way. So as you walk through the water, you slip, and reality hits you...there is no one there to catch you.
 

My dearest friend
I hoped to find you,
Sitting in your chair.
I did not see you,
And I cried out,
Feeling the despair.
I prayed to God that you were safe,
And in the door you then appeared.
As you remember,
We embraced,
And I longed to just stay there.
You were in pain,
I felt it too,
And silently,
I asked why.
The peace is broken,
Nations suffer,
And Angels fly away.
And as war brakes,
My heart aches,
To see the peace again.

As we move on in our
young lives,
We learn many things,
and set goals which
are sometimes hard
to control,
We take a test
even though sometimes
we might fail, we fall
in love hoping that it
won't be our last,
We strive to be happy,
even though sometimes
we aren't,
We live in a dream world
wishing for once it
were reality,
We sometimes feel down,
still hoping that one day
we will get to wear,
that cap, and gown,
We mature as
life goes, on
and learn things
that we are told,

We lose a loved one,
and mourn for them
until our tears
are no more,
Congratulations!
you made it,
time to face the real
world, and all
the joys, and dangers
in it.

Eyelids flutter
Shattered confidence is lent ease
Procrastination speaks
Every word comes as a squeak
Willful abandon
Of humanity

Thoughts of the mind
Undermined
Actions of the heart
Long to be expressed
Their will is hard pressed
To be impressed
Upon hands
Which are tied

Symbolically
A man in shackles
Burning eyes
Long to open
Tongue aflame
Words unspoken
A battle lost
Then forgotten

Eyes wide open!
Awake at last
Piercing blue eyes
Long to attack

The last time I opened my eyes
I saw innocence
Now all I see is hate and fear

I see a boy.

His life lived in fantasy
Dreads the new days dawn
Suggests reality
The euphoria
Of heinous acts committed
Then without reality
Acquitted
They are made unreal in our minds
Yet their immorality
Lingers behind

I see a girl.
 
A pretty girl
Last seen at fifteen
Put on a mask
Pale white
And mostly black
The plaster cracks
Waiting for the storm to pass

Tears pass through the cracks
Evidence she wants back
But it's too late
So fragile at seventeen

Leave her be until the morning light
Tears turn to blood
With the flick of a knife
So little effort
So much pain
Beneath the surface
I can't lay blame

A wish.
To shed my weathered coat
Deploy one white
With feathers
Take her under my cover
Room for two inside
Show her all the hope
Left in the world

It's true
Every word is a lie
But in every word
Lies a letter
Betrays the rest
Speaks true

With eyelids shut
Oblivious to time
Perception blurred
As if gazing
Through stained glass
Perceiving only shadows
Yet through illuminated vessels
Of blood veins nestled
I could perceive the final dawn
When the lights were dimmed
The curtains drawn

Into the sun
Our innocence runs.
 

Though they never say a word, my eyes cry out to you, since you've never seen or heard, they'll cry until you do.
Although a tear has never left my eye for you to see, I am dying deep inside and all who knows is me.
I look to you, you look away not seeing all my pain, and so my feelings from inside remain to stay the same.
Yet since I think that soon you'll know, I am sure that you will see, my heart is mearly waiting, for you who has the key.

When sun greets life in joyful hope each morn
And walk we 'round in blessings' garden slow,
Our plans take shape, in practiced hands they're formed,
Till out of crisp blue sky a thunderous blow
Rains glistening glass. In painful shards, they fall
From brightened dreams in double tow'rs, thus fly
To rest in bloodied dust of hopes piled tall
Midst mournful cries among the suffering-Why?

Beloved flow'rs from garden death has snatched.
Dark nights' deep dread obscures the stars above.
Demand we, "Why the Lord's strong arm won't match
In loving kindness, desolation's cuff?"
Yet self disarmed, from sorrow, weeping, turn
We find in joy the gentle Sun still burns.

It was Tuesday, and I was hurrying through the halls. Two minutes left! I walked as fast as I could toward the orchestra room. My eyes were fixed on the row of clocks in the hall.  Thirty seconds left! I turned around the bend. Five seconds left! I rushed into the orchestra room just as the bell rang.
     After checking that the attendance taker had seen me, I proceeded, very much relieved, to get my violin out of the instrument locker. I was walking toward my usual seat in the back of the room when someone yelled, "Hey! Today's backward day!" It was then that I remembered that yesterday, our fun-loving conductor, Mrs. H, decided to do something special for the day before the midterm finals.
     "Come on, let's switch seats now," someone else yelled, and I slowly headed up towards the front of the room. We had decided to flip the seating arrangements in the orchestra for one day, the ones sitting in the front to the back, and the back to the front.
     "Hey Ruth, you get to sit in the front now," Irene, one of my close friends, said cheerfully.
    "And you'll have to endure the terrible experience of sitting all the way in the very last chair," I reminded her with a mischievous smile. She just grinned and shrugged. Irene played viola, and she has always been either first or second chair. She didn't know what it was like. Ever since the beginning of the year, I had to endure the horrible feeling of being looked down at while I was sitting in the back. It wasn't entirely my fault, though. I actually had a pretty good chair, but our previous, even more fun-loving and unpredictable conductor decided to arrange the seats just a bit differently.
    Putting down my violin next to the front-most chair, I looked around. The closeness of the conductor's stand and overhead gave me a familiar feeling, I memories tickled the back of my head.
     The arrival of Mrs. H. broke up my thoughts. She popped out of her office and limped toward the front of the room. She lost one of her legs when she had been very young. Walking on her artificial leg, she approached her podium, and attempted to quiet the orchestra.
     "It's reading time, everyone. Sit down in your seats," she said her cool, steady, voice. Turning, and seeing me reading quietly in the chair next to her, she smiled, and whispered softly:
    "Well, Ruth, this is a nice way to spend your last day of rehearsal at this school. You get to sit here as concertmistress today instead of sitting all the way in that back row. Aren't you glad?"
     Although she meant well, she had no idea what effect those words had on me. I gave her a weak smile and nodded, but my heart felt like it was bleeding. How many weeks and months had I waited to be able to sit in this chair again? At how many rehearsals had I tried to contain the frustration of being regarded as an inferior player by classmates and visitors, when I knew I was not?
     Mrs. H. had started to read her book after I nodded, being satisfied with my answer. I lowered my head and tried to hold back the tears that were welling up in my eyes. All through the fifteen minutes of reading time, I silently cried inside.
     During middle school, I had been one of the best players in the orchestra, constantly sitting in that honored seat at the front of the room. I was very close to the teacher, spending many days after school with her, chatting about a number of different things. Those days faded away along with middle school, now replaced with constant put-downs from the upperclassmen, though they themselves were unaware of what they were doing. I tried as hard as I can, sitting in the back. I played through the music and tried to feel its soul, but it was no use. I was separated from the rest of the orchestra. Perhaps the worst part of this exile was the knowledge that I wasn't as bad as they thought I was. Though at times, especially when I had a tough day, I, too, had doubts. I felt pressure to fulfill the position that I had been unintentionally put in, whether or not I fitted the part.
     What I was enjoying at this moment-this privilege of being first chair, sitting in the principal seat-represented only a remaining flicker of what had been. Of those past days I had no more. At that thought, tears streamed down my cheeks, but I quickly wiped them away, fearing that someone would see. My heart ached terribly.
     Just then, the announcements came on. Although I often listened attentively, I ignored it this time. Still brooding, I started tuning my violin. Not surprisingly, the others were tuning as well. Some didn't even know the announcements were on, the din was so loud in the room.  Though I was still rather downcast, it amazed me how much one could hear from the front of the room. I felt as if I was sitting within the very nucleus of the orchestra.
     Mrs. H. stood up and clapped her hands. After a brief period of turmoil, everyone readied their instruments and watched for her cue. The rehearsal had begun. Oh, the harmonies I felt sitting in that first row! One could sense the pulse of the music beating through every section of the orchestra. Every little side melody could be heard, and every stroke of the bow could be seen. It was as if the music had just come alive, and I touched its very soul.
     I was lifted out of my melancholy mood by the joy of the full orchestra experience that I was delighting in. I floated through white, puffy clouds, each a shining note, dancing around me. I could see the wonderful music, and hear its rich story, and feel its various emotions. For one brief hour, I enjoyed again what I had not felt for what seemed a long, long time.
     Gradually, the rehearsal came to a close, and I was refreshed. I cheerfully took another look through this point of view, from the front of the room. Everything seemed to come together down here. Even though I knew that I would be back in my old seat on finals day, I was still joyful. Irene approached and trudged up to me.
     "I played terribly today," she said in a defeated voice, "I kept messing up. I'm so unused to sitting in the back. How could anyone hear anything back there? I could barely keep the beat."
     I chuckled at my troubled friend and thought about how lucky the orchestra was to have had me sitting in that last row. Somehow, I was able to keep beat and play through the music, even in an audibly unfavorable section of the orchestra. I realized that by struggling so hard to keep up with the first and second chairs, I had actually kept my small group of classmates in the back together by matching up with what the front was playing. Perhaps I was needed in the last row, just as the first and second chairs were needed in the first. All that I had gone through the past semester suddenly had a purpose. Nothing happens without a reason.
     The bell rang, I packed up, and slow left my last rehearsal in that orchestra room, in that high. Though I was worried, I was no more. I had closure.