March 2024

She has never smoothed your knot,

But a button goes missing;

You have never fingered her flute,

Yet a note seeps sizzling.

All you wish to embrace, you have not;

Go sit on the wrong train, dragging

With you its cold metallic hoot;

Can you hug hollowness with no filling?

March 2024

Ponder the Tomato

If I could sink into a world divine
To shed my woes; still I’d think—
Ripe tomatoes are plucked from the vine.

The world grows seething and vulpine
But I stay for only pleasures drink
When time, beauty, and taste combine.

I could cross it all out, line by line
But it does not erase the written ink:
Ripe tomatoes are plucked from the vine.

Let’s leave behind a world benign
Where there are no crossroads, there is no link
When time, beauty, and taste combine.

And if I choose to leave a world entwined?
The world says go, says with a wink,
“Ripe tomatoes are plucked from the vine”.

So let us all do and die, die and dine—
And into bliss and darling—shall we sink?
When time, beauty, and taste combine
Ripe tomatoes are plucked from the vine.

Chapter 2022: Citizens Of The World – Let Peace Begin by  Y.A.M.A

01/03/2022

If you want a reason to kill, then ask the agents of peace. Well, they say that all you have to do is summon the spirit of peace. But when did peace, the presence of conflicts with the absence of violence ever become a great reason to kill? What is peace if it’s acquired through the means of violence? But I guess now the means justify the end and that is what they call peace. A territorial commodity won through violence. And yet, I firmly believe that war and victory in the same sentence is an oxymoron in all its sense. If not then peace has lost all its meaning. So what is peace other than the product of Capitalism? Is peace a manufactured Utopia? I’m asking you, what is peace if the power that a nation holds is more important than the lives lost in battle? Why burn with fire, what can be solved with water? All I know is that peace will be found when the value of life is freed from the love of power, often held by Atlas. For now I could only imagine what peace is. Then tell me what do you or can you imagine, when the symphony of peace strokes your fawning ears? Most importantly, know that whatever you imagine is not merely a dream, as it will lead the way for humanity. With only more questions that arise and are dying to be answered by our generation and the next through change. In the end, I can’t help but hope that I will only rest in peace when change is known to and by all that stand or fall.

Sincerely,

 Y.A.M.A

What If? by Megan De Sousa

In the high school’s guidance counsellor office, M stands lifelessly in front of Julian.

M: No, I’m not going to accept your apology. (Beat)

What? Take that god awful look off of your face. Did you expect me to forgive you? Did you think I was going to come in here and gather you in my arms and whisper into your ear how much I miss our spontaneous midnight calls? Why do you deserve satisfaction? (Beat)

You could have ruined my life and don’t you dare say I ruined yours because you got suspended for posting that video. You’re too brainless to go to university or college and even if you were considering it, now you get to ask yourself: was it worth it? (Beat)

You destroyed me, I mean look at me. I’m unstable and it’s all because of you. When I abandoned my integrity and texted you, I asked if you posted that video of me, you told me I was erratic. That I was delusional. And now that I know what you’ve done, now that me and everyone I know has seen that video–. (Beat)

I can’t even look at myself in the mirror. Every time I spray on that vanilla perfume, all I smell is the tequila on your breath. Every time I touch the striped nylon fabric of that dress, my favourite dress, the one my mom picked out for me from Forever 21, I can feel you and it’s like you’re taking advantage of me again and again again AGAIN! And I don’t even remember getting violated, Julian. I had to see it through a fucking video that you recorded and posted everywhere. You shattered me and I am incapable of collecting the shards of myself. (Beat)

I can’t escape the memory of when on one of those late night phone calls, when we were hidden under the safety of our covers, your once-sweet voice asked what my parents taught me growing up; I mentioned to you that my father advised me to never be vulnerable. Well, you got me, I slipped up. Yet, I’m still troubled with why? You held me and promised you’d never let me suffer and yet you were the one who slid your fingers in my—. (Beat)

You’re the one who wanted to clear your name, so give me a reason to forgive you. Give me a reason to say “Oh Julian, I completely misunderstood what happened that night”. I want to understand, I need to understand, make me understand! (Beat)

But you don’t have a reason, do you? And so I won’t forgive you and that’s the one shred of dignity I will hold onto.

Jealousy Is About Sadness by Visaree Bradshaw-Coore

Dripping globs from my strNGLED JAW
Suck it down It can’t spill out
That’s not who I am
But my heart and her wretched corner I thought I pried and expelled has this molasses spewing from my centre
Stinging tears unshed twhack 
All I can feel is the cavity it has given me
And Oh how it stings to see your denial fester and move on
A vehement coming to terms thrusted by divine intervention

I loved her

A note to the two students in Ukraine that Scarlett has tutored online. 

For Elizabeth, Vika. 

Dear friends; close, close friends,

I know so much about you both; what makes you laugh, your goals, why you are who you are. Yet I don’t even know how tall you are. But it’s not your height that puzzles me. Maybe one day we will get to meet. The clothes you wear and the bags you carry, I do not wonder, as much as I do your safety: are you? Scared is one, danger is another. They can go together but when we email, is scared just the easiest way to reply to my questions, or are the noises of the bombs that are destroying parts of your identities and homes the reason for this word? Please be honest. 

Because it has been a year. A year since when? A year since I met both of you. I thought I was going to be the teacher. It was going to be strictly e, a, i, o, u… “y” did we become friends? We were supposed to stick to the curriculum. But we didn’t. I learnt about you and you learnt about me. I used to say “Homework for next week is…” and now the caption of our emails read “Just checking in”. 

Dear friends; close, close friends, 

I think of you both, I think of your country, and I think of your smiles. But I don’t wish you the best because that would be ignoring your pain, and struggles that you are allowed to feel. 

Dear friends; close, yet now distant, friends,

I thank you both for what you have taught me. I thank you and I think about you both. A. Lot.