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17 Oct


by Brezane 


My neighborhood is annoying

I have neighbors that look at me if I were Lady Gaga.

Some look at me as if I’m just not human

But there is one neighbor that I will probably never forget

She is an eleven year old who basically idolizes me

She has blonde hair with startling green eyes

She’ll knock on my door no matter the circumstance

Whether there is a blizzard or a tornado outside. I expect her to be there.

She sings very loud to various artists

She always thinks she’s right whether she’s debating about Justin Bieber’s best song

She knocks on my door as if she were on fire

She laughs when nothing is funny

She yells when everyone is at a whisper

She screams when nothing is wrong, her scream like a police siren


She is also the one that wipes away my tears.

She is the one that supports me a 100%

She’s the one that puts a smile on my face

She is the one that will always be next door.

She is the one that looks at me if I were made of gold. 

She is the one that I thought of when I thought a true friend.

She is the one that will read this when no one else will.



16 Oct

by Q

From my perch atop this shabby, graffiti ridden, plastic and metal jungle gym the first thing to engulf my senses is downtown. Even though I am far away from the sights and smells of the center of this city, it assaults me. The sky scrapers, blemishes on the sky, are the tallest buildings in town. I see them above the trees and smog creating monumental polluting giants. Then as I look closer to myself, on the grounds and park ahead of me, I see a different story.

From my vantage point I get a great view of the ground, littered and befouled by trash and cigarette buts, and every second more I look upon this ground I see more. On the walls I see a city covered in vandalism, graffiti in many words, letters, and pictures beseeching a city and causing it to bleed. And under the heat of an afternoon sun I still can see trees and grass. But upon a closer inspection it reveals more, better hidden, but nevertheless, more trash and filth. It’s inescapable and everywhere, a cigarette carton there, trash every where and it disgusts me. However some may find beauty in this, I don’t. The trash, a culture, and the graffiti, a masterpiece, I think not.

We have left the playground of a crumbling, crime-filled school and moved onto a park. At first it looks better but that is a trick of the eyes. The longer you stay and closer you look you find the same filth. You find used plastic bottles and even blunt wraps littering the ground. The only clean thing would be the tops of the trees. Tall swaying in the breeze and untouched by society trash and violence for many years. The trees are able to see beyond and above everything, except the smog. Air that should be clean and breathable for them is polluted and turned into smog, a disgusting layer of artificial and polluted fog taking over the trees tranquility. Dirtying its root and destroying its peace and yet still some find beauty!

Then, alas, we come to the people. Their houses, their homes, are surrounded and even engulfed in trash, drugs, plants and violence. There are people here trying to take care and clean up this neighborhood only to see their efforts go in vain. There are good people who take time and effort to care for and clean their neighborhood to make it better, and even though their efforts are futile, they are appreciated. It pains me to see the place I moved to, filled with guns, drugs, and violence.