Daily Archives: June 5, 2006

15 posts

“Always About Alexis” by Stephanie Rusch

"Stephanie, are you almost done yet?" Alexis says in a sleepy voice.

"Yes just give me a couple more minutes!" I murmured back to her. We both share a bathroom in the morning getting ready for school so I'm always trying to get in the shower before Alexis does. This is a typical morning for us; we are always trying to beat each other to using the shower, hair dryer, or the hair straightner. Of course, we have our arguments about things like who was going to do what first. After living with Alexis (Ali is her nickname) for 16 years we have managed well and figured things out with out attacking each other every morning.

"Ali, it's 7:10, we need to get going to school right now!" I exclaimed.

Like usual, we are running behind or in a rush and just need to get to school. We pull up to school at 7:15 and we go our separate ways. Ali goes through her school day which I would say isn't so normal compared to other students. She is taking mostly all AP or honor classes. Depending on what season, it is, she is always busy after school.

It's fall time, school just started and Ali, now an upperclassman, is on the varsity tennis team. She is a fighter in this sport. This is her favorite to play because it's something she likes to do for fun and gets a good work out. She comes home with a sun-kissed look and goes right to doing homework. It is now winter time, the middle of the school year and Ali is now in basketball. She is in this sport for the discipline and motivation to be better than she was the season before. Basketball is probably one of the hardest sports on her because she puts in so much heart and does everything she can with a positive attitude. Even though her basketball season hasn't gone the way she wanted it to, she stays positive. Once practice is over she comes home with a flushed look on her and again goes right to doing homework. It's now spring time, end of the school year and Ali is a star on the track team. Track is the hardest on her body because of the tough work outs the track team does. Ali feels that she has a lot to live up to because our oldest sister was a 3-year state track runner. No matter what sport she is doing, she puts 100% into everything she does. She keeps her body in shape from all of the sports that she participates in. Ali is most serious about school and sports, but outside of that all she is quite the humorous girl.

"Do you want to play Barbies?" Ali asked in her little girl voice.

"Yeah let's go!" I would say back to her in an excited voice. Ali and I would play Barbies for hours and hours every day when we were younger. We had over 50 Barbies, each of them had a name and we would each play with the same ones every time. Ali has an imagination where she could go in her own little world and just play the whole day; that's what I admire about my sister, she isn't a materialistic girl. She doesn't need something to keep her occupied, she just uses her imagination and she'll be good for the day. I can remember all the times when we were younger, nobody could believe that my sisters and I were actually sisters because of the way we would play and get along. That is still true about my sisters and me to this day. Even though we don't play anymore, we hang out just like best friends would.

Ali has got this extroverted personality about her. She is a warm and welcoming person and has no enemies. Ali is always there to give advice to anyone who needs it. The best conversations that we have is late at night since our rooms our only separated by the bathroom and 10 feet down the hall. I go and sit in her room on school nights. She has the candles in her room lit with slow music playing, and just her Christmas lights on. We talk forever about random things that just come into our heads.

"Girls, it's going on 12:30, what are you still doing up?" our mom yells up the stairs.

"Mom we are having a sister conversation, it's okay!" I yell back down to her.

"Well you girls need to go bed, you have school in the morning!" our mom would yell back up the stairs. Ali and I would just giggle and start talking a little more quitely so she couldn't hear us. These times I will remember forever because once I leave soon for college, I'm not going to be able to have these conversations with Ali. Ali is one of a kind and a very compassionate person.

"How was your day mom?" Ali asks in a cheerful voice.

"It was good. How was yours?" My mom replies back to her.

Ali is always seeing how other people are doing and making sure everyone is having a good time. She carries herself with confidence and always has a vast smile on her face. One thing that makes her weathered acorn eyes light up is her boyfriend, Jared. They have been dating for 6 months, but they have dated on and off throughout the years. When Ali isn't busy with school or sports she is most likely with Jared.

"Mom, can Jared please come over tonight?" Ali asks with a beg in her voice.

"Sure, just remember it's a school night so no later then 10:30!"

Our mom says back to her.

"I know that mom, thanks!" Ali cheerfully says back.

"Ali it's going on 10:30 and Jared needs to be home, it takes him 10 minutes to get home, and he should probably get going!" my mom yells down in the basement to Ali.

"Mom, we know that, we are coming up soon!" Ali says back to her.

Jared has become part of the family because he is always over here; it's a good thing that we all like him so much! Not only does Ali care about Jared, but she also cares a lot about her friends and family. It's nice having two sisters that are always looking out for each other. If one of us gets in trouble at home, we stick up for one another. Now that our older sister is at college, it brought Ali and me a lot closer together because it's just the two of us at home. We go to each other with boy problems all the time now.

"Ali, what am I supposed to do about this problem?" I ask Ali.

"Well you're a strong girl, you'll figure everything out, and things will be ok!" Ali says back to me with confidence. She always knows what to say and how to help everyone out. She makes people feel good about themselves.

"Where is my cell phone? Where are my jeans? I can't find anything!" Ali says in a panicky voice.

"Well, where did you last have everything?" I say back to her.

"I don't know, I thought I had everything right here." Ali replies.

One thing that Ali isn't really good at is staying organized. She is so busy with everything else that she doesn't have time to keep much in order. I am always hesitant about letting her borrow my things because she some how always manages to loose everything. It's not just little thing she looses, they are big expensive things like her cell phone or a new coat from Hollister. If she doesn't loose it, people steal her things because her stuff is always in the locker room for sports. All of these traits of Ali are what makes her, her own person.

Growing up with two sisters each of us two years apart, we all learned to get along and be best friends. There are times where Ali and I don't get along, but the good thing about being sisters is that we always make up. Ali is a very hard working and determined girl and always wants to do her best.

“The Dectective’s Special Hat” by Sam Reinke

His tattered brown fedora flapped in the wind and almost came off the detective's head, but he caught it just in time. The cold battered him as he walked towards the tavern on the docks. The man at the front stood up as he approached and asked what he wanted.

"To speak to a man inside," the detective said, glaring out from under the hat that gave him an air of superiority over the man at the door. It could be felt, it hung in the dense air like a warning.

The guard sat back down in his chair as the detective walked by and opened the door.

The action froze as he walked in and the looks began. "Who the heck are you?" asked one man.

"My name is Morris, Detective Morris," he said as he slowly removed the hat so the men in the tavern could see his eyes.

His eyes were special, a dark color. Almost like steel, and they were intense. God, they were cold and intense. When he looked at you, those eyes cut you to the core. It was as if he could, just by looking, tell who you were and what you were going to do in the next few minutes.

Morris stared at the man who had spoken, "Please take your hat off," he said evenly, commandingly. The man looked around to see if he had any support and seeing that he had none, he complied. He set his tattered ball cap on the table.

"What's your name?" Morris asked.

"J-Jones sir, Bill Jones," he stammered.

"Jones, would you step in the back room with me for a minute. I have several questions for you." Morris makes the request, quietly, although everyone in the room knew that if Jones didn't there would be problems.

The bar-keep felt it too and yelled at Morris, partially to help him out and partially to get him out of the room. "Morris has a way of discouraging the spending of money in this place." The thought ran through his head, he yelled, "Morris! I need him to able to walk out."

"We shall see how our talk goes. Mr. Jones should be able to walk. If anything, he will have to get help going to the bathroom." he replied coolly.

The rest of the taverns occupants sat still and silent, not wanting to cross the man that had interrupted their night of drinking and mischief.

Jones got to his feet as Morris placed his hat back on its perch. He smiled a cold smile, the kind that was forced and didn't show memories of good times.

As the door to the back room closed, the men in the bar went loud with plans to get their friend back so he couldn't talk. Amid the yells of crazy plans that called for Morris's death in a hundred ways, the barkeep spoke up. "Jones will be fine," he said almost silently. The bar went quiet.

"Why should we listen to you?" a man asked.

"That would involve damaging Morris's hat and that, gentlemen, is a very bad idea."

The faces told the bartender to go on with his tale.

"It was a cold night." he started. Upon hearing a loud noise from that back room, he went silent.

The back door opened and Jones walked out calmly. He looked around the bar, forced a smile, and walked calmly outside. It was then that the others inside the bar heard a blood curdling scream from outside! They ran outside to see Jones running down the street like a mad man screaming about Mr. Morris's hat, of all things. They ran to catch him, and realized that the man who put Jones over the edge was still in the bar.

They ran back in to see that Morris was standing at the bar having a drink, talking casually with the barkeep. They grabbed him as the barkeep smiled, turned and walked out, leaving a final warning.

"What you do to him the hat will do to you."

"What do you mean?" asked a man in a tattered fur cap.

"The hat watchs out for its head." The barkeep said. Then he walked out the door, never to be seen again.

"I'd listen to the barkeep," Morris said quietly.

"We want to know what you did to Jones and what the bar man meant."

"Jones needed to tell me what happened at his girlfriends house the other night. He went over there and she turned up dead. He apparently killed her because she wouldn't marry him. As for the hat, well that is one heck of a story. This hat has been in my family for over a hundred years and is cursed. Not the kind of cursed your thinking of, no, this curse is the kind that returns harm done to another person. Jones, he killed his friend, so the hat killed him." stated Morris.

"That's bull!!" another man yelled and punched Morris across the face. Immediately, the man was punched across the face by... nothing!

"I told you."


That set an old sea captain off, he tore his sailors' hat off and pulled out a gun.

To this day, no one knows what exactly happened in that tavern on the dock after the captain pulled the gun, but strangely, after the building burned down, a battered brown fedora hat was all that survived.

untitled by Joe Machetto

in his hotel room
he made a shrine
on top of a bureau

memorabilia of his life

a bible
his expired passport
a baseball card
protected by a plastic sleeve

a Miles Davis CD

and a photo of Judy Garland
from the Wizard of Oz

untitled by Joe Machetto



the walls are cracked
the paint peeling
the linoleum is dirty
and curled at the edges

there are two empty bottles
on the kitchen floor
spinning

and i don't remember the days
as the roaches taste my sweat

“Do it Yourself!” by Emilee

I'm sick of rude customers
Telling me I don't know what I'm doing
Even though I've worked here for over a year
"That's supposed to be on sale!"
No it's not, it says SELECT items
Now what?
This coupon is only good if you buy TWO!
"Well why don't you smile more?"
Do you always have good days?
Seriously if one more person complains?
"Well they only get friendlier and friendlier here"
You know what?
DO IT YOURSELF!
I QUIT!!!!

“Love Light” by Faith Elizabeth Brigham

if you took
the sun and the moon
and all of the stars
put them in a room
their light could
not compare to
the brightest of light
in my delight
as i gaze into
the shimmering eyes
of the love
of my life
yes, my baby's love
is almighty bright

“Cruel Intentions” by Molly

Broken once before
Didn't know what to think
What to do
A year passed with a nice word
Other than hurt feelings
And words that shouldn't be said
Cruel Intentions
I try to talk, I try to work it out
But knowing that I lost the most
Important thing in my life
          HURTS
The person I trusted
The person I thought I knew all about
The person I thouht I
          LOVED
Did you have cruel intentions
          Or
Were you telling the truth

“Me Poem” by Matt Erickson

The buzzer sounds,
And the game begins.
I'm sitting there waiting
Just waiting to go in.
The coach yells my name,
And I go to the table.
I talk to the person I'm going in for,
To get their opponent.

I get the ball,
And drive to the hoop.
I get fouled,
Because I did a little scoop.
I look at the clock,
Theres no time left.
We're losing by one point
And I get to shoot my free throws.

I dribble the ball,
And then twirl it on my finger.
I did my routine,
Now im ready to shoot.
The whole gym is quiet,
Not a sound to be heard.
I shoot the ball,
SWISH is the sound that you faintly
Hear under the sound of the crowd.

The referee gives me the ball back,
I take my dribbles for one last time,
Twirl it on my finger again.
I get set to shoot,
And let it fly.
It seems like everything is in slow motion,
Until I hear and see the ball
Go through the hoop,
SWISH.

“Signal Themes” by Lee J. Erdo

And so, it was...
moody yesterday... chocks words!
breathing hard...
out of prejudiced
agreement
yes
imperfect with untrained eyes
mocked... belittled
deliberately dressed up with violation

however,

a lace of white supposes fix
determined half blooded author
sorting hats
wizarding powerful little something's
where interior distinctions require
physical exertion
sometimes hard...

ya know, they almost flew... those little something's

that people insist on giving... gentle into some

good night, where wolf eyes become the other

side of love...

there's a place which speaks
with the dead
in deep breath
and a wand pointed
at lonesome love
to defend swans without fear
without half seasons
in a mind's eye

and there...
outside of time
a crown of North
gives silver threads
to dreams and delusions
even in humiliating things
standing under the
shadows of trees...
with desire to inflict
a robin's promise~

bonds by which
the world wills...
through grape crops
and stroking psyches
spurring the ribs
of unflinching candors
silent lyrical bullion...
stoic unconscious
which escapes one's notice

perhaps misshapen
perhaps only in slight gesture
faintly misguided

but entirely with cerulean rose
yes,
in mundane garnets soaked
where a garden stretches between
abutting thick folds
of multiple sensations

call it, a rally cry of white reserve
straightforward... of that you can bet

bringing closer the grail bird
escaping constraints
stern burlesque
of humanism
resurrecting
moving
water

a manic energy shuttles,
between two extremes
giving matter and memory
an instance
a pulse
a breezy pun,
if you will,
even if,
pale in theme and moment

arising in one particle
of myriad fates
wispy cosmic forces
pledging allegiance
fledglings of free verse
willfully yawning chasms
& orderly forms


Footnote: Dichotomy = a cutting into two, subdivision, or the astronomy Moon phase when half visible: the phase of the Moon or a planet when half of its surface appears illuminated by the Sun

That said, how closely tied, or melded, if you will, are the good and bad... chaos & harmony, must be and are... without one, there would not be the other, all elements essential in our lives... forces, energies, combined, how close ties form perfect patterns... in all things... in life.