Whitney
by Daneesha Tillman
Sister,
When I hear your name tears come to my eyes.
Not because I’m sad, but because we are conquers.
We have bumped heads, acted lazy, and had to sleep in those beds.
We have been broken hearted, hard headed, silly, childish, and naïve.
Put our hearts in the Devil’s hands.
Thought we hung with sheep, but learned with the wolves we danced.
We caught snakes and sometimes they mirrored our reflections.
On cloud nine, feeling so divine.
But the whole time, we ourselves were out of line.
We laugh now and cover our eyes in shame.
We were the girls who thought they knew the game.
We went from pig tails to manicured nails.
House phone conversations about bribing a parent to take us skating,
Not even knowing in a couple years we would be dating.
Summertime was always rebellious and free, you always had the best birthday parties.
We tolerated, motivated, collaborated for a sisterhood to be celebrated.
No atoms in the universe could break down the history,
To call you a “friend” would be contradictory.
If you asked me today, I’d give you my kidney.
Don’t ever question my love for you, my Whitney.
Freakshow
by Jorge Pliego
Get your tickets here!
For a show not like any other
an arena of misfits.
No! My dear boys and girls you too are a part
of this freakshow.
You’ve whose minds contour into something oddly.
Not quite godly.
The show has begun! the microphone has dropped.
So I ask my dear boys and girls are you ready for a show!
Little did you know. The ringmaster has you on tight ropes.
He who releases the untamed beast becomes the false heroine for all to see.
He becomes an instrument for the whole world too see.
Little did he know his act is scripted and made to be seen.
What if I told you you’re on stage and your role has yet to be played?
because in a way we’re all in this show.
Let it be a freakshow.
Pendulum
My time is near and dear
Pendulum why do you have to cease?
Eternity becomes life’s greatest mystery.
Have I reached insanity, maybe so.
Cognizance becomes unraveling,
tormented by the ticking clocks.
The pendulum swings. Its momentum,
nothing, but a mere reminder, even infinity can cease.
This bittersweet rotation
There isn’t salvation in a thread
Only self tragedy.
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