Creative | Posted by Tesneem A on 06/3/2011

My Anthem

I won’t follow your conventions; I’ll lead my own way,

And I will refuse to listen to those that say nay,

I’ll speak my mind and do whatever I like,

Whether you think I am wrong or right,

For who are you to judge me or the things I do,

When you have barely spoken to me for a second or two?

I’ll welcome your friendship with open arms,

Yes I’m kind and cool, don’t be alarmed!

But the day you treat me like dirt on the floor,

You’ll sling your hook, and there’s the door!

I am a person of value and high esteem,

No matter how anyone else tries to make me seem.

Bash me and bruise me if you dare,

I’ll still trust my convictions sans any …

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Feminism | Posted by Annie T on 03/12/2011

Saturday Vids: “This Is For You”

These three young men were National Youth Poetry Slam finalists. Their willingness to stand up for women is inspiring.

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Creative | Posted by Emily B on 11/24/2010

Excerpt from a Fairytale

Girls should have exoskeletons, he told her.

Their ribs could be can openers.
My parents never touched each other enough, she said.

He traced her stomach like a coloring book, stopping

And starting to a thousand imaginary traffic lights.

“Happiness is a cliché,” he told her.

“I want to feel in black and white,” she said.

She wanted her heart to print receipts.
Their menus rest on the table like slain birds.

She garnished her soul like it was a thing to be consumed.

Every human being is waiting, she said,

At the bus stop of someone else’s

soul. wanting to be taken to Paradise.
So stop waiting, he said.

He imagined her soul bobbing away, like a balloon.

She wanted to kill him and press him into the

dictionary …

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Creative | Posted by Emily B on 11/19/2010

Faster Tonight

Girls always believe in

things told in whispers. And the

circuits connecting tangential fields of

stars and fingertips holed

in alphabets slip across rained in minds in a circumcision

of pleasure.
I’ve invented you, carved you out of traffic lights

to become beautiful–what kills me is the way birds always

fly south, down, and the way their beaks preclude

the possibility of kissing.

I’ve invented the colors underneath your clothes and

the things you could say under street lamps, erased a thousand illuminated mosquitos

But this isn’t a drawing class and the symmetry of sidewalks

is sketched to be beautiful only to insects.

Let’s say the stars are in your eyes, because

beauty is always imagined, and the lights are too

dim by the mattress anyway. Let’s say the moon …

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Creative | Posted by Jayna J on 06/30/2010


Oh, how I wish to
be in a fraternity.
How grand it seems;
basking in the glow of
boyish camaraderie.
Alas! Tis’ the stuff of dreams-
never meant for a girl
like Me.

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