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Over The Edge

Coming Home

Posted by on Mar 28, 2017 in Poetry | 0 comments

Sarah Green | Contributor She sinks further Into the abyss. No chance of return. She floats Further from reality. Until she sees him. She sees his face, His smile, The way he laughs. She sees the way He looks at her. Like she is the only one He will ever want. She comes back To reality, Into his arms. She is safe. She is...

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Contained Beasts

Posted by on Feb 13, 2017 in Culture, Poetry | 0 comments

Sam Wall | News Editor dependent elephants bred in zoos defying odds placed before their mouths and dark, acrid cries devoured by curious onlookers   defeat and darkness look like pity looks like failure looks like trying again looks like bugs in the system look like defeat   heartbreak and animals look look like animals look animalistic like wild animals look secret looks animal   take pictures because pictures don’t have...

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Medicine, for Mom

Posted by on Feb 13, 2017 in Culture, Poetry | 0 comments

Sam Wall | News Editor Mother, mother I am drowning I can’t pick it up I can’t start again give me more medicine   K-po 2: Cee, Cee, Cee, Gee, Gee, Gee, Aim, Aim, efF, efF.   Sometimes I know you like you’d never met me didn’t know I wasn’t relevant, no second chance I can’t just go home   Doon doon doom boom boom boon   Daughter, daughter tell me one day of all the things I can’t be without the medicine   Oooooo, ooooo, may-dah-sen, meh-de-sin....

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Freedom

Posted by on Feb 13, 2017 in Culture, Poetry | 0 comments

Tierney Watkinson | Team Member I watch as the sun sinks into hills beyond and the sky slowly changes from blue to a kaleidoscope of scarlets and violets and yellows and then starts to fade and deepens to ebony—the rich and deep black of night. Then stars appear, sparkling softly, ever singing their hushed song and the moon slowly rises up to join them casting eerie yet beautiful light over the silent shapes of trees and hills, and sleeping animals and houses. I watch, and envy the stars and the moon, because they are free, and I can never truly be...

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Changes

Posted by on Jan 26, 2017 in Arts, Poetry | 0 comments

Sarah Green| Contributor The air is crisp As he walks through the clearing. It’s too late. No one can stop him. His strides show purpose. He moves towards the group Standing clustered around the fire. A few faces turn As he walks towards the smallest figure. She stands slightly apart. Obviously waiting for him. He draws a breath. This is it. When she sees him, Her amber eyes light up. For a moment, He falters. Disarmed by her beauty. But it’s too late to change his mind. He takes a step forward, Clears his throat, And changes his life...

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