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Poem: Cold

Poem: Cold

“people say real…” he stops, searching for a word, “real interesting things about you, you know that?” when he hesitates before saying "interesting" I bite back a scoff and leave myself to wonder what baggage my name carries when people say it like venom spilling from...

Poem Short Story: The gemini’s dump truck rumble 

Poem Short Story: The gemini’s dump truck rumble 

The thunderous whirring of a thousand metals Clacking into a chunky fluid sphere Giant abominations of crusted shards emanating a dusky glow Jagged eyes glare, squinting  Close her eyes — Look down — a tire burn burned millimeters from her open-toed flip flops lashes...

Drabbles of Poetry: Personal Interests

Drabbles of Poetry: Personal Interests

Afropunk Creative power punches through in blues funk rock disco 'n' hip-hop Passion bleeds through the lyrics Jazz and gospel blues singing through the rain uplifted voices, beats soar above the canopy and waving arms Afro.punK   Book burnings sheets of music...

Analysis of ’60s counterculture: The division of generations

Analysis of ’60s counterculture: The division of generations

The widespread superficiality through social media has become mainstream through modern society as technology becomes increasingly available and capable. Today’s countercultures and subcultures are modeled with similar ideology towards past movements as it is founded...

Baseball, Dad and Me

Baseball, Dad and Me

When I was born, Dad’s nickname for me was “The Bambino” because I was a chubby baby.  It was also one of Babe Ruth’s nicknames. So from the very beginning, my Dad, baseball, and I have been laced together. When I was 4 years old, my father taught me how to bat,...