The Shaman 12-13

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The Shaman Staff

Co-Editors

Moubin Ghafoory and DelRay Sims

Readers

Advisor

Lori Colasuonno

Policy

The Shaman is a literary magazine made for students of Gar-Field High School. All

students in grades 9-12 are invited to submit their literary and visual pieces for

consideration. The Shaman staff reserves the right to edit submissions upon acceptance

for publication. Authors and artists retain copyright of printed submissions; authors

grant The Shaman the right to print submissions selected by the editorial staff. The

opinions expressed within are not necessarily in accordance with the views of the staff,

advisors, school, or school board.

Colophon

The Shaman 2012-2013 was created using Microsoft Publisher and printed by Staples.

The titles were set in Georgia and the text was set in Lucida Bright. The Shaman online

magazine was published using Issuu.com. The digital copy can be found at the Gar-Field

High School website (http://www.gar-field.org).

Special Thanks

Thank you to Mr. Bixby, Mrs. Cavalier, and Mr. Payne for supporting creative writing.

Cover Art

“Trees” by Joshua Mainey

Alanna Hilton

Cambria Perry

Colleen Kimble

Dejuante’ Pittman

Estefany Perez

Gabrielle Turner

Hamaial (Miles)

Farook

Isis Rubio

Jenna Klages

Joshua Mainey

Macayla Chapman

MacKenzie Balm

Madison Miller

Mary Jo (MJ) Kimble

Nancy Zhou

Samantha McManus

Tamera McRae

Tiffanie Dzietror

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Words

Algebra by Cambria Perry...................................................... 6

A Study in “-tion” by Sadiyah Faruk.................................... 9

Blood Suckin’ by Hamaial (Miles) Farook........................... 10

The Circus by Micayla Chapman.......................................... 11

The Death of My Best Friends by Gabrielle Turner……... 12

Essential Thinker by Carlos Flores…………………………. 13

Frank, the Painter by Dejuante’ Pittman-King................... 15

Fly to the Past Paper Airplanes by Moubin Ghafoory….. 16

Honesty by DelRay Sims...................................................... 18

“I always need to escape” by Mary Jo (MJ) Kimble........... 19

“I am following my dreams” by Mohammad Khan........... 20

I’m a Fool by Shakeem Copeland......................................... 20

“I wanted to write a poem” by Ayana Thomas…………... 21

My Mind is Space by Micayla Chapman.............................. 22

“Oh, Mother” by DelRay Sims............................................... 23

Pretend Us by Moubin Ghafoory.......................................... 24

Prowling: Part 1 (Prey) by DelRay Sims............................... 27

Prowling: Part 2 (Predator) by DelRay Sims....................... 27

The Roaring 20s by Cambria Perry...................................... 28

School Cafeteria by Mary Jo (MJ) Kimble............................ 29

Strange Place by Carlos Flores.............................................. 30

Shattered Glass by Klara Farren........................................... 32

Your Ghost by Sadiyah Faruk............................................... 35

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Images

Reflection by Bianca Nunez.................................................. 5

His Look by Dejuante’ Pittman-King................................... 7

Looking at Him by Dejaunte’ Pittman-King....................... 8

Sydney by Gabrielle Turner................................................... 10

The Jungle by Gabrielle Turner............................................ 11

Jack and Rowenstorm by Jazmin Todd.............................. 12

Things Forgotten, Collecting Dust by Isis Rubio.............. 14

Canon of the Wind by Jazmin Todd.................................... 15

Your Eyes by Tamera McRae................................................. 17

Reflection of 1,000 Years by Jazmin Todd........................ 19

Judas by Tamera McRae......................................................... 22

She Felt Loved by Dejuante’ Pittman-King......................... 23

Childish Dreams by Bianca Nunez....................................... 25

Serious? Why? So… by Tamera McRae................................ 26

Quoth the Raven by Mary Jo (MJ) Kimble........................... 26

A Romantic Place by Julio Santamaria Cruz...................... 29

A Walk by Claudia Perez........................................................ 31

From the Flood of Creativity by Joshua Mainey................ 34

The King of Pop by Mary Jo (MJ) Kimble............................ 35

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Reflection by Bianca Nunez

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Algebra by Cambria Perry

You’re not a genius, a smarty or a wunderkind Feels like you’re stuck in a prison doing hard time For a crime that, you swear, you didn’t commit But now that you think about it, you wish you did

You’re not an idiot, a dunce or a fool But you’d rather be anywhere other than school

I see you sitting in class With that look on your face Like you don’t understand Like you feel out of place

Maybe you should give up And try again next year But the teacher says “Tough luck, Kid, you’re staying in here”

They say every shot you don’t take You’ll miss 100% of the time What a difference a day makes So you gotta make up your mind

What are you gonna do? Take time to study at home alone Without distractions without earphones I know it’s hard to get over the humiliation But the shame will diminish if you just ask the question

“What is Three X squared times negative five?” Keep ‘em coming and maybe you’ll get out of here alive

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His Look by Dejuante’ Pittman-King

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Looking at Him by Dejuante’ Pittman-King

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A Study in “-tion” by Sadiyah Faruk

The integrity of the Muslim nation Lost in its preservation Has permeated with condemnation The decisions faced by our stagnation

We believe that our creation Aids us in our condemnation Of all that betrays our station On the validity of our bifurcation

Thought we deny absolution For we are no fools of fruition Understanding comes to civilization Through divine interpretation

Do not kid yourself under the assumption That we are filled with desperation History is filled with correlation There need not be a faction

In summation, Understand your declaration Before condemning yourself to criminalization

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Sydney by Gabrielle Turner

Blood Suckin’ by Miles Farook

Blood suckin' love conflict I can’t have enough— oh, I'm like an addict All my thoughts are stored in the attic We touch I feel a rush Wait, I don't know what’s in store for us The future can be mysterious Is there anymore "us" How can you be pleased? Tell me there are a million stars in the sky I'll tell you which one shines brightest I'll do so much for you but it doesn't affect you in the slightest I’m floating away I'm the lightest

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The Circus by Micayla Chapman

My dear my dear Will you lend me your ear? I want a little smile too To know you have a clue She is gone I know But let's put on a show! With clowns, and horns To silence the scorns With lions and ladies To silence the cries of the babies The child was not living again I hope God will send A child for you That really cries and makes poo My dear stop crying! Look at the elephants flying! Laugh my dear! Look at that man's ear! For, my dear, laughing, Will always be better than crying.

The Jungle by Gabrielle Turner

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Jack and Rowenstorm

by Jazmin Todd

The Death of My Best Friend by Gabrielle Turner

Dear Diary,

Just yesterday another best friend of mine died, again. This is my third best friend in the past four years. He was a really loyal best friend, too. We told each other our secrets and he didn’t even tell my mom when I stole some chocolate cake out of the fridge. He never really did talk much anyways though. My first ever best friend committed suicide after I had known him about seven months. I just found him lying there on the floor. He didn’t tell me a thing. I didn’t know he was even unhappy. My second best friend I knew for about a year, he died from eating too much. I would say it’s my fault because I fed it all to him but my mom says it’s okay, as long as I don’t do it again. But, this best friend I knew for over two years. We have been through a lot! I think I’m going to miss him the most. We ate together and he slept right next to me every night. But, I’m only eleven right now, so I’ll have a lot more best friends in the future. In fact, my mom said after we bury this one we can go buy a new one at the pet store. I think I’m going to name this guy Bubbles because of all the cute little bubbles they make when they swim underwater. I can’t wait for my new best friend…

the goldfish.

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Essential Thinker by Carlos Flores

Too close to death From being too creative, Innovative speaker The speech giver of the native, Wise man repeated it verbatim Now they hate him, Unafraid of labels In a society fixated on its stability, Upholding their system That’s slow deteriorating, You can try to contain a ball of chaos. After constantly lying to your people But, what must be heard will be told By a man that represents Nothing but the truth

Truth is what? What are these words I write? The origin of religion, What is right? If there were no wrong And no dark, would there be light? Why do humans conform?

To our eyes, Why does the sun appear bright? Why is there such a thing as “The Norm”? If there was no day; would there be night? The duality of it all leaves me in amazement. Unity in love and let that be my statement.

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Things Forgotten, Collecting Dust by Isis Rubio

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Frank, the Painter by Dejuante Pittman-King

Frank, the Painter, was not like any other painter I had ever met. The word eccentric was too light for a person like him. I had heard about his wonderful work from a friend, and so I had hired him. I was not ready for this.

Every day, he dressed differently. One day, he looked like a woman, and a very convincing one at that. The next, a busy, tired old man, then he was a dog…so strange. He told me he was waiting for his inspiration.

Every day, he’d get up (since he decided to stay with me to further study his “canvas,” which was my kitchen wall) and sit on my floor and stare at the wall. It was one afternoon that I had come home from shopping.

By then, I had gotten used to his odd, artistic ways. He greeted me as usual not turning from the hall. I started to do laundry, and about an hour later, I heard him exclaim in victory. I walked upstairs to see the makings of a beautiful masterpiece on my wall. The air smelled sweet and citrusy.

He turned from his work to happily smile at me, and licked the brush, which was covered in creamy, yellow paint. That’s when I realized what he was using.

On my counter sat a half-empty, now melted, container of lemon sorbet.

Canon of the Wind by Jazmin Todd

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Fly to the Past Paper Airplanes by Moubin Ghafoory

This is not an airplane, This is closure.

It’s not a love letter, Because just like wind,

It has to come to the right place, At the right time.

Unfortunately, the wind’s long passed for us, But maybe some can return,

Carried under this plane’s wings, And glide back to you.

In the autumn of my senior year, I’m struggling to get a job so I can save up for college. For so many months, I’ve been working, maybe to put myself in the right position, so maybe I can head towards success. Maybe.

I meet you in a parking lot in front of your rich dad’s business. I hold an application, and my hands drench sweat along its edges.

You smile, take it from my hands, and tear it in half. You tell me that you don’t want me to be near you, so you’ll tell your daddy not to hire me.

“I heard you had an awesome summer, with lots of fun and plenty of lovers through all the humid nights,” I say. We sit on the hoods of our cars, facing each other on the parking spots closest to the road. My car is an old barf green Accord, covered with a coast of dust.

You sit cross legged on a polished, Devil red BMW. The polish makes it shine bright against the streetlights that are blinking on one by one as the chill of evening begins to set in. Perhaps it waits to take you on another joy ride through Life.

You listen as I talk about your summer, and then say, “Sure,” shrugging your shoulders.

It grows darker, and the cars that pass beside us direct their bright lights toward you. Each car that passes emanates a flash of light off your skin, and every sudden flash changes you completely.

First you’re short, pale skinned, with curly brown hair and silvery eyes.

“You seem different, Claire,” I say, gazing at you with bright eyes.

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Another flash, and now you are tall, still pale, with long red hair, and blue-green eyes. You sit with a fragile, uncertain look, as though you’re young and naive.

“Why do you flash like that, Kat-” Another car passes, and a great flash burns my eyes.

I look again, and you sit with a more mature, dignified look, as though you were older, wiser, and with more care.

“Have you seen yourself, lately Aman-” Another eye-scorching flash.

I no longer have a brightness in my eyes. I stand up off the hood of my car, over you.

Then I see your face. You smile deviously, as if you know something about me that I never have. I’m attracted, curious, intrigued by that smile across your lips, and it kills me.

“You’ve changed,” You say to me.

“Sure,” I reply, “But have you?”

Your Eyes by Tamera McRae

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Honesty by Delray Sims

I would apologize to anyone that was hurt in the past, But honesty is honesty, never to come last, Friend or foe, I’ll tell you like it’s my task, There’s no hidden meaning, broken mask, If you’re ignorant, the words will not be coated, Trust is in my gun, locked and loaded, Lies overrated. But truth gets traded. Lucky my message made it. The scripture not faded. Haters, the term is outdated. If you’re slow, it’s lag. If you’re low, that’s sad. You don’t like it, I’m glad. My mouth is a warrior and my speech is the dagger. I tell you, “Your swag is less than half of my swagger.” Truthfully you’re asleep and I’m on top of the ladder. Dancing on the gutters, I hear you mutter. No, I didn’t stutter. Word to your mother. You’re falling up inclines. So, don’t cross this line.

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“I always need to escape” by MJ Kimble

I always need to escape from reality and I always do. But, every time I escape to another world, I can see the demon that lives inside of me. It does nothing but give me a devilish glare. Then, it smirks

It always says, “You can’t escape from me, you stupid girl! I am you.”

Even when I come back to reality, it still follows me. The demon within me follows me like my shadow. No matter where I go, it follows. With an evil chuckle, it then said, “You think you can still escape from me. You can’t run from me. I’m you. Even if you manage to dodge me once, I’ll still get you in the end.”

I do know that it is a part of me, but I can’t let it drag me to my personal Hell.

Reflection

of 1,000 Years

by Jazmin Todd

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“I am following my dreams” by Mohammad Khan

I am following my dreams Just not taking the right steps to succeed It sucks not knowing exactly what you need. What I need is the need to want it as bad as I breathe. My plan B is to look back at plan A Plan A is an idea I had since last May But, the plan fades, and I’ve been second guessin’ these past days I learn that dreams burn and get dumped in ashtrays

I’m a Fool by Shakeem Copeland

I told her if she was a drug I would be high everyday Our love is real, I’m never fake What else can I say Though I’m just a fool loving you is no mistake She told me never leave her I said girl don’t be a rake Sike, nah, I’m just playin’, cool it out You just thinkin’ wrong If lovin’ you ain’t right, I got my left blinker on But, then again You know say love is blind Well, if it’s blind, Our love’s a wonder like Stevie in his prime And my boy’s like “Don’t do it, she is such a waste of time.” Man, she worth every second that it took to make this rhyme Thinkin’ ‘bout her with no makeup on And she still a dime So, I guess that’s why I say I got money on my mind And they say, “You say that now, but you gonna regret The outcome.” You gone be stuck in the middle like Malcom Well, if that happen, then I must admit I’m wrong But, for now, I’ll be a fool and that’s the end of my song.

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“I wanted to write a poem” by Ayana Thomas

I wanted to write a poem, but I don’t know how to. I always Thought poems were supposed to Rhyme so when I think all that Comes to mind is the word “zoo”

I know my poem sounds funny But, this the only way I could Think of to control my anger, Clear my mind and express myself

Yeah, my last stanza ain’t rhyme But, I couldn’t think of any words That flow with “clear my mind” So, I’m gonna take my time And clear my mind.

Clear my mind of all this Negativity, sadness, and frustration I honestly feel like my family is A broken nation…

They fuss and they fight like it’s the Civil War It makes me want to go in my Room, blast my music and lock my door.

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My Mind is Space by Micayla Chapman

The night The black hole The dead stars Fill me up Dirty Cheap Filth Yet endless wonder As if those dead stars Are suns Committing sins of deceit How lovely those dead stars look They kiss me to sleep Tuck me in Like a child before Christmas I wait for them to turn To change To be light But they don't They stay dead They stay broken Like my mind

Judas by Tamera McRae

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“Oh, Mother” by DelRay Sims

Oh, Mother, Oh, Mother, through the torment you give, Our hearts never rebel against you. The dark star brightens To a blazing sun of emotion. You will never be alone maternal Tree of life. We stand. Our eyes glare and powers united, Nothing stands against. For you hath taught the light Of our father who resides in heaven, and our father Who resides in the ghettos Keep faith, for when our fruit grows, the seeds will rest By you. The love for you is as a knife to a sheath, Uncovered from the world, susceptible, rusty. Keep in Faith, keep in heart, keep in health.

She Felt Loved

by Dejuante’ Pittman-King

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Pretend Us by Moubin Ghafoory

Rain drops fall, wetting the rooftop, and make puddles reflecting the sky, as dark, gray clouds pass up above. It’s a humid day.

Jones sweats through trench coat, heat flaring into his bones, even on a wet day like this. Droplets trek across the glasses of his binoculars as he peers through them at the building across the street. A single apartment window shines with light; the hot steam of a shower fogs up the glass from inside. Jones smiles and knows it’s his dirty, little mark. I’m gonna enjoy this case, he thinks.

A voice asks from behind, “You think you should stop bein' a peepin’-tom, Jones?”

Jones leaves his gaze through the binoculars and turns to see Arthur, gawking at him while standing in the middle of large puddle.

“‘Stop bein' a peepin’-tom, Jones,’” He replies, leaving his tongue on the bottom of his mouth to mock Arthur’s voice, “my name’s Tom Jones, moron! Not really the best expression to use.”

Still gaping at him, Arthur silently waits a moment, then shrugs. “So? You’re ‘bein a peepin’-tom, Jones. It ain’t right to watch a lady…”

“Why don’t you go play in your puddles and let me see a set o’ bazoongas!”

“He seems more like a gentleman than a perv, unlike you,” Says another voice.

Arthur and Jones look, and see a young, Latin woman climb up from the rooftop ladder, the straps of her overalls hang off the sides of her hips, and her white sleeveless shirt revealing a toned body; Rough, tough, but with an earthy beauty, like a tropical island.

“Wouldn’t say that, dollface. See, we’re private eyes…” She raises a hand before Jones can continue.

“Stop talkin’, give me all your cash… or your gentleman-friend here gets it,” the girl slips a knife from her pocket and points it at Arthur’s ribs. His mouth hangs open and his eyes widen with surprise.

“Eh, he don’t deserve the trouble, cat,” Jones says.

“Y-yeah, I sure don’t. I just wanna go home and get supper…” Arthur starts to tear up.

“Artie! Don’t cry! You’ll go home and get supper! See, just watch here.” BANG! Jones’ gun smokes from a barrel pointing at the beauty’s forehead. She drops to the floor, still, lifeless. Arthur stops crying, looks down, scratches his head, confused.

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Then the rain stops. Still humid, the sun comes out from the dark clouds and shines through the treehouse window. The kids break character, finishing their act; the Latin girl gets up, straps on her overalls and wipes the dust off her legs; Tom Jones holsters his index-thumb finger gun and sits back against the windowsill, pulling out a rolled up, pulp-paper magazine from his back pocket, opening it up and frowning; Arthur finds his bottle of coke off the floor and takes a gulp.

“Got another story in there we can act out?” He asks Jones.

Jones looks up from the magazine at the both of them. “I think I got something,” He looks at the Latin girl, “Grace, your pop want you get home early?”

The girl Grace shrugs. “It’s summer, I got nothing but time,” She says.

“Heh, so do we!” Arthur adds.

“Yup,” Jones agrees with a smile.

“I want to be a detective too this time! I hate ‘bein the damsel or the thief!” Grace complains.

“Well, what do you want me to do? The guys writing this stuff don’t make any girls detectives!” Jones says.

“Oh, come on, Tommy. We can all be detectives together!” Arthur says, with a thankful nudge from Grace.

“Fine, let’s pretend that…”

Childish Dreams

by Bianca Nunez

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Quoth the Raven

by Mary Jo (MJ)

Kimble

Serious? Why? So…

by Tamera McRae

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Prowling: Part 1 (Prey) by DelRay Sims

A light, a familiar light

The gleam from your eyes

Ever hungry, ever parched

Stalking the innocent, to relieve some of the pain.

Your paw clacks, ever so softly

I hate you, I fear you, but I envy you

Though you will live in the inevitable cycle

You can sleep soundly, walk freely, and live unafraid

Unlike I

I see the golden coins through the dark leaves

Shining, with a small blade in each, to cut our spirits

Before our flesh

Prowling: Part 2 (Predator) by DelRay Sims

Hello, my meal, have you been waiting?

Look at you, so meek and confused

Cut off from your herd, alone, in my darkness

You’re so young, so plump, so tender, mmm

Once a prideful prince, now a thief’s gourmet

I might have you let you pass me by

If my lips weren’t salted and my belly not a tundra

So, fill me, young buck, fill me with unleavened flesh,

Fill me with the heart’s nectar

Fill me… for the moment.

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The Roaring 20s by Cambria Perry

Greta Garbo, Clara Bow Painted lips like cupid’s arrow Got Bette Davis eyes? Love has taken you by surprise

A young and fast Miss Jean Harlow Painted lips like cupid’s arrow Claudette Colbert French unlike fries Love has taken you by surprise

Hey, it’s little Shirley Temple Painted lips like cupid’s arrow Norma Shearer, me oh my Love has taken you by surprise

Look! It’s Rudolph Valentino Painted lips like cupid’s arrow Mae West, surely a prize Love has taken you by surprise

You’re just a teenager You have the remainder Of your life to sacrifice But now’s not the time

Follow your dreams You’re only nineteen And you know it’s kinda funny You’re not living in the roaring 20s

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School Cafeteria by Mary Jo (MJ) Kimble

The most social location in the entire school. Students not only go to eat, but to talk. They talk about their days and nights, their weeks and weekends, Or someone or themselves. Their voices will always fill the entire cafeteria as if their Voices were water, filling up a glass cup. As for me, the silent would only fee lost. I’d feel as if I didn’t belong there. There have been some strong forces that brought me Back to the cafeteria, but I would always refuse. I’ve never wanted to sense the isolating feeling that I’ve always Felt while in there. But at the same time, I want to open up to everyone. If I go to the cafeteria more often, then I might be Walking down the road to the city of confidence. I just have to decide when to take that first step.

A Romantic Place by Julio Santamaria Cruz

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Strange Place by Carlos Flores

Gay or straight, Gender and race, Fat and tall, Skinny and small,

Just a few labels Used in this strange place. A place where Human beings have become Broken down robots Being picked up by a machine To drop them off At their slave labor workshop.

Cars and clothes, Money and hoes, Stars and shows, Honey and gold,

Just a few material things Desired in this strange place, A place where your life plan Is sort of predetermined,

I mean, you go to church, Go to school, go to college, Get a job, and obey all their rules. A very small portion of happiness Is received, you fools.

Guns and drugs, War and time, Oil and religion, Water and power,

Just a few things That we fight over in this strange place. A place where The problem of starvation is never solved. A place where The masses are controlled by fear, And fear when they hear, The time for true change is near.

What do I do? What do I do? How do I live? How do I live?

I can only try and forgive Them of their sins, An idea that formulated From loose ends, Where evil doers never made amends

Where do I go? Who do I tell? How can I live? How can I love?

The more and more I go on The more emotions I don’t show. I’ve become so numb. Victories so far are none, Old is never We stay young Forever we stay as one.

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A Walk by Claudia Perez

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Shattered Glass by Klara Farren

Shattered glass, scattered glass. That’s what they are made of, Memories I mean.

Pages flip by faster and faster, Clocks speed up their hands. During this, the glass Structures, fragile And breathless, Break.

Explosions of tiny pieces Fly everywhere. When Caught by the magnificent White, bright, light, Rainbows glow.

The shards of glass, scatter To the ground. New mysteries Are to be found.

You sort through these shards, Many are in different shapes And sizes. Many years Of not looking at these structures, they seem So new.

Many of these shards you Pick, thick or thin, Sometimes draw Blood.

Each of these shards contain Special events of your Long ago.

Many times they hurt, Your wish to go Back Can never be fulfilled.

These structures, once tall and grand, But dust, and crumbs Lived there Darkly.

However now, these structures Collapsed, white light Shines on them, Burning away Dust. The images of long ago flash by You clearly, sharply, Crisp as an Apple.

These flashes flood over, Blocking reality, You let them Happen.

You enjoy looking back at The moments you were Smiling like the sun, Laughing like The sounds Of bells.

The roaring waves calling you back To the time you were little, Spending time, having fun With your best Friends.

Running around, sand-filled Suits, crashing into the Wild waves of the Florida sands.

The water, hugging you, Slamming into you with Joy.

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Salt water, shooting up Your nostrils, filling Your mouth with Kisses.

Your best friend rides The waves with You, feeling The ocean Like you.

These shards of glass Will never leave Your mind.

Forever will they stay As memory, comfort, And as pain. Tears trickle Down.

These shards make you happy, They will also make your Heart rip open, spilling out Blood.

You love these shards, You let them repeat in your mind,

And on the way, you Find those shards Long forgotten By time.

Oh, how you love those shards.

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From the Flood of Creativity by Joshua

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Your Ghost by Sadiyah Faruk

Author’s Note: For anyone who has ever lost someone.

I keep the music playing To beat back the silence Because, without your voice In the background I find it hard To concentrate on anything Except the Empty Space Around me

As though Even in your passing The remnants Of your presence Still linger

Though not a solid Substantial fullness More of an intangible Essence Floating around me Sucking in All the

Sound.

The King of Pop

by Mary Jo (MJ)

Kimble

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