From the Studio to the Stage

By: Lesah Evans (?)


In the studio there is complete silence.

There is tranquility and harmony with one’s soul to the music.

There is a struggle for efficiency

and a sense of satisfaction upon completion.

The completed song is then taken to the stage where there is a ridiculous amount of noise.

The artist on stage connects and swaps souls with those in the crowd.

There is a struggle to the performed and the crowd to not pass out

from the heat and exhaustion from constant movement.

The completed show leaves both the crowd and performed

with a sense of satisfaction and completion.

Is the solution that somebody should say something?

By: A YSA writer


History and the present will prove that while words can be useful tools, they are insufficient for

such a revolution. Is the solution that somebody should do something? Is it that people should

know something? Is knowledge the answer? If that was the case then humanity would have been

out of this bind long ago. As you can see, humanity’s knowledge has been expanding over time,

but the world’s situation has been plunging deeper into this cesspool of crap. So perhaps

knowledge is what is credible for this chaos. if so, it would be knowledge that would undo the


The tangled mind must untangle itself through thought. But since the knowledge and

though must become less, knowing something won’t suffice. Just Be Good!!

Daughter to Father

By: Rosa Malinche


I always needed you.

I still need you.

My heart hurts when I see a daughter and father

the pain is still there

it lingers

you have had a painful past

couldn’t it have been motivation to not hurt me?

Your muneca, tu negrita

I love you daddy

I forgive you daddy

but the pain will still be there

until you return to me

I’ve chased you,

I searched for you

but my love was never enough

I look for you in every man I meet

I’m lost, hurt, confused

but I’ll find you

and I won’t let you go.

From your daughter.

From the Lotus to the Jungle

By: A YSA writer


Dear Jungle,

I love you.

There are many glorious flowers here

With many scents and sizes

But you have made me unique, a thousand petaled mystery

Oh Jungle, Oh Jungle

All the other plants come from the fine rich soil

But you have spawned my grace from the murky depths

of the grueling mud

How amazing you are, oh Jungle

And even among the other lotus brothers and sisters

You have made me my own brand

I am forever grateful

Oh great Mother/Father Jungle

When my time is up

I return to you

Really, I am nothing

but an extension of you

We all are.

From the Canvas to the Paint

By: Laura


The canvas is blank

It is silent

But when the paint comes

the canvas speaks.

The paint pours emotion

It pours feelings like wonder and distress

It screams to be looked at.

The canvas and the paint work together.

The canvas cannot speak on its own

nor can the paint.

Together they create a microphone

to be heard by the world.