In this special episode of Creative Guts, co-hosts Laura Harper Lake and Angie Lane are live at Exeter High School for the annual Slam Free and Fly poetry event! This was a powerful evening of original poetry from freshmen students participating in the Arts in Action project, a school to community partnership supported and funded by the New Hampshire State Council on the Arts. In this episode, you’ll hear original poetry from 21 gutsy young people who took to the stage on Valentine's Day to move our hearts and minds with their amazing works. Listen to this episode wherever you listen to podcasts or on our website www.CreativeGutsPodcast.com. Be friends with us on Facebook at www.Facebook.com/CreativeGutsPodcast and Instagram at www.Instagram.com/CreativeGutsPodcast. If you love listening, consider making a donation to Creative Guts! Our budget is tiny, so donations of any size make a big difference. Learn more about us and make a tax deductible donation at www.CreativeGutsPodcast.com.
In this special episode of Creative Guts, co-hosts Laura Harper Lake and Angie Lane are live at Exeter High School for the annual Slam Free and Fly poetry event! This was a powerful evening of original poetry from freshmen students participating in the Arts in Action project, a school to community partnership supported and funded by the New Hampshire State Council on the Arts.
In this episode, you’ll hear original poetry from 21 gutsy young people who took to the stage on Valentine's Day to move our hearts and minds with their amazing works.
Listen to this episode wherever you listen to podcasts or on our website www.CreativeGutsPodcast.com. Be friends with us on Facebook at www.Facebook.com/CreativeGutsPodcast and Instagram at www.Instagram.com/CreativeGutsPodcast.
If you love listening, consider making a donation to Creative Guts! Our budget is tiny, so donations of any size make a big difference. Learn more about us and make a tax deductible donation at www.CreativeGutsPodcast.com.
[INTRODUCTION]
[0:00:00] LHL: I'm Laura Harper Lake.
[0:00:01] AL: I'm Angie Lane.
[0:00:02] LHL & AL: And you're listening to Creative Guts.
[0:00:18] LHL: My name is Laura Harper Lake. I am the chair, co-founder and co-host of Creative Guts. If you're not familiar with Creative Guts, we're a local nonprofit with a mission of awakening creativity within people of all ages by creating connection, collaboration and opportunities for creatives to show us their creative guts. Our signature program is the Creative Guts Podcast. And tonight's event will be recorded and turned into an episode on the show. We also host a wide array of community events and publish zines filled with art and writing from creatives in NH and beyond.
[0:00:55] AL: And I'm Angie Lane. I am the Board of Directors for Creative Guts and, of course, an occasional co-host on the podcast. I'm also the Executive Director of Red River Theaters, which is a nonprofit independent cinema in Concord, New Hampshire that offers a diverse program of newly released films, classic films, film discussions, family events and cult favorites. Storytelling, conversation and civic engagement are at the heart of what makes Red River so important to the New Hampshire cultural scene. I am so excited to be here tonight to appreciate the stories of these amazing young creatives that will take the stage shortly.
[0:01:34] LHL: Angie and I are thrilled to be your MC's for tonight's event. The work you're about to hear will come from the Freshman Class Arts and Action Project, which is supported and funded by the New Hampshire State Council on the Arts. Creative Guts is incredibly appreciative of our ongoing partnership with Exeter High School. This will be our third year MCing this amazing event. And we've also hosted many other live interviews on this very stage. You can go listen to those episodes and the one we're recording tonight at creativegutspodcast.com or wherever you get your podcasts.
[0:02:09] AL: Tonight's student presenters are sharing poetry from the first unit of the Arts in Action project from Mr. Magliozzi and Mrs. Peterson's classes. These recitations represent some classroom favorites as well as some reciters returning to the stage from Slam Free or Fly in years past. We'll be asking some rapid-fire questions to these students and we'll dive a little deeper into their creative minds.
[0:02:34] LHL: All right. I think it's just about time to get started. I wanted to say right before we jump in, though, we apologize in advance if we mispronounce anyone's names. And feel free to correct us. We are pleased to introduce the first poet, Evelyn Morse, reciting The Person They Want Me To Write.
[0:03:01] EM: Poems are like young girls told by their dreams that they wish to be models. Always too fragile to say what they mean straight out. Always criticized, always critiqued. Too short, too wide, more metaphors. They take my poem, shave her down. And with every fallen follicle falls her uniqueness, her personality, her whimsy. They pull a wig of overanalyzed hair onto my poem's barren skull. They paint a face of symmetry onto her perfectly imperfect features. They wash away my words and paint her lips with conjecture. Flashing lights, snapping cameras, screaming directors, weeping specimens. They walk her down the stage, a puppet stitched from their expectations. They show her to the world not as herself but as the poem they want me to write. But before they make her something she is not, I will ink her skin with my words, I will carve my message into bone, I will pierce my voice into her ears and I will scream, "There is no hidden message." And I mean it.
[0:04:17] LHL: Thank you. If you'd like to have a seat. That was beautiful. It is so hard to be the first one to go at an event like this. And you performed beautifully. That was such a powerful piece.
[0:04:28] AL: No. I loved it. I couldn't stop listening. It's kind of hard to close your ears, I guess. But no, it was beautiful and it was very powerful. Thank you. All right. We've got poet number two. Please welcome to the stage Maeve Roache reciting Tethered to Yesterday.
[0:04:51] MR: People have the saying that all good things must come to an end. I never expected my childhood to be one of them. Now I sit and regret the days that I wish to be older, the days that I never knew I would wish to relive. And sometimes when I'm leaving my house and I glance over at the garage filled with what my dad calls junk, for he never considered his trash somebody's treasure. And I think back to my earlier years of when these items would sparkle brand-new with a capacity that once began empty but soon became filled with the memories of the children on Chelsea Way. The bike rides, wheels spinning with delight racing through sun-drenched streets. Sleds gliding down the hills reminding me of winters wrapped in warmth not longing for summer's glow. Water guns bursting with happiness and summers filled with carefree days where the thought of school was a distant echo fading away.
As I step out of the garage, memories flood back to me. Kids darting like fireflies under the moonlight no matter the season, our joy lit up the nights. Warm summer evenings, the air thick with cheers and crisp fall nights are playful games resonating through the dusk. Feeling the thrill as spring's first buds peak through the darkness of winter's grasp. Yet I stand here grown up tethered to these fleeting moments, a heart still dancing in the shadows of yesterday. I still sometimes miss playing tag and seek around those two circles. The two cul-de-sacs that were once everything and are now just two circles. Now they stand still, quiet and forgotten, holding the echoes of who we were in the years that slipped by.
Between now and then, none of us noticed, but it all stopped. Whether we grew up, or moved away, or are stuck in our homes, there are no more kids running around at night. And there are no more neighbors losing their temper just because of a few kids. Now there's just the occasional bark of a dog, a lone reminder of the life that once thrived here, or rumble of a trash can echoing in the distance, the world having quieted down after all the years of laughter and play.
In the silence, I still hear their whispers carrying tales of laughter that dance through the years As I walk away, I carry those memories like the flashlights we once carried while running down the moonless streets that now light up the shadows of my heart.
[0:07:01] LHL: That was beautiful. And the theme of nostalgia, I love so much. Even though it's your memories, I feel like we can all relate to that.
[0:07:07] AL: Yeah. I mean, we're on poet number two and it's Valentine's Day. I'm very emotional. That was beautiful.
[0:07:16] LHL: Up next, we have a member of poetry team. We'd like to invite up Molly Kennedy reciting Breaking the Quiet.
[0:07:29] MK: 5:30am, I woke up to the loud sound of my alarm clock beeping. The bright unsettling neon numbers lit up the shadows of my room with a radioactive green glow. The continuous noise pierces my brain as I reach a hand to my side and feel for the snooze button. Then everything is dark once again.
5:45am, the beeping begins for a second time but it's cut abruptly short. This time I force myself to get up. My whole body feels shaky. The floor feels frozen to touch. The house feels silent, almost peaceful, but thoughts flood over my head a thousand times over. Everything feels as if I'm in a haze. I blink sleep from my eye, cold running water splashes my face and trickles down my shirt as I lean over the bathroom sink.
6:05am, my house is quiet yet my head is loud. I've learned to ignore it but I can't dismiss the overwhelming feeling of how heavy my head feels. Millions of thoughts enter in and out but it's impossible to grasp onto one, like a hand outstretched, handfuls of sand, tiny grains. Many thoughts intertwine with its fingers and fall. And as the hand tries to salvage as many as it can, more small pieces of remembrance continue to escape into nothingness, never to be seen again.
6:30am, I can hear the creaking of our wooden stairs as my mom shuffles downstairs and the small opening of closing of cabinet doors that can be heard outside my cracked door. Still quiet my house stays despite the little reminders that life inhabits it. My cat pushes her way in to say her good mornings. Her tail swishes from side to side. Everything feels the same as it always is. This day is no different from all the other days I've had to get up. I go to the same place every day and do pretty much the same thing, yet my anxiety bubbles in my throat like poison and I force myself to swallow.
6:55am, I finished getting ready and begin to pack my bag to leave. Sunlight attempts to peek through my heavy curtains. I go over everything I need in my head over and over again, even though I always find myself forgetting something. I stare at the green enduring numbers on my clock. The cold wood floors send shivers through my body. I'm calculating how many more seconds I can stand in my room before I eventually have to go downstairs. Calculating the hours in which I'll return to the spot once again.
7:05am, I hop in the passenger side door. The 10-minute drive feels like 30. The small murmurs of talk radio is the one thing I force myself to concentrate on as well as the little conversations between my mom and I which are left feeling airy and dry because we're both too tired to talk. And as the car trudges through the snowy road, small snowflakes lay on the windshield but they quickly melt from the impact of the inside heat. My anxiety builds as we approach the school. It's something I'm so used to, something I've always felt. And as I close the car door with a thud and begin to walk up the large pathway to the main entrance, I understand how easy it is to break the quiet.
[0:10:29] LHL: I'm just so in awe of the vulnerability that these young folks are showing on stage right now. And I really applaud you for sharing your work.
[0:10:37] AL: No. I'm so impressed. I don't think I would have had the confidence to or –
[0:10:42] LHL: May you say the guts?
[0:10:43] AL: The guts.
[0:10:44] LHL: The creative guts?
[0:10:46] AL: This is so enjoyable. [inaudible 0:10:48] number three. Thank you. That was beautiful. Now we are going to welcome another member of poetry team, Andrea Tuasuun. And she will be reciting Abstract Love.
[0:11:07] AT: Love is quite an abstract concept. Seeing people mingle about with each other, staring hard eyes at one another without one care in the world. Telling each other sweet nothings while people pass by and stare with disgust, others with sadness. I hate to say that I myself have fallen victim to staring at some couples with that same sadness once or twice in my life. Shouldn't I be more focused with school rather than looking at couples passing by wondering if I could be in their position someday? Shouldn't I focus more on my future rather than two people hopelessly in love with one another? Yeah, I think I should.
But romance isn't the only type of love out there. There's love from the people you care about. Seeing friends walk around malls and parks with each other laughing about stupid jokes or gossiping about drama. Parents and their kids sitting on benches eating ice cream while talking about the fun things they're doing that day. Some stare at these groups with fond hearts thinking of their own friends or families. That's the kind of love that I want to focus on.
The romance we see almost every day isn't even near as powerful, the love friends and family can offer. The soft words of assurance that my friends offer to me whenever I'm down fills me with so much love, it's indescribable. The comfort of my own mother's arms whenever I need a hug makes me feel more than happy inside. Any and every type of love that my friends and family offer is beyond me. But even then, I yearn for love from that one special person.
It's embarrassing to even think about having a lover, and yet I continue to think. I think about the fun little adventures I could take this lover on. I think about the highest of highs we could have and the lowest of lows that follow. I think about everything that I could possibly do if I had a lover of any sort. Again, it's quite the embarrassing thought to think about as a 15-year-old that's only had one real relationship.
Love is such an abstract concept to me. It's a concept I wish I could drown, a concept I wish I could keep away from my very life, a concept I wish I could experience, a concept I wish I never found out about. The way love changes someone is beyond fathomable. The jealousy that spreads throughout their mind when seeing that one person talking with their beloved. The pain that plagues the heart whenever they hear those cursed words, "We're done or we're breaking up." The regret that fills the body whenever they think about all of the things they could have done better. It's amazing how much love can affect someone's mind. It's as if they've been brainwashed and blinded by Cupid himself. And let's face it, perhaps Cupid did brainwash and blind people with love so powerful that it hurts to even face the direction of that one significant person.
Love is such an abstract concept, it's hard to grasp. It's hard to even look in the direction of what love is. Love isn't only holding hands and kissing until you get married. Love isn't only hugging and cuddling while watching some corny movie. Love is making new memories with the people around you. Love is finding out who you are and living to the fullest. Love is going out and exploring. Love is everything and anything you want it to be. People just make it seem like it isn't.
Love is such an abstract concept, but it doesn't have to be. It doesn't have to be so abstract that it's hard to grasp. It doesn't have to be so abstract that it hurts to think about. I never wanted love to be such an abstract concept. I don't think anyone wanted it to be abstract. People just make it look abstract. Let's start over with love. Let's make love everything that we want it to be. Let's make love less abstract and more concrete. Let's make love a concept that people can actually grasp. Let's make love what it should be, what it should always have been, an experience. Thank you.
[0:14:48] AL: Damn, you guys are making me feel like – I'm new to poetry. This is amazing. So impressed. And like Laura said, I love the vulnerability. I think the world needs more of that. Thank you.
[0:15:00] LHL: That was a really earnest and strong performance. It was just so lovely. And especially on today, it was really great to hear. Up next, another member of the poetry team. Gosh, this is like a really popular team. This sounds like a really cool, fun team. We'd like to invite Cowan Dixon reciting Dear Dorian.
[0:15:25] CD: Dear Dorian, even though I haven't found your mother yet, I'm still waiting for you to arrive. You are what makes water move down streams. You may realize in life that you look exactly like me, and that may scare you. I don't know if that's for the good or the bad, but I do know that your first heartbreak will suck He or she will tear you apart into one billion tiny little confetti sheets, but I will build you back together into the party you once were. Number one, never put yourself before others. I want you to remember that, no matter what, I will always put you before them. I want you to look through this world through a rainbow colorful kaleidoscope, because all I see when I look in those eyes are shapes that are congruent to mine. All I see is what I do or did. All I see is my failure.
Number two, treat others the way you want to be treated. The only thing golden here is the gold I steal. I never want to rob you of the same mistakes I made because all of my failure leads to sadness. I want all your failure to lead to success. The only gold I've ever held is the kind that disappears. I never want you to inherit the losses.
Number three, breathe. Breathe. Just breathe. Be there and breathe. Taken this beautiful world or you still can because I once was like you, wide-eyed fearless. But the world will test you. And what you choose to become matters. But if you choose to become the same mistake I was, well, then we'll have a problem. If you choose to be racist, sexist, homophobic, if you decide to treat woman with no respect or treat your mother with no respect, if you forget to love who is loving you, then we will have a problem. And that problem, it's me, like father, like son. Do I make myself clear?
[0:17:33] LHL: Thank you. That was such a strong performance. Really captivating. Well done.
[0:17:38] AL: You guys seem so confident. I don't know if you're faking it. But you're doing a really good job. Very impressive. I like your presentation. And it's very captivating.
[0:17:46] LHL: Yeah. We'd like to ask each of you, how can creativity change the world?
[0:17:53] CD: I like to think creativity can cause like a lot of change in the world. Someone can write something and then it can start like a protest or something.
[0:18:03] AT: I feel like creativity, with what like Cohen said, it can just start movements. So many protests and just movements out in the world have just started from one little stem of creativity. I feel like just making stuff can just change the world in just anyway as a lot of protest and a lot of movements has just started just from that.
[0:18:24] LHL: I love it. Absolutely.
[0:18:25] MK: I think creativity is one of the most important parts in someone making something, creating something. And it really starts a chain reaction between people.
[0:18:34] MR: I also agree with like what Cohen said, how somebody can write a poem or a story that can change someone's perspective on the world and cause them to want to start change.
[0:18:45] LHL: Yeah.
[0:18:46] EM: Well, the most creative people that I know are my siblings. And if my siblings can believe that I can be Beyonce, I cannot imagine what they can do themselves.
[0:18:57] AL: Love that. All right keep that mic. Which of the five senses, touch, sight, hearing, smell and taste is the most closely connected to creativity for you and why?
[0:19:12] EM: I would say hearing, because it's all immersive. And I will totally cry over a sad song.
[0:19:19] LHL: Yeah. We're in that club too.
[0:19:22] MR: Yeah I also agree on hearing. Because, I mean, with creativity, you could get inspiration from like anything, I guess. Or like you just walking on the street, or like listening to a song, or something.
[0:19:35] MK: I would say touch, because in order to make something creative, you need to touch the person's heart and you need to affect them.
[0:19:43] AT: I'd say hearing since a lot of performances, you need to mainly listen to. Songs, poetry performances, plays and stuff like that. Just the way people project their voices and the way they just like penetrate your ears, it's just emotional.
[0:20:01] CD: I always say sound, because I'm a musician. I love sound. I think it doesn't matter what you say. It's how you say it. And that can be really powerful.
[0:20:12] LHL: Absolutely. Yeah, you guys have all demonstrated that today. And again, we're so impressed and thankful that you shared your creative works with us.
[0:20:22] AL: We're getting ready for round two. And I don't know about you, but this is a pretty great way to spend a Friday night and Valentine's Day, no less. We will get right to it. And I have the pleasure of introducing our next poet, Riley Benevides, reciting My Point A.
[0:20:45] RB: My point A. She's my point A because I can pick her out of a crowd no matter what because she's standing so tall above the rest. She's my landmark. My life will have so many adventures in it I'll be overseas for days, months, years, but I can always come back to my landmark. She's my compass, pointing me in the right direction yet never holding me back. Tells me to travel alone. But if I know if I get a little lost, I can always come back to my compass. She is the shield and I am the sword. I will fight my own battles and win my own wars. But I know if I ever need a little extra protection, my shield comes in clutch. We are a team, not the team that gives up after one season, the team that pulls out with wins every single time saying it's easy while dripping sweat from working our asses off. When I fail, I don't get the, "It's okay, baby. You still did great." I get the, "Yeah, you did. That sucks. So what's next?" What's next? You tell me, I say. She answers with a blank stare. There she is again, my shield, not my sword. Once again, I'm off to fight my own battles and win my own wars. She's my point A, she's my mother. Thank you.
[0:22:02] LHL: That just pulled at my heartstrings so much. Okay.
[0:22:09] AL: Yeah, I was wondering if it was you. Yeah. I like the trip you took us on.
[0:22:14] LHL: Up next, we'd like to invite Casey Haas reciting Stop Staring at Me.
[0:22:23] CH: I can't tell you how many times I've sat down to try and write this poem. Sometimes the words just refuse to form. I stare at my screen and it glares back daring me to break the silence. I can't tell you how many times I've tried to love the way I look. Often, the makeup isn't enough to bury what I hate. I stare into my mirror and it glares back tearing me down until there's nothing left. I can't tell you how many times I've tried to run faster. It seems like all the work I've put in has done nothing but wear me down. I stare at my over-tired sneakers and they stare back at me screaming, "You're not good enough."
I can't tell you how many times I've wondered if there's anything truly special about me. I do a lot of different things and have some distinctive qualities. But I feel that every aspect of my life comes across as average. I stare into the eyes of the woman who made me who I am and they are staring back. But this time, I see love and admiration instead of defeat and hatred. I came to the realization, maybe I've been the one telling myself that I'm worthless.
Nothing was ever staring to hurt me. It was my own mind reflecting into my soul. Maybe all those times I thought my hocus were screaming at me. They were really just shouting with enthusiasm that I kept going and put them to use. Maybe all those times my mirror stared me down, it wasn't trying to pull me apart. It was trying to piece me together to show me how beautiful I was. Maybe all those times my screen stared me down, it wasn't trying to intimidate me. It was trying to show me its potential. And look at that, I wrote a poem.
[0:23:56] LHL: I love this piece and the perspective shift in the middle. I think that is such an important reminder of how our inner voices, like how we treat ourselves. It was just really powerful.
[0:24:08] AL: Yeah. And I think that I probably got, what, 30 years on you? But I completely related to that poem.
[0:24:14] LHL: Yes.
[0:24:16] AL: Awesome. I'm pleased to welcome our next poet, Eliza Holland, reciting Compliment Flowers.
[0:24:26] EH: For some reason, teenage girls plant each other in hugs and shower each other in compliments, "You're so pretty. You're so smart. You're so sweet." The vines, they start at your toes and they make their way up to your ears. Flowers bloom on your stomach and on your shoulders. But if compliments are supposed to make you feel like you're growing, the more do I feel like I'm being strangled each time I receive one. Maybe because like the tree in my backyard, the vines, they're tightening around my neck. Never mind the roses. Thorns pierce my skin leaving scars I can see when I look in the mirror and my eyelashes aren't curling the right way. And the thing about compliment flowers is that they wilt when no one pays attention to them. You can see everyone else is just fine while your own slowly decay leaving you desperate for any half-grown, half-meant, half-hearted seed of a compliment to try and grow just one more flower.
My friends and I, we don't compliment each other each time we speak. And we don't hug all that often. And I think that's because we're trees instead of vines covered in pink blooms. I'm a tree. My vines extend past the confines of this concrete greenhouse. My vines tie me down to what I know is real, that empathy and kindness are more important than the jewelry that's wreathed around my neck.
My roots are buried deep in the beliefs that my family has planted in me that high school isn't everything. And anyone who makes you feel less than yourself is not worth your time. It's when I realize this that I feel bad for the vines who are twisting themselves into tangled tapestries just to be noticed. Maybe if they were trees too, they wouldn't feel the need to plant the flowers that prove they're so pretty, they're so sweet, and they're so smart.
[0:26:11] LHL: Oh, gosh. I really loved the movement of that piece. It felt like such a natural flow. And especially in relation to the metaphors that you had in there, I just thought it was really beautiful.
[0:26:22] AL: Yeah. I have no words. I feel, like Laura said, you guys are being so vulnerable. And that I hope that you keep writing poetry in like 10 years from now. I can see what the next poem is. But I feel really privileged to be here tonight. That was awesome.
[0:26:39] LHL: Yeah. Thank you for sharing that. Up next, we'd like to invite Alice Martin reciting My Stories.
[0:26:51] AM: I am 14 years old. I wrote a story about a team of elemental heroes. They battle forces of darkness while they struggle to overcome their pasts. It's adapted from a TV show I loved as a kid. I'm going to make it a TV show. I researched the costs to buy the rights to the original show. An entertainment lawyer is expensive.
13, I write a story about a successful but unhappy businesswoman. She loses her corporate job and has to become a high school theater teacher. I'm going to make it a musical. I write a full plot synopsis. I plan to write all the music at piano lessons. I don't know how to write music.
12, 11, 10, I lament that kids can't write TV shows. I wrote a l letter to a TV show producer begging him to let me write a TV show for him even though I'm just 10. 9, I read a story about a girl who is searching for her lost sister. She's brought to the underworld by an eccentric goblin to fight a dark spirit. Her sister is the villain. I'm going to make it a book. I read a story outline for the first five chapters. I read a draft for the first three chapters. I never make it any farther.
8, 7, I wrote a story about a team of alien bees fighting a hive of evil alien hornets. They kidnap the bad guys' queen, and the bad guys' queen kidnaps theirs. I'm going to make it two TV shows, one for the good guys and one for the bad guys. I wrote a story map for it. I lose it.
6, 5, I wrote a story about a superhero dog named Star. Her brother is evil, and he's the villain. His name is Black Lightning. I'm going to make it a movie. I draw pictures of the characters. I forget what happens to them.
4, my parents always tell me bedtime stories. They're all about characters who are sad until they find friends who understand them. I tell my own stories to them, "Once upon a time," I say, "my parents think I'm cute."
3, 2, I play pretend with my sister. We act like characters from our favorite stories. We make up new things for them to do, people for them to meet
1, 0, my parents have always been creative. Maybe that's why I have so many stories. Maybe that's why I still wonder when my time will come to tell my stories to the world.
[0:29:44] LHL: I love the imagination throughout that entire piece. That was so enjoying and just filled with excitement.
[0:29:52] AL: Yeah, I love the energy and the structure. And I kind of saw it was like a mini movie in my head.
[0:29:57] LHL: Yeah. Yeah.
[0:29:59] AL: I have the pleasure of inviting our next poet, Addison Lindscott reciting The Concept of I.
[0:30:10] AL: The lunch table whispers make migraines materialize. Strong emotions of anxiety and depression give me both kinds of headaches. And believe me, the number of doctors I've been to haven't been able to cure either. Numerous issues all residing in one place, playing into each other, feeding off of each other. Like parasites, we spiral.
I have a lot of triggers. Unfortunately, the easy ones to explain are the ones that matter the least that people can't fix, that I can't fix. Stable variables are simple, safe, like math. A² + B² = C² . Y = MX + B. I = √ of - 1, always. Even imaginary numbers invite me into their world Maybe I can be my friend.
Numbers obey, people don't. I can't predict and plan accordingly, calculate, compete, and categorize, which I need. Either way, it somehow ends up worse even when I think I am finally ready. If I plan or if I don't. It's not like tests aceable if study is somewhat involved. People are the opposite. It's easy to explain. Loud noises give me a migraine. I can't stand bright lights. Loudness, [inaudible 0:31:25], and lightens lingers, heat haunts was less easy to explain, is that anxiety gives me migraines. Your comments make me anxious or heighten my depression. Saying your teacher thinks you're depressed so you can leave class. That you and your best friend have separation anxiety. That every time I overreact about your inappropriate comments on sensitive subjects, you blame it on me. But you still don't get it, do you? But I guess it's all just in my head, right? Or maybe I'm being defensive because nothing feels real anymore. And placing petty blame on mental illness means that it's not a constant variable. It will be a part of me forever. I care too much and then not enough. Tired until I break. Maybe blaming everything on it makes it feel real. Because 40 milligrams is the reason that I am still standing. How messed up do I have to be to rely on the smallest trace of unforgivable medicine because they are a part of me? My friends and feelings, I can't accept this. Or can I? Maybe I can accept the unstable variables? X can have multiple solutions, right? Thank you.
[0:32:52] LHL: That was wonderful. Thank you so much for sharing that. I mean, the alliteration. It was so melodic. And a really beautiful, strong performance on such a vulnerable topic.
[0:33:02] AL: I concur. No, I really enjoyed how you –
[0:33:05] LHL: It just like swept us away almost.
[0:33:07] AL: Yeah. I mean, in the comparison. Yeah. I can relate. Well done.
[0:33:11] LHL: How can creativity change the world?
[0:33:16] AL: I think creativity can change the world because it is not just one simple thing. It offers a variety of perspectives. And the unique way of presenting difficult subjects can really cause dominoes to fall and lead to massive movements.
[0:33:36] AM: I think that creativity at the end of the day is someone's expression. When you make a creative piece, whether that's a poem, a piece of artwork, you're expressing your truth to the world. And when you can take time to stop and appreciate other people's truth and understand other people, that's when we can come together. And so if creativity can work as that catalyst to bring people together, I think that's how we can create change in the world.
[0:34:08] EH: I think creativity can change the world because like I can read a poem by someone who's like completely different than me. And I think I can feel the stuff that they wanted me to feel when I read it. And I think it exposes people to stuff they haven't really thought about before or like perspectives they haven't thought about.
[0:34:27] LHL: That's what you all are doing to us right now actually. It's pretty awesome.
[0:34:30] CH: Yeah, I think kind of the same thing that Eliza and Alice have said. I feel like it can connect a lot of people like from different places just hearing a song or a piece of writing. And I feel it can change people's perspective and bring people together and think things that they haven't thought before.
[0:34:47] RB: I think creativity can bring people together in ways that they couldn't do without it and it gives people new perspectives on everything.
[0:34:55] LHL: Wonderful answers. I love this.
[0:34:58] AL: I'm impressed.
[0:34:59] LHL: Yeah. Our next rapid-fire question for the folks on stage, which of the five senses is most closely connected to creativity for you?
[0:35:09] RB: I think sight is. Because just as much as you can hear someone perform something, it's so important to watch how they act it out and watch people how they act and see what they do while they do it.
[0:35:20] CH: I think hearing. Because music is a big part of my life. And I feel when I hear different pieces from different people, I feel like it just really brings out a different side of people. And there's so many different kinds of music and writing out there that I think it's definitely just a lot of creativity.
[0:35:36] EH: I guess sight, because I can't really hear a song or hear a poem without like seeing it too.
[0:35:42] AM: Yeah, I'm going to have to agree and say site just because I think the ability to create an image through words is very powerful. And a lot of my creativity I think is focused on creating emotions through my writing. So I would say imagery is the way that I personally do that.
[0:36:11] AL: I also agree with sight because I am a dancer. So we have to portray emotion that the music might not be telling the audience through our movements. And that also happens in everyday life. And I also work at a library and I love reading. And the places that stories can take me and the things that I can learn from that is so influential on my life.
[0:36:38] LHL: We were just in the break talking about like how would we answer these, and we both were talking about site and reading. I think just the exchange of ideas in that sense is so important. But it's hard to pick.
[0:36:48] AL: I know. I know. It's really hard to pick. But I love hearing all of your answers because it's making me really think about what would I say. But when I hear you guys, I'm like "Oh yeah. That's right." That is awesome.
[0:36:58] LHL: And whenever I see a band perform, or read a book, or listen to poems, I always feel inspired, I just want to go make something. I'm feeling that energy. Thank you, all, so much.
[0:37:08] AL: I pump myself up with music. I don't know about you guys. But if you're nervous, don't you just like want to listen to music and like dance it out? I don't know. Maybe it's just me.
[0:37:15] LHL: Absolutely.
[0:37:16] AL: Wonderful. Thank you so much. We're going to invite all the poets to join their peers in the audience as we invite the next group of poets.
[0:37:28] LHL: Up first, we'd like to invite Sayla Rogers who will be reciting I Hate the Color Green.
[0:37:40] SG: I used to love the color green, the earthy feeling it always gave me, the soft glimmer and glow that it could give off in the sunlight and the way that it could instantly light up a dull, gray room and fill it with color. It gave me some sign of hope in this world we are living in.
I hate the color green. I can't stand to look at it now. All I see is dullness and darkness. There is no glimmer and I can't see the lights that used to glow so bright before. That tranquil feeling is destroyed and I can never seem to make my way back to where I used to be. Yet, green is everywhere, trees, grass, traffic lights. It's a constant reminder of him. I hate seeing it. It gives me a pit in my stomach that could be never ending, swallowing everything whole, cutting out my eyes and spinning me around to get lost in the darkness.
I hate the color green. It reminds me of how my little brother is gone, that I can never see that ground-down gummy smile. Hear that simple-minded giggle he used to mutter. Interlock his small bony fingers with mine. Feel the warmth of his homelike embrace. Or watch him jump off a piece of furniture he knows he shouldn't be on. And worst of all, I won't be able to watch him grow into a person that I could never be with such a beautiful, bold, caring personality.
I hate the color green. It was my best friend's favorite color, my best friend who fought till the end of his life. He was poked and prodded, looked at and examined. His last months ripped out of his grasp because of an unattainable tumor in his brain stem. First he lost his footing, slipping and stumbling over his words like it was alphabet soup. Then he lost his hands, getting frustrated when he was no longer able to click the tiny Lego pieces into their place. After that, he lost his voice, begging for the people around him to hear him to answer his cries for help. Next, he lost his ability to move his arms and legs to show mankind that he was still with us, drifting away into a slow spiral of silence. Lastly, he lost his ability to breathe. His chest stopped moving up and down and his lungs were no longer filling with air. He was gone and there was nothing we could do to stop it.
I hate the color green. It reminds me of what I saw in my brother and how it's lost as if the world has gone black and I'm searching for a glow, his glow. The bright green luminescence of childlike innocence spreading light where there was none. I miss his glow, and I hope to see it again someday and see that ground-down gummy smile staring back at me. I hate the color green.
[0:40:14] LHL: That was so poignant, and powerful, and vulnerable. And thank you so much for sharing it with us.
[0:40:20] AL: I feel like we're getting kicked in the heart here.
[0:40:22] LHL: Yeah.
[0:40:22] AL: Thank you.
[0:40:22] LHL: Very beautiful work.
[0:40:25] AL: Next up, we're going to invite Sydney Merrow, and they are going to share their Moth Radio story, Little Big Words.
[0:40:40] SM: I haven't faced much racism. But let me tell you a time that I did. One day, I was in the school cafeteria by myself lost in my random thoughts when a teacher came up to me. She asked me a simple question, "What's on your shirt?" That day, I was wearing my Chinese New Year shirt. I excitedly told her that it was the year of the tiger.
Every year has a zodiac. 2025, being the year of the snake. However, the tiger was special to me because it was also the zodiac for the year I was born. The shirt also had the adoption agency I was from because I was adopted at 9 months from China. She asked me about that too and I told her what I just told you.
However, what she said afterward was extremely unexpected. She asked me if I was related to someone, which is normally a normal question. However, she asked me if I was related to the only other Chinese person in my grade. Suddenly, my background that I was so excited to share put me at risk for a race-related assumption and my sparks of innocent excitement turned into a fire and exploded in my face.
At first, I was confused. "No, I'm not related to them," I said. After the common courtesy of the nice to meet you and goodbyes, I thought to myself, "Did she just assume I was related to someone because I was the same race as them?" Not only was the answer to this question yes, but I realized it's happened to me before and to some of my other Asian friends. Because I was the same race as this other person, they assumed I was related to someone.
Now, this isn't top 10 most terrible racist things to say to someone. But the fact that I still think about it today shows the impact it had on me. And I guess my message is to be careful of what you say because all the small sayings, like they belong in the kitchen, or that's so gay, or that's so exotic, or I'm not racist, I have a colored friend, or those swastikas that are drawn in our school bathrooms [inaudible 0:43:05] you can make a big difference.
[0:43:19] AL: Thank you, Sydney. I can relate. I've had the exact same experience. It was very powerful to me.
[0:43:30] LHL: Very important message and really well performed. Thank you for sharing. Next we'd like to invite Ryan Wilson to recite Box of Lies.
[0:43:45] RW: I'm done trying to fit in your box labeled what a girl is. With suffocating walls that tell me I'm stupid no matter what, this cell where makeup is both mandatory and desperate, where food means strength in you but repulsive in me. From every corner echoes threats of misogyny that scare women from ever escaping. And in this box, I mustn't have too many opinions. And instead, I must sit in a corner. Don't slouch, smile more, no complaining. Don't think too hard because you'll realize how sickening this really is. Just calm down. Calm down. Calm down. Calm down. Calm down. I can't breathe in this dress that is too tight and too short, a tag grade size girl. Because every girl is expected to fit this dress. And I realized this may be the reason I gagged at the word dress in third grade. Why I made every effort to make sure people knew I hated pink. You run like a girl. You walk like a girl. You throw like a girl. You say it like it is a slur. The greatest of all insults when we were little, yet I don't think we'll ever grow out of it.
What do you think this does to little girls around the world? To be told that their gender is embarrassing and pitiful. And then when we grow up and get mad because we finally look sexism in the face, you tell us to calm down. Calm down. Calm down. Calm down. No. I will never calm down. Because in your eyes, a girl is weak, a girl is stupid. And I'm so dramatic to be standing here, reading this poem that exposes every part of me that I was taught to hide.
You cannot stand to see someone testing your made-up rules because you know how transparent they really are. And if these words bother you, if my presence is intimidating, I hope you realize that I am not the problem. It is just your toxic masculinity. I hope you realize that this poem is not hate. It is me standing up so maybe other young women can feel strong too. So here I am. And even though my body trembles and my voice shakes, I'm holding the hands of my sisters and I'm telling them that they never need to calm down. They need to get mad, get mad, get mad and fight for each other. Because all we need is each other to change the world.
And with this unstoppable front, I'm breaking out of your box. Your box that you used to silence the beating hearts of injustice with your soundproof walls, your box that you used to plug your ears at our screams so you never have to question what you know deep down is wrong, your box that you used to shield your eyes from our scars from every time no one believed us.
They say silence can be the greatest evil, so was years of dehumanizing people just because some idiot decided that they weren't good enough. Your box was never my home or who I am. Watch me tear down the walls. Who knew they were so thin? And I'm breaking out of your box and starting my own world because a girl is so much more than just your box.
[0:46:26] LHL: Another really powerful, moving message. You all are just just sweeping us away in a wave of emotions tonight. And really great performance. That was amazing.
[0:46:37] AL: That was amazing. You guys are making me feel like I can take on the world. Yeah. Please, let's welcome our next poets, Xavier Garcia de Paredes and Gabe Bueno with their poem What Are We?
[0:46:54] GB: American, straight out of the Northeast.
[0:46:56] XGDP: America's whitest area.
[0:46:57] GB: That's how we see ourselves. White.
[0:46:59] XGDP: White.
[0:46:59] GB: My last name is Bueno.
[0:47:01] XGDP: Mine's Garcia de Paredes.
[0:47:02] GB: Yeah, ask me to speak Spanish and I'm frozen.
[0:47:04] XGDP: Like a deer in headlights.
[0:47:06] GB: Getting outclassed by my own French teacher.
[0:47:07] XGDP: Now I'll see the photos of myself. Usually the darkest shade of the group.
[0:47:10] GB: Black.
[0:47:11] XGDP: Tan.
[0:47:12] GB: It reminds me of who I truly am.
[0:47:13] XGDP: Where I truly come from.
[0:47:14] GB: Who I'm supposed to be.
[0:47:15] XGDP: The next Juan Soto.
[0:47:16] GB: The next Lionel Messi.
[0:47:17] XGDP: Not a runner and not a wrestler.
[0:47:19] GB: And not a runner.
[0:47:20] XGDP: Then I'll be asked what my favorite cultural holiday is, but I'll blank.
[0:47:24] GB: They ask me what my favorite Dominican food is and I'll blank.
[0:47:26] XGDP: Is the only thing that identifies me my appearance?
[0:47:29] GB: The color that appears only in the summer.
[0:47:31] XGDP: The color bonded to my skin permanently.
[0:47:33] GB: The color that makes me ever so slightly unique.
[0:47:35] XGDP: The color that makes me feel separated from the rest.
[0:47:38] GB & XGDP: So now we're stuck.
[0:47:39] XGDP: What am I? Does my heritage really matter here?
[0:47:43] GB: Am I really different?
[0:47:44] XGDP: I feel white.
[0:47:45] GB: But white feels wrong.
[0:47:47] XGDP & GB: What do we do? What are we?
[0:47:55] LHL: Amazing work. But also tremendous performance. We had the pleasure of reading these ahead of time. But it is nothing like just seeing it. It's existing in just this moment as it is. Well done.
[0:48:07] AL: Yeah, I know. I like how you guys worked together as a team to make that happen. The performance was great.
[0:48:14] LHL: And so we'd like to now invite another member of poetry team, Lucy Bailey will be reciting Pop Quiz.
[0:48:28] LB: Unit review. If a regular polygon has seven sides, what is the sum of a singular interior angle? How fast can you lock a door when your classroom is boiling over like a brittle pot of anxiety? What is the difference between a parallelogram and a trapezoid? To what decibel can you quiet your trembling breath? Remind me again what an 11-sided figure is called. But also, do you know how to make your body small enough to disappear under a desk?
Pop quiz question one for 25 points. What do you do with yourself when the world outside is about to explode? Being unreachable keeps us safe. Phones in the caddy, in your bag, turned off. The silence that you are met with is palpable. Groups of kids huddled into corners. If not huddled, running. If not running, walking. If not walking, crawling. And if not crawling, simply trying to hold on to this wispy silky strands of life that they have left that is sifting through their hands like sand. But tell me, who do you reach for as the door handle jostles that's not a student coming back from the bathroom? What do you reach for as your classmates take their very last breath embracing death wrapped in silence thicker than smoke? Certainly not your phone. That's the least of your worries now.
Pop quiz question two for 20 points. Who do you call when you can't? When the very thing that connects you to the outside world is hung up on a wall next to a door that you can't approach for the very fear of gun violence entering the classroom, maybe tucked in a bag under a desk, which is hopefully not in front of a door increasing your chance of survival. Maybe when your voice is locked up tighter than a door or window that may or may not hold, which is the very difference between life or death. Who gets to hear your last breath? No distractions. No screens. The only distraction is a scream crawling its way out of your throats as blood is painted onto hallways, phones pinging with no one to answer. You are shushed again. This time, for not the talking you make with your friends, but for the urgent mumbling and whimpering you make as you make a prayer to keep your brother in room 203 alive. If anything, let him live and take your life instead. But is it a fight for your own survival? You've only ever heard about this stuff on the news.
Question three going for 15 points. How do you explain this to your mother? The policy says your last breath may never make its way home. That it could die in a room full of people and still be alone. And your dad might call you, a deathly silence on the other line. As phones erupt into the air with cries so similar to the ones you just heard in the hallway.
Pop quiz question four, heading towards 10 points now. What is the sound of hope? Is it the distant whale of sirens? The soft shuffle of step? The quick click of a lock that holds? Maybe the breath you never thought you'd get to take again. Or maybe it's just silence?
Pop quiz, question five. Ironically, for five points. When they count the survivors, will the bodies that litter educational floors be more than a statistic they scroll past? While the ones live go on carrying the weight of the silence heavy, heavy with the sound after the noise stops. Remember forever. Would rest of America do the same? She bites more than she kisses America, with blood behind her teeth and screams under her tongue, liberties of planet justice and ocean floor. Our arms are tired of carrying out hope. Born again, saved to suffer. We've been through the same drills over and over. Except the thing that worries America the most is a screen and not the screams.
Pop quiz. This is an extra question. It costs zero points. The same way that the students lives across the US can't compare to the crucial case of screens and phones distracting us from class. Pop quiz, except nobody studied for this.
[0:51:59] AL: This gave me chills. And your delivery was so effective. The cadence of your voice and just the elements of a quiz and its importance. And survival and its importance. And just really well done.
[0:52:15] LHL: How can creativity change the world?
[0:52:16] LB: To be honest, I think AI has taking that away from us. But creativity can really change the world through little things, in my opinion. It's in the way that there's graffiti on the walls and cities and different things. But it also changes the world through interpretation. I do think it costs – makes movements. But I also think that just seeing creativity in everyday life is really important for people because it's our way of showing expression. Like maybe someone in a 9-to-five job just needs some way to escape that and creativity is a way to do that.
[0:52:55] AL: Excellent.
[0:52:57] SM: I think that creativity can show other people your perspective. And you can gain so many other perspectives from other people sharing their creativity to you. And it can give you so many new ideas and just change your outlook on the world.
[0:53:12] RW: I think that creativity connects people. That's why we're all here right now, we all created something. Also, I think it lets people like show who they really are, express themselves. Because this is us showing what we put into a poem and we get to share it with each other.
[0:53:29] LHL: Love that.
[0:53:30] GB: I mean, look around everything that you can see was created by a by-product of a creative mind. I hope that creativity is able to produce more wonderful children such as everyone here so we can have more people sharing their minds through the poems and we can have more audience members that can fill all the seats behind us. That's what I hope creativity can do for us in the future.
[0:53:51] XGDP: I think creativity is really everything. I mean, everything has been created, I mean. And creativity comes with imagination. We're all imaginative. We're all in school because we're creating something, whether it's a math problem or a piece of poetry. I think it's pretty much everything. And it's fun to watch it grow.
[0:54:10] SG: I think creativity, like Ryan said, it connects people together. I think once you're creative, it's kind of like a pattern. When you're creative, it inspires other people and it just brings everyone together and it just shows you everyone's perspective and what they think.
[0:54:32] LHL: Love that.
[0:54:32] AL: All right. If you remember, we're going back to the five senses. This is about what sense of the five senses most closely connected to creativity for you.
[0:54:44] SG: I think it would probably be sight for me, because I'm really big into art. And I just think that everything around could inspire me to start a new painting or a new art piece. And just everything is so inspirational.
[0:55:04] XGDP: I believe it also be sight. Well, I think it's sight, because whether it's from a piece of writing, to a dance, to facial expressions, to a piece of artwork, it all has to do with sight and how you interpret it in your mind.
[0:55:18] GB: I think it's hearing. I think you just learn so much. I mean, from my experience from all the teachers, and coaches, and everything else, just listening to them and learning can create so many ideas in my head. And that's how I wrote some of my poem, just taking the time to stop and listen to people, and they can really inspire you to do things.
[0:55:36] RW: I'd say sight, because I have my desk in front of a window. I write what I see. And the people that I see inspire me, reading. And that's what mostly inspires me.
[0:55:50] SM: For me, I would say hearing. Because I'm a musician, and hearing the crescendo of songs, the flowiness or the sharpness really just inspires me. And also, when people are speaking, hearing the tone of their voice and how they can turn something into their own, I think that's really wonderful.
[0:56:12] LB: I'm going to be honest, I don't know what the five senses are. I don't know how I graduated kindergarten. But I think feeling fits under that umbrella. And I think feeling is a really big part of creativity. And I feel like that kind of connects to me because you have to feel music, you have to feel writing, you have to feel what you're putting into art. I just feel like feeling is the sense that connects to me the most.
[0:56:35] AL: We will take that answer.
[0:56:36] LHL: Yes.
[0:56:38] AL: Great job, guys.
[0:56:39] LHL: It's so fascinating to hear everyone's different opinions on which of the senses. And I wonder if scent and taste are feeling lonely, because nobody has said those, I think.
[0:56:48] AL: I mean, I'm food motivated. But I love how everyone – how your mind works. Even if you are talking about a sense that someone else talked about, your perspective is different and why you think that. Yeah.
[0:57:00] LHL: 100%. Yeah. It is time to move into the open mic section of the evening with some returning students from last year. We would love to invite on the stage Oel Leo with their poem Wake Up.
[0:57:15] OL: We are no longer a democracy but a plutocracy. Standing no longer united but divided. Let's wake up, because we are already cannon fodder waiting in line to be slaughtered. Let's run, let's scatter, let's hide and fight. Let's confuse the oppressors and birchers that enslave and kill us. Let's change the system that's chained us to this endless cycle of death. Let's turn on the headlights. Let's remove the blinds. Because the sooner we are aware of this current bloodbath that we are drowning in, that is drowning us, the sooner we are to changing our fates. Open your eyes and wake up. Let's just wake up.
[0:58:08] LHL: That was very powerful. Thank you for sharing that. And really feel.
[0:58:15] AL: I'm just laughing because I guess you could be considered amateurs. But you guys are bringing it.
[0:58:19] LHL: Yeah. In the break, we were talking about how I can't even imagine getting up on stage and doing what you're doing. So, bravo.
[0:58:28] AL: All right. Next up, we'd like to welcome Stephie Heelan, and their poem 39 Seconds.
[0:58:41] SH: 39 seconds. My feet wet and wrinkled clung to the edge of the crimson covered diving block while my hand simultaneously trembled at my side. 39 seconds. The treacherous pool below me bore into my soul. Its cold and unyielding nature didn't go unnoticed as the competition surged forward. Swimmers dashed about the pool length like their lives depended on it. I knew that my highly trained teammate swam with purpose aiming for state nationals. But I, I stood aside nervously as uncertainty gnawed at my very being. And it wasn't long before doubt began to creep in, whispering to me venomously, letting me know that the agonizing months of training hadn't shaped me into the swimmer that I longed to be.
39 seconds. It was my first year on a competitive swim team. On the surface, I didn't quite understand why I had joined. But deep down, I always knew. 39 seconds, that was my record time for the 50 freestyle. Though it paled in comparison to my teammates’ blazing speeds, it was my own benchmark and one I was determined to beat.
39 seconds, the swimmers ahead of me begin to close in and I take my mark. 39 seconds was once all the time my grandfather had left to swim in this very pool. It's almost impossible to fathom, that in the same waters where I now stand in a complicated anxiety, he once dominated. Records fell before him like dominoes, one after another. 39 seconds. I can only imagine that the swimmer ahead of me has already broken that time leaving me chasing a ghost.
39 seconds was once all the time I left to spend with my grandfather as he rotted away in a rundown hospital bed. I embraced him tightly, tears threatening to spill down the side of my young and weary face. Afraid that if I let go, I would never be able to hold on to him again. 39 seconds, we all get ready to dive in the pool. My arms shake violently as they crush my head in a streamlined position. 39 seconds until his last breath. I can only imagine what his final moments on earth was like. The get well soon card I crafted him dangling solemnly above his head attached to the hospital ceiling by mere string, much like his teeniest hold on life. I'm not in the room, yet I wish I was.
A whole life lived of decades of laughter, heartbreak, memorable moments, excitement, children, grandchildren, and love all about to go dark in less than a minute, all to be an empty void for the rest of eternity for every memory to be discarded as if they never occurred in the first place.
39 seconds. I hit the water with a bang. It's not a perfect dive, but I don't hesitate. I plow through the pool swiftly my arms slicing the water like a violent blade. I hear the muffled sounds of cheering and screams coming from my teammates mixing fatally with the deafening roar of my ignited thoughts. 39 seconds. Just 39 seconds more with him and I'd be happy just to see his face one last time, just to bathe in his smile, just to hear him laugh once more, just to hear him say my name. Just 39 seconds to relive every memory I've ever made with him to enjoy one final moment with him, to hug him, to tell him that I love him, to show him how far I've come, to prove to him that my devotion to him is so strong that I would join a brand new sport in my junior year of high school just to live up to the legacy that he leaves behind.
39 seconds goes faster than I want to think. I pierce through the pool with a frenzied freestyle I didn't even know I was capable of producing. I can't breathe, can't think, can't stop, won't stop, won't think, won't breathe. I just need to beat my time. I need to beat the chains that confide me to my previous records. I need to beat myself. Please don't beat 39 seconds.
As I slap the side of the PA pool wall, I collapse into the rim of its wake. I silently pray that I was as fast as I believed myself to be. I finally allow oxygen to reclaim my lungs and my heart races with anticipation. All little reminders that I'm well and alive despite the fact that my mind is void of everything. But the one question I'm petrified to answer, was it under 39 seconds?
I glanced at the swimmer towering above me dive off the block with grace. And with that, I climbed purposely out of the pool. And for the first time in what I hope was under 39 seconds, my aching feet meet the paved, yet tiled floor. I look directly ahead of me and there I see the gatekeeper of my time. He stands strictly, clicking his little pen, tapping the head of it on the side of the sharp clipboard. My heart sinks into the pit of my stomach. I yearn to ask him for my time, yet I'm terrified of knowing. As if he already knew what I was going to ask, he shot me a mere glance before sliding his pen down the page. His final verdict sealed in ink. Your time is 40 seconds.
[1:03:25] LHL: Thank you so much for sharing that. What a tremendous and heartfelt performance. Really felt that.
[1:03:31] AL: Yeah. No, it was great. Thank you, Stephie.
[1:03:34] LHL: Up next, we would like to invite Lily Bozenski to share their poem Rip.
[1:03:46] LB: Once again, that oh so familiar feeling rises in my chest. Hello, anxiety. I don't remember inviting you. But you've always preferred to crash the party anyway. Like a dorm room full of intoxicated college students, my fears build to a crescendo of chaos buzzing around in my mind like flies carrying messages of panic. People will judge me. I'll mess up. People will hate me. I'm not good enough. The thoughts spiral, spiral, spiral. Snap. Crap.
A single long brown hair sits in my hand twisted around my fingertips until they turn purple, suffocating them like a boa constrictor. I tense my muscles and it tears into tiny pieces, falling, falling, falling to the floor. I don't mean to pull my hair out. I don't even notice I'm doing it, sometimes not even when the pressure starts on my head, sometimes not even after the strand is stopping the blood from reaching the ends of my fingers, sometimes not even when it tumbles to the ground. I don't do it because I want to. I do it because I can't not. I am addicted to the feeling of the pain on my scalp, addicted to the feeling of the hair follicles sliding out from under my skin. Addicted to the feeling of the string strangling my digits. Addicted to the feeling of it snapping like the fates cutting the thread of life.
My skull itches like it's begging me to tear the leeches off my crown. But they're not leeches, they're locks, and I love them. They are beautiful. I don't want them gone. But there is no one I can beg to make the urge stop. No one but myself. I rip the hair from my head like I wish I could rip the anxiety from my brain. Each strand, a new worry that I'm tearing out. People will judge me. Rip. I'll mess up. Rip. People will hate me. Rip. I'm not good enough. Rip, rip, rip. R-I-P to my hair. I loved you, and I'm sorry.
[1:05:38] LHL: Thank you, Lily. That was so well performed and very vulnerable. And we really appreciate you sharing that with us.
[1:05:45] AL: All right. I think we're coming to the end. And we'd love to invite, of course, member of the poetry team.
[1:05:51] LHL: That's right.
[1:05:53] AL: I don't know what this poetry team is.
[1:05:54] LHL: It sounds awesome.
[1:05:54] AL: But, yeah, I really want to join. Please welcome Shayla Gerkin, Marley Beltre. They will be performing History on Repeat by Shayla Gerkin and Beatriz Mella.
[1:06:12] SG & BM: Let me say this clearly, the past is present.
[1:06:15] LHL: 1776, she stitched flags but couldn't vote under its stars.
[1:06:19] BM: Now, she runs for president. But they still question if she's gone too far.
[1:06:24] SG: 1920, women's votes won. Respect still pending.
[1:06:26] BM: A 100 years later, still explaining, still defending.
[1:06:30] SG & BM: Don't call it the past when we're living it presently.
[1:06:33] BM: A woman's no is ignored in whispered fear.
[1:06:36] SG: Now it's shouted in courtrooms, falling on deaf ears.
[1:06:40] BM: 1973, her body, her choice.
[1:06:42] SG: 2022, Donald Trump boast, "I was able to kill Roe V. Wade," dictating our voice.
[1:06:48] BM: She burned bras to break free, but the flames weren't enough.
[1:06:51] SG: Freedom isn't fabric, it's being treated like you're tough.
[1:06:54] SG & BM: Toughness that is forced on us.
[1:06:56] SG: 2012, Sandy Hook proved Americans, believe guns are more important than kids being taught.
[1:07:02] BM: I'm less stressed about going to college than being shot.
[1:07:05] SG & BM: Another classroom, another crime scene.
[1:07:07] SG: The Second Amendment is outdated. 488 mass shootings in 2024.
[1:07:12] BM: How many more till guns are regulated?
[1:07:14] SG & BM: History's echo sound a lot like today.
[1:07:17] SG: We mark our biases in subtle tones attacking those whose ideas don't reflect our own.
[1:07:22] BM: Marginalized communities work tirelessly to get here. In return, they're being ripped from their loved ones all for the betterment of our nation in fear. The American dream is no longer what it seems. It is an adverse nightmare tearing the nation apart by no moral means.
[1:07:37] SG: How can someone risk it all, flee into a place whose progression is in reverse hitting backspace?
[1:07:43] SG & BM: No longer can we be proudly American when America retraces its steps in history. If history repeats, then so will we, louder, stronger, unapologetically.
[1:08:01] LHL: What a significant and important piece of work and an absolute amazing way to finish up the evening. I'd also like to just give a shout out that Shayla has been interviewed on the Creative Guts podcast before. If you'd like to listen to her episode, please check it out. It was a tremendous conversation. Oh my gosh. This has just been so powerful and amazing I don't even know if I have the words to describe how boooied I feel and the hope that I feel from hearing from the voices of young creatives.
[1:08:35] AL: Yeah, absolutely. When you asked me to join you, I had no idea what I was in for. But this is amazing. I think you guys are awesome. And I hope that you keep writing. Or if you're not writing, I hope you continue to create. Yeah, I mean, you guys can change the world. I believe it.
[1:08:52] LHL: Yeah. You're doing it right now. All right, folks. We would like to thank you all for being here tonight. A special thank you goes to the students who shared their poetry with us. Stepping up to the microphone in front of a crowd is undeniably gutsy. And you all did an incredible job writing and performing such moving topics. Maybe another round of hands in order. My god. Amazing.
[1:09:20] AL: We'd also like to thank the New Hampshire State Council on the Arts for making this project possible. And, of course, Creative Guts would like to thank Exeter High School for inviting us to be part of this very special and inspiring event.
[1:09:30] LHL: The recording of tonight's event will be aired on Creative Guts in the coming months, probably a couple months down the line. If you'd like to learn more about us, you can visit our website, creativegutspodcast.com.
[1:09:43] ALL: Show us our creative guts.
[1:09:45] AL: Whoa. Excellent. Thank you, and good night.
[END]