Windscript Volume 24, 2007-2008 - Saskatchewan Writers' Guild
Windscript Volume 24, 2007-2008 - Saskatchewan Writers' Guild Windscript Volume 24, 2007-2008 - Saskatchewan Writers' Guild
The Magazine of Saskatchewan High School Writing Jocelyn Lukan Light Bulb Moments This species has never completely made its escape from the Garden of Eden. We live in a skipping record Making the same mistakes. Making the same mistakes. Making the same… Listen to the reptilian whispers and eat of the forbidden fruit. Devour it early on through needles and dust and vapors; sometimes a light bulb torn from its place on the ceiling – smouldering, searing hot in the night. Does it even matter that it’s dark? Then stagnant gazes can’t view sick reflections staring back through shattered glass. It seemed brilliant at the time. Please, a drop of ammonia to cool my tongue… These sins redden our eyes. Crawling limbs contused; acidic boils that burst and fester with a horrible release. Will any of us see morning? Our creator chooses the damned with his fatherly judgment. They end in prisons or hospitals with cold white walls; controlled by machines. The lucky ones end their wasted fling in paradise with a long rest in the morgue and a longer one in the dirt. The sweetest sleep. So let’s fly away to Eden, windScript 18 and choke our misery in hundreds of broken light bulb moments. “It’s the only way out,” they say. We’ll crumble like the walls of fallen Babylon. Or burn to ash like Sodom and Gomorrah. It’s such a waste of life. Such a wasted life. Victoria Bridge Blues spoken word attempted lips crack ; sounds of symphonies not words pour from hot mouth : not enough to distinguish the river, water aflame smoke billow ascends up smoothstretched Saskatchewan skies sprinkle your ashes upon taught forehead flesh my sister and i tear our clothing , wail in grief , hung her lover a mobile of sorrows yet hasn’t quit whispering in my ear since four; a deep December mourning volume 24
The Magazine of Saskatchewan High School Writing Jocelyn Lukan Feline Simplicity tired question over and over why can I not sit; a cat beside the fireplace? curled upon myself in radiant bliss I would lay calmly licking my amber fur instead to be page three-hundred one torn from romantic novel the part where the heroine dies (natural sacrifice, for her lover) hinging fingers create my life to paper cranes; wings crackling into flight between creases listen for shining silver bell tolling from my collar for rest 19 white is not black white is not black; it is a blank page to be spit on in ink also naïve candy virgin waiting waiting waiting to be torn open marked discarded it is not the color shadows are composed of – [stealthy, malicious] it is - in fact a >slap< in the face from a stranger informing that it is completely unacceptable to dance in the rain on a sunny day rainbows : - assorted color masses - a twisted tie-dye of character - finest silk ribbons whereas white is consistently the pigment with no pigment nothing; nothing but absence white is only black in a singular respect : neither are red or blue windScript volume 24
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The Magazine of <strong>Saskatchewan</strong> High School Writing<br />
Jocelyn Lukan<br />
Feline Simplicity<br />
tired question<br />
over and<br />
over<br />
why<br />
can I not sit;<br />
a cat<br />
beside the fireplace?<br />
curled upon myself<br />
in radiant bliss<br />
I would lay<br />
calmly<br />
licking<br />
my amber fur<br />
instead to be<br />
page three-hundred one<br />
torn from romantic novel<br />
the part where<br />
the heroine dies<br />
(natural sacrifice,<br />
for her lover)<br />
hinging fingers<br />
create my life<br />
to paper cranes;<br />
wings crackling into flight<br />
between creases<br />
listen for shining silver bell<br />
tolling from my collar<br />
for rest<br />
19<br />
white is not black<br />
white is not black;<br />
it is a blank page<br />
to be spit on in ink<br />
also naïve candy virgin<br />
waiting<br />
waiting<br />
waiting to be<br />
torn open marked discarded<br />
it is not the color<br />
shadows<br />
are composed of –<br />
[stealthy, malicious]<br />
it is - in fact<br />
a >slap<<br />
in the face<br />
from a stranger informing<br />
that it is completely unacceptable<br />
to dance in the rain<br />
on a sunny day<br />
rainbows :<br />
- assorted color masses<br />
- a twisted tie-dye of character<br />
- finest silk ribbons<br />
whereas white<br />
is consistently<br />
the pigment with no pigment<br />
nothing;<br />
nothing but absence<br />
white is only black<br />
in a singular respect<br />
: neither are red<br />
or blue<br />
windScript volume <strong>24</strong>
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