Gypsy Magic: Clay Johnson

unpublished writing by a youth from Larkin Street Youth Services
*typos and capitalization are [sic]

From the depths of an alley out bursts and old and gray gypsy man weary with the tempered sunshine dripping from his wilted eyes. An officer sees and meets him at the alleys opening before he has a chance to run. "Stop gypsy!" he cries. The gypsy knowing he could run sees something like intrigue in the angle of the officer's eyes and decides to obey.

"Gypsy we have the same enemy and I seek your magic." "Nonsense" says the gypsy, "there is no such thing as magic". While speaking and with a wave of his hand he is simultaneously allowed a moment to hide in his pocket a jewel that he had bartered (tricked) out of the possession of a local townsmen.

"I've seen you move with the forces of the unknown. I believe not in witches but I know what I've seen of you gypsy. As well, that old farmer on the hill who I know would have you breathing dirt under stone if he could, has lately born an offense upon my family".

Sensing now an opportunity springing through their rift the gypsy ruminates on this statement for a moment. then out of the corner of his eye he sees the townsman searching for revenge in his periphery and so responds, "walk with me long arm of order and I shall show you the ways to deal with our commonalities." Together they walk towards the outskirts of town.

Upon reaching the farthest limits of the small dusty town the gypsy motioned for the officer to sit. "For a small price I will teach you to stop time itself just long enough to conjurewhatever tools you may need in any situation." "Yes gypsy pleaaaaase I will do anything. The farmer refuses to sell my wife and I vegetables because he believe me not to be fit for her hand in marriage. I fear our starvation! Here is some gold and silver I had saved for just such and occasion". The gypsy's eyes glowed and lowered for nearly an indiscernible instant before he response, "you prepare for strange situations officer". The officer tries to bargain some more by saying, with this can you not pay off your debt to the farmer?" The gypsy had no intention of paying off anyone but he quickly agreed, accepted the payment, and motioned for the officer to close his eyes.

Escape within his reach, the gypsy felt surprisingly torn. He would usually be halfway to the next nowhere with a new bag of tricks and money by now but something about the officers demeanor strangely affected him. Usually people falling for his tricks was to him, a sign of naivety but for the first time he saw something different, trust, and it stirred him.

In this moment time itself did stop and a sort of magic did bubble up from the situational instance. for a moment he could have sworn that he could literally perceive a great intangivle force emanating from the officers still body. He had always known of this spring of fluidity but had for some reason never thought to use it this way.

He picked up the most unique looking rock he could find in his periphery and handed it to the officer and enclosed the officers hand around it.

"Now without opening your eyes" said the gypsy, "place this magic stone in your coat pocket and never look at it until you need it. Then in that moment gaze upon it and know that it is you and that your strength and magic spring from within it."

Nearly crying the officer thanked him and did as he was told. As he was leaving he also added, "now that I think about it my wife and I hardly need this rolling dried tumble weed of a town. We shall now go west as we have always dreamed of doing and just as you would do. Oh thank you gypsy. Thank you."

As the officer left the gypsy began to reflect. He knew of no other life than that of rambling momentum as a seed to his alchemy but of the deep-seated and knowing trust the officer possessed he had little. Thoughts filled his ebbing mind and spilled out of his periphery like tears the earth itself did cry to wash away the dirt. he decided it was time he lived out the rest of his days in one place and this town to him seemed perfect.

His eyes wandered autonomously to rock of a similar deep red hue as the one he had given the officer. He picked it up as if just to feel its energy but in that moment, as soon as the rock felt settled in his palm, he closed his eyes as tightly as they could allow. He felt then his entire sense of self dissolve away. Somehow out of his body and into that of the rock. With a smile his body fell limp to the ground as he passed away.

His last thought coupled with a chuckle was whispered from his lips as he relaxed into eternity, "magic is..." The end

My New Years Resolution: Camea Davis

unpublished poem by a youth from Larkin Street Youth Services
*typos and capitalization are [sic]

12-28-10

Its finally here 2011, last year was rough some family members now IN heaven, but next year is my year plenty of dreams & goals to reach, but I made a promise to myself to live life & be stressfree. I no longer want to struggle got a spot but not the "green," In like a month Im 24, Im no longer 23, Its funny we never know the different things that life is gonna bring but yet to life Im still committed and real soon I'll reach my dreams.

Food is Delicious: Vaughnjareya Falkner

unpublished poem by a youth from Larkin Street Youth Services
*typos and capitalization are [sic]

Food is delicious
Food makes me fat
Food is good
or evil.
Some have too much
Others have too little
I've even met those who have the perfect amount.
Food.
It's there
In the cabinets
slimmering on stove
raw in plastic packaging
moldering under the couch.
Food. Hey, you guys want some food?!
How do you like yours?
And you?
Out of the can.
How about you?
I like it free, my man.
Holocaust victims were deprived of it.
Mardi Gras revelers in France indulged in it.
Spilled it on the ground,
while children cried to be fed
seeing cakes and sweet meats trampled
beneath the rich people's feet.
I hate using cash to get it,
Food Stamps are preferred.
People love it during Christmas
and shun it after New Year.
"Lose those holiday pounds!" Magazines skriek post-Thanksgiving.
"Feed the children!"
"There's starving people in Africa!"
Not ALL, parts, dummy. Africa is a continent.
Binging, purging,. Tasting, dining. Salvia glands prepare you.
Hot or cold, my dear? Ice cram man in the summer, soup man in the winter.
Food.
Pick your poison, baby.

Seeing I 2 I: Warren Ross

unpublished poem by a youth from Larkin Street Youth Services
*typos and capitalization are [sic]

Seeing I 2 I
to know, think about, and tolerate is one thing
to contemplate, understand, and accept is
Another entirely.

Let me put this out there right from the start.
I am me.
Warren
Edward
Ross
No one Else, got it?
Good.
And now I just wanna say I am really
starting to get annoyed with this whole
label, label stereotype thing every
one And their Mammas seem
to be rolling with these days.
Do you think what if the whole world went
blind, people would really know who's standing
beside them. Maybe we'd finally look past
appearance, and actually get to know
the people behind the cover
or maybe

I'm just
crazy
could
be.

I don't know
I just don't understand
why the world is so fucking judgmental,
Can I just be me?
Can we just be humans together?