To Hold On To You Forever

I love how your hair is so beautiful

And that your skin is so smooth to the touch

When you are singing, me to sleep you lull

For it’s so peaceful when you sing so much

The love I had for you matched no others

Shall your beauty be ever eternal

Even if our fate, it, to us, smothers

I still have you encased in this journal

You are very stunning, inside and out

From your completion that does not have age

To the way you sound when you scream and shout

Even the blood I’m using on this page

I have you in my hands for me to look

For it is your skin that has bound this book

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Black and White Rainbow

The static clears and the world is set

With Dorothy staring into the sunset

As well as a rainbow so far away

That must have been colored white and gray
This black and white rainbow

That has been so dull

What is there to show

That isn’t here to mull
From blades of grass to iron wood trees

These are the materials that we need to ease

Any other struggle that we may have here

Instead of looking past anything, failing to endear
This black and white rainbow

We always hope has color

So we suspend belief of what we know

To submit to the allor

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Fallout

“Is everything ready, Luca?” my grandmother said to me. I was just finishing the last bit of packing that I needed to do. I had a red backpack with everything I wanted to bring with me.

“Yes nana, everything is ready,” I said to her. I grabbed my backpack and walked down the hallway of my house. My grandmother stood in the living room with the two suitcases that carried our clothes and shoes.

“The evacuation shuttle is here,” my grandmother said. “Grab your bag and let’s go.” We grabbed our suitcases and exited the house. A U.S. Department of Homeland Security seal was on the side of the bus.

I had been living on the Cape for many years. I went to school in the Cape, so my grandmother flew up to take care of me. We lived in a rental house in Mashpee Village, a small, cheap neighborhood on Cape Cod. I thought I would finish high school here. That’s why I flew up to attend a prep school in the US. But that doesn’t seem like a likely situation now.

Out of all the times WWIII could have been declared, I had to be alive to witness it. It will be a short spectacle, sure. The nukes will quickly destroy everything that they come to contact with, but I had no idea where they would go. Bermuda is my home, with all of my family on it. I really hoped they would be fine.

I boarded the bus as the driver loaded my bags in the underhand compartment. Everyone on the bus had a similar look on their face. It wasn’t fear, and it certainly wasn’t hope. It was something else. It was a look of uncertainty. A look that knew all their hopes and dreams could be blown away by the atom hanging over them. This weapon that was originally in low light and easy to ignore was taking the spotlight, leaving us, as people living under it, somber.

Time seemed to slow down as the bus neared the bunker we would be staying at. If everything went well, they will deport me back the Bermuda. I really hope they do that because that means there still would be a Bermuda. I hope my family will be okay. I needed them to stay alive. I needed them in my life.

I couldn’t think of anything other than Bermuda on the bus. The pink sand beaches, the sun, the humidity that goes to 80%, the multiple islands it’s made of, hell, even the hurricanes that would come from time to time. And then, nothing. Like it wasn’t even there at all.

Tears ran down my face. I wanted to see them again, to hear them, to touch them, anything. I just wanted them. I looked outside the window to the gray skies above. It seemed like the perfect day to begin WWIII.

The bus stopped in Boston. We got off to face the armored jeeps and army men that would take us to some hills west of Boston. That was where they kept the shelters due to the elevated grounds. Our bags were taken to the bunkers separately to save room in the jeeps. We got in the jeeps by family, so my grandmother and I had to share ours with a family of four. They all wore faces of hopelessness, like everything they love was already obliterated, even though the bombs hadn’t dropped yet.

As soon as we got up the hill, we were led to a cave that seemed built into it. Inside was a nuclear-proofed interior with an armored door. One of the army people leading us used a series of codes that opened the door to reveal a staircase that led downwards into the hill. The army man went in and gestured for us to follow.

I walked with my grandmother down the stairs. She needed me to help her down due to her bad knee, so she put one hand on my shoulder and had me lead the way. As we descended, she held to my shoulder with an iron grip, ensuring that her knee didn’t give out and that she is supported by something. We climbed down the stairs until we reached a hallway on the bottom. Rows of vaults surrounded us. Some were open. Some were closed. Some had people getting situated with their vault. The army man told us to keep moving, so we ventured down the hallway, following him to our vault. I wondered if the U.K. had similar ones, and if the Bermudians would go to them. I would hope so.

We finally found our vault after five minutes of walking. The army man issued his last command to us and told us to get in. So we took the steps. One, two, three, four, five, and we were inside. He then briefed us on the rations and gave us brief instructions in the event of certain situations, such as if there were intruders with or without weapons, nuclear leaks, or even possible anti-bunker bombs. After that, he typed a code into the panel, and the door started to shut. As the door closed, I could only think of the family that wasn’t with me, and probably won’t be ever again, as the door slammed shut, acting as my barrier from the world.

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Politics AKA This is NOT what I wanted to discuss

Politics, Politics oh golly my,

A subject that balances facts with lies.

Politics, politics oh golly me,

Probably not the talk to have over tea.

For as the subject turns brutal, and you talk about sin,

You’ll find your tea, from your cup, all over him.

The friend, you realized, has different views than you,

It instantly turns you to enemies from dudes.

This comes from a spark or even a small comment,

That you really thought would be pretty harmless.

But since you started it there is no stop,

Until someone has to do something that actually is not,

As circular an argument as this topic seems,

That is all that discussing politics means.

Politics, Politics, oh golly my,

One of the greatest dividers of all times.

Politics, Politics, oh golly me,

Why don’t you just let the subject be.

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A Dark and Stormy Night

The Clouds are gray, and the forest is quite a sight,

It is what happens, on a dark and stormy night.

Watch and see, as the remnants of magic fade,

Gaze upon this most beautiful trade.

See the color drain slightly from the leaves,

As the witchcraft, out from it bleeds.

Gaze upon the lightning strike,

As it burns the sorcery bright.

Watch as gods fall, struck by their own might,

Masked by the sound of thunder and light.

Look at them fall, see where they lie,

Look at them crash, as they die.

Make haste, make haste so you won’t miss,

The death of the old ways, good bye I kiss.

Let the new generation of thinking begin,

One that even I won’t be starring in.

My time of birth had played a part,

Too late for the Old World and the New World’s too far.

If only my birth had been with this next world’s,

I would have had a place for my knowledge to unfurl.

A world that would have devoured my philosophy,

A world that would have been grateful to have me.

But my time to strut the stage has past,

But in spirit and writing, my lead will last.

So let the cogs turn, and let the steam pour,

Let the factories rumble and roar.

Thank the Ancients’ magic for carrying us this high,

But now we must carry ourselves, before the magic runs dry.

Let us sit here together in the pouring rain,

To give our condolences to the Old World’s reign.

And what will come of the funeral witnessed tonight?

For that we would have to see beyond The Dark and Stormy Night.

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Olive

Do you know,

as well as me,

about a twig,

from the olive tree.
The wise tree,

from which life starts,

from which life ends,

and body and soul part.

Do you know,

about the fruit?

For some form of god,

it might suit.

Do you know,

about the oil,

and the food of the greats,

that it might boil.

Do you know,

about the seed,

from which another tree grows,

if we may need.

There are things,

not many know.

These things untold,

by neither friends nor foes.

A drop of wisdom.

that you will find,

from just a tree,

if you open your mind.

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