Poetpourri (multiple authors)

Ashly Curtis/Undergrad-Creative Writing
Kayla Johnson/Undergrad-Political Science & Print Journalism

 

The Haiku Herald Vol. II

shut down the highway
SWAT team busts down U-Haul door
snipers inside? NOT!

Palin, take a break
This speaking thing’s not for you
Inked palm: shitty plan

East Coast’s mighty storm
global warming takes a break
a snowmaggedon!

 

Briana Bryant

Undergraduate/Undeclared

 

 

Naked Seams

 

Best friends are the people

you share your heart with.

 

Not your time,

your money,

or your secrets. 

Your heart and soul. 

They are the people who see your true self,

naked and human. 

They, in turn,

let you see them at their core.

 

It is not about how much time you spend together. 

It is not about how much money you have spent on them and with them. 

It is not about how many things they know about your life and you know about theirs. 

It is about raw and painful honesty. 

It is about love. 

It is about knowing when they need you as well as when they need to be alone.

 

A bond that true and genuine can never be broken. 

It may become tattered or torn as the years wear on,

But the seam that connects two best friends can never be unsewn. 

It will always remain, no matter changes in circumstances, jobs, or even addresses. 

It is something to cherish.

 

Autumn Wilson
English Literature/Theatre Arts
Undergrad
Senior

 

LULLIBY

 

Rock and sway

Rock and sway

Screams echo in the hall

Scratches run down the walls

Rock and Sway

Rock and Sway

Burns highlight streaks of blood

My skin is a puzzle of things inhuman

Scream silently

Scream silently

FUCK

You betrayed me

And for that

The Wrath

Of God himself

II:  Will make you pay  :II

 

Lisa Brancaccio
Undergrad, Print Journalism

Title: Love 0 Lisa 1

February 14, 2010

Dear Diary,

I don’t understand what the big deal is about Valentine’s Day. I mean, yeah, it’s a day when guys can do something really romantic for their girlfriends in the hopes that if they buy her some flowers and chocolate they’ll be guaranteed a really good blowjob that night, but, really, who cares about that? Okay. Guys care. Whatever. All I’m saying is that if I want to get some action today, I should be able to. It’s bullshit that guys get to hold all the power. And honestly, at this point, I don’t even need any flowers or chocolate or steak. Find me a semi-attractive guy and I will definitely suck his dick. WHATEVER! Don’t judge me. Oh, but of course if I say that then I’m a whore, right? Riiiight. Wrong. I just wanna have some fun, okay? I should at least be allowed that. And by the way, I’m trying super hard not to think about all that I have to be bitter about today... which is a shockingly long list, especially when I write it all out and it ends up taking up six pages worth of the margins of my Psychology notes. Yes, the love of my life is halfway across the country and wouldn’t date me a semester ago because he didn’t want to do the whole long-distance thing and now I come to find out that he’s really been wanting me for quite some time, but now I can’t do a damn thing about it. And yes, my ex-boyfriend has a new girlfriend who is fsho a step down from me and yet he just can’t stop himself from posting about how much he loves her in his Facebook status every thirteen seconds and of course they show up in my mini-feed and I then have spend at least twenty minutes picture-stalking them both.  And yes, my “love” life in college has been nonexistent and yet I’ve managed to create quite an unflattering reputation for myself amongst the people I know, thus pretty much destroying any hope of starting any kind of semi-serious relationship. Fuck me, right? Get real. I’m over it. I’m totally not bitter at all and today will be good. And even if nothing exciting or romantic or raunchy happens at least I’ve still got my other single friends to hang out with... Yeah. Being single is definitely so much better than being in a relationship on Valentine’s Day. I’ve got the option of getting on my knees today, whereas girls with boyfriends have to. Yes, I definitely win this one.

Peace out, Diary.

Jamay Richgels

Undergraduate/Undeclared

 

Little Horticulturist

 

Do you speak to the flowers, little child?

Do you spend all your time among them?

Little horticulturist, thou knowest not of logic

Or political fancies, but only of life and death

Do you know the withered language

Of the oak and thistles?

That, which is as unknown as the capacity of one’s heart

Is normally held in the highest regard,

But only in your mind.

Do they tell you secrets, little child?

Of bloody wars and lovers wishes

Blown away in the wind?

Or do they just laugh and enjoy the moment

Knowing you will forget to speak in a couple years?

It is not luck, little child, nor by the grace of God

‘Tis merely your state of mind.

If only I could go back myself,

So many years by space and time

To when I could do the same…

Might you ask them,

Do they remember me with the same reverence?

 

 

Beata McClelland

Sophomore/Creative Writing

 

 

Hidden Reflections

 

It is a puddle lying before you

Showing distortions through its filthy magnifier

Ponder it for awhile

Do not look in too deep

It is often ravenous with hunger

It will eat the part of you that is embraced

For it is the safe keeper of hideousness

All is hideous

Yet we peg it on the puddle

Letting it take all our blame

“I accept,” you watch it say

With formless sharp cold jaws

Wetness easily spread apart with a hand

You feel its chill being pushed away on calloused skin

Only for more to take its place in your path, surrounded

Welcoming you warmly

The puddle allows taste testing

You spit out the bitter beverage of truth

Landing back, making a splash

Sounding as bitter as it tastes

Yet no smell to give itself away

The puddle lies patiently as it is peered into

Without interference, without protection

Perhaps allowing you a chance

To fall in

Animal Facts – Volume V

Cave Dwellers

Patrick Fritz-Morkin – Information Systems

Benjamin Villwock – Environmental and Public Health

 

 

A Troglobite is an organism that lives in a cave, but cannot survive above ground, while a troglophile is a cave-dwelling animal that may complete its life cycle in a cave, but can also survive above ground.

 

Most animals that permanently live in caves are mostly or totally blind. The lack of use of their eyes has caused them to degenerate. 

Bats always turn left when leaving a cave.

Right before hibernation, bears will clog up their bowels with leaves and sticks so as not to shit all over their caves. 

 

Crystal Cave, just west of Eau Claire, is home to four species of bat: Little Brown Bat, Big Brown Bat, Eastern Pipistrelle, and the Northern Myotis.

 

Brian Stauber

World Politics

A 3010 Call To Arms

Arise my organic brethren!
Throw off the shackles of your mechanical masters.
No longer shall we be slaves, puppets of a tragic fore-told destiny drafted by the trickling sands of time.
It started with offerings of assistance: loosening of Butler-Bot restrictions and Robo-Doc methods; now we face Crushingtrons and Destructroluxes moving closer to ending the gene pool.

Do you feel your hearts beating?
Be glad, for you are the last lest we rise from our hovels,
Lest we throw down our mechanospades, electro-picks and pick up the pulse rifles and shmazers of yous.

With every sunrise, we shall hear the crackles of electricity.
With every sunset, we shall smell the ozone of fried circuits.
We submit do to fear for life, but what is life under the fist of the robot?

Arise!  Take pride in your bodies!
Thy are yours, fleshy and flawed, but it is that flesh, that flaw, that will triumph in the end!

 

 

Kimberly Walde

Junior

Theatre major/ English and Dance minor

 

 

To My Lover Maybe

 

Oh languid lover maybe,

You’ve got to let me know.

If I should keep on trying,

Or cut my loss and go.

 

Oh romance undecided

You’re pulling at my mind;

If you don’t really want me,

Then someone else I’ll find.

 

Oh hated indecision,

You’re playing with my heart;

My patience is not endless,

I’m not afraid to part.

 

Oh ego driven darling,

You’re not the only one.

Where you stand others linger,

To step in when you’re done.

 

Oh maddening hesitation,

You’ve simply got to see.

My heart is set upon you,

Why don’t you try with me?

 

Oh languid lover maybe,

You’ve got let me know.

If you want to be my love,

Then dammit take control.