The School at Church Farm

Literary Magazine

Hidden Talents Exposed

2010-2011

Preface & Dedication “It has been proven time and again that the written word has the power to change nations. We are often taught the power of our words but when do we seize the opportunity to exercise them? Do we dare challenge others or allow for conformity? Do we dare speak when are feeling oppressed? These are questions that baffle us but the CFS Literary Magazine allows for an outlet for our happy but at times troubled souls. So with this, we will let our voices be heard and talents EXPOSED! Only through this philosophy may we enrich ourselves and our community. ~Sebastian De La Cruz “11

A Sincere Thank You

We wish to thank our beloved Mr. Greenblatt, published poet and teacher, for his dedication and countless submissions

to our magazine over the years. Your talents and guidance will be sorely missed.

Poem By: Ray Greenblatt

Birds (A prose-poem)

Occasionally, a bee would rub by a window. Or a half-dead wasp would wander down from the

attic. Rarely, in the mist of early morning a fox would bark from the edge of a field. But birds

dominate the world and seasons. Meadows, woods, mountains. Water and air. Geese fill the sky.

Hawks fall like rocks. The ground explodes in movement and tonalities. A sheet of birds covers

the field then blows away at a click. Air-cluster, bush-wager, earth-hopper. A thousand kinds of

sparrows haunt the nooks of town buildings. In vicious rain birds ply the puddles. In winter the

blue of jay, red or cardinal versus the negative. Sentinels over every private place. Well, swamp,

cemetery. Last tributes to night. Love dances makes branches dance. Dappled with squawking

nests. Waxed orbs of marble and mottled ivory. Leaf augmented by feather. Dotted eye,

sharpened beak. A dead bird on the lane is barely a handful of dust. Mystic dust that comes alive

with sounds and sights beyond comprehension. In violent flurries of wings. Stone-like poses.

Exquisite forms of melody. Winged love bears itself out.

Alden Dirks

Poem By: Christopher Lee Colliers

We Are One

We are one community with endless voices.

We must be sure to hear them.

We make our choices.

Whether we think that they are right or wrong we must stand strong.

Our heads are high and our confidence is held firmly to the ground.

The sounds are different but

We must remember undoubtedly that we are one.

We shall stand hand in hand.

The protection is here in our hearts.

When we’re in a fray,

we must find exactly what to say.

We are one under both the moon and the sun.

We must SPEAK UP!

We know that there is always something that we can and must say.

We must be the voice for someone.

We must strive to be our very best,

have confidence that there’s no time to rest.

We must accept this as our quest.

We must make the right choices and express our many voices

if we want to survive as we truly are

which is one community with endless voices.

Poem By

A lovely

A lovely

An affair which the soul becomes

Like hands intertwined

The lips that feel the

Movements becoming

Eyes meeting in

From this feeling

The desire to hold

So that the brief movement

The last few seconds of

Sebastian M. De La Cruz

lustful affair

lustful affair,

one in a world of halves,

when love is made,

air another may gasp,

one feverish dance,

a lovely glance

grows my desire,

caresses, and permeates,

may come again,

a lovely lustful affair.

Poem By: Mlynue Reeves

Pain echoes though the woods and The morning dew finally settles upon the colorless hills When people speak of this place, there’s a chill. Slowly drifting up to the barren sky The fiery ball of energy love taps the horizon Breathing life to the once dead hills Lifting up the purposeless beings to Live in the fallacy they think is reality.

Poetry by: Matthew Pereira

Butterfly

Dark, ugly cocoon,

Grew tired of living low,

Is now beautiful…

Alden Dirks

Waterfall

Sweet, calm water flow,

Surrounded by serene nature,

Has the power to kill.

Poem By: Brandon Armstrong

Parallel

Destiny

An eternity

Can be felt in a moment

Your heart…

Was it far away?

Because I know that it was there all along

Burst my heart

Parallel

A fragile heart

Worlds

Erupting heart

Are they parallel at all?

I want to feel

Your breath,

Can I feel?

Your touch,

We ask

Were they ever there?

In worlds parallel but ours.

Poem By: Jaemo Lee

Monster

Darkness comes after me

In the names of reality and responsibility.

It takes away my dream, my goals,

and pushes me further into society, a reality

Where no imagination exists and

Where obeying those above me is the rule

A life without freedom

A life that is… sadly… already set.

Poem by: Alden Dirks

Roof

Tepid tin top titter tatter

Acid rain pitter patter

Death is accustomed by noise.

He’s tapping his fingers on your roof

moving like a centipede.

mollifying my woes

I’m laid to rest by the deluge

Don’t swim tepidly

Lay your eyes and crease your wrinkles

and puff and deflate, inflate and flatten

concoct your nepenthe with cacophonous noise

A bricolage of music

Dissolve the maybes

The

Should I, could I? but I didn’t? won’t I?

be a fallen leaf in the river.

The Inner Me Story by: Christopher Mazzoli

Hello, my name is Methias Reginald Edwina Macintosh, (please don’t ask about Edwina, it’s a

long story having to do with a certain bet my father made prior to my birth… but that is a story for

another time.) Let’s see… what can I tell you about me? Well, I’m a sixty-two year old retired

adventure photographer. I made Florida my home after I slipped on some ice and hurt my back…

cold weather is for the young.

After retiring I discovered I didn’t make enough on my investments to live on, so I supplemented

my income by taking a job at Disney World as a roaming photographer. Oh, how the mighty have

fallen. Still, it was a job. The days were full of sunshine and smiley-faced tourists with skin the

color of ripe tomatoes.

Hmmm, what else can I tell you about me... Oh did I tell you I’m a zombie?

That one may have been a bombshell, but then you live in this world just like I did. Or at least you

do until either I, or another like me, makes a meal out of your tasty innards… or enjoys your

delicious brains as fine dining. And trust me, eating brains… well that’s living baby, well undead

living but you get the point.

Being a zombie isn’t as bad as I thought it would be. You want to know what’s bad? Being a

zombie in Disney World. Not for lack of victims, no, I see a fine young woman who must have

fallen trying to get down from a ferris wheel. Her legs appear broken and… is that a bone sticking

out of one of them? Yes, yes it is. Marrow, sweet delicious marrow. If I had saliva I would be

drooling right now… wait? Where was I? Oh, what makes being a zombie in Disney World

suck… the damn music. It’s still playing! I mean, it’s the end of the world and those songs are

still going. How is that possible?

Anyway, did you know zombies think? As you can clearly tell, I am fully cognizant, and I want to

speak. I want to say, “Get the hell out of here lady before I can shamble my way over there and

feast on your brains!” Unfortunately what comes out is, “UghghhhmughsseARGheesphsth.” Must

be something in the disease that disables proper speech, who knows? Well maybe a doctor

somewhere has figured it out but that doesn’t help me and it sure isn’t going to help the young

lady who has noticed me slowly making my way towards her.

Zombies have feelings too. I mean, not physical feelings, the only one I have of those is the

insatiable hunger for brains. I was referring to emotional feelings. Yes, zombies have those. I

know, I know, I didn’t think so either, but here I am, a zombie, and I feel! I mean I had a wife, son

and grandchild for God’s sake and I loved them terribly. True I ate them, but that didn’t mean I

loved them any less. Yes, I feel a lot of things inside, but mostly I just feel excited about chompin

on this woman’s brains… oh those tasty bits of skull and flesh…

If I had enough motor control I would shake my head to clear it, but unfortunately all I can

manage is a shambling gait and spastic twitching.

Why am I telling you this? Well, I am sure you are going to get to know us very soon if you don’t

already and I just thought it was important for you to know zombies are people too. Sure, all we

want to do is suck the marrow from your bones, chew on your flesh and slurp your brains, but

we’re still people doing what people do, just trying to get by.

Now If you will excuse me I have a lunch date with a certain broken-legged young woman…

Love Poetry by: Nolan Soto Swiderski

Mi Amor

Cuando miro en tus ojos, Yo siento

Como la primera vez. Dame una razon porque,

No puedo Parar de pensar en ti.

No puedo siguir mi vida, Si no estoy pensando en ti Solo quiero estar contigo,

Mi amor. Que yo me acuerdo Cuando eramos solo

Tu y yo, En este mundo!

My Love

When I look in your eyes, I feel like it’s the first time.

Give me a reason why, I cannot

Stop thinking of you. I cannot continue my life, If I’m not thinking of you I only want to be with you,

My love According to me

When we are alone You and I,

In this world!

Poem By: Jerry Emery

Darkness encumbers my mind….

Voices, yelling, screaming, fighting with each other

There is never any silence

They rule me,control me, I am their puppet.Fighting over me like I‘m a toy that each must

Touch,have,and posses.

They are all angry, all full of rage….

I can’t fight them, they are to strong

They control my thoughts, make me evil, hurtful, and sad….

Leave me be I yell to them

They laugh as one….

The pain, it’s so strong

Over powering, destructive.

It breaks me down, weakens me

Destroys me, burdens me.

There is only one way to silence them

Only one

I smile to myself, they’re not expecting this

I grow tired, sleepy, and all the voices are sleepy too….

No panic, no struggles

I’m at peace…. Photography By Alden Dirks

Poem By: Jaemo Lee Disguises I thought I’d lost you I’ve always missed you Buried in the thoughts of you Clouded by the mist made from my tears. But why? Why did I hear you from the mist? Are you with me? Were you always with me and guiding me? Then why? Why do you leave me? When I’ve finally found you… I know that I have lost you I’ve known that the time is unforgiving I know that it is unbendable So what? Even though my mind says no I want to believe… I want to believe that you are here If it is my blasted mind that says ‘no’ Just disguise your self Deceive me! Do not leave me… For I am already fallen by your wicked disguises Do not leave me… For I shall live with happiness in this fake and foggy world Rather than to go back to the heartless reality…

Poem By: Matthew Pereira

Innocent Love

I feel warm and blush when we look into each other’s eyes,

Brining my stomach the gushy feeling of pretty butterflies.

Holding hands with kisses to the cheek,

Makes my whole body numb and weak.

Seeming certain that there is no other Love to seek.

Hearing her say “I Love You. You make me whole,”

Just thickens the fog covering my virgin eyes,

To the core of my naïve soul,

To the fog that shelters me from the real truth in Love,

Making me trust and believe everything she says and does.

Giving her all I have to offer,

Leaves me vulnerable and exposed,

In denial of how this relationship will never suffer.

Once the fog clears from my eyes,

That young Love also dies.

Poem: By Paula Brown

Poem by: Paula Brown

We heard a shot We froze in fear

It was a deer Maimed by Traffic

Death was not quick Pained eyes stilled Only when killed

On the neighbor’s lot

Not in my backyard

Poem By: Vinceht GChanglerth

One Hour There’s screaming and spitting and all these awful things. The things I can’t deal with, I start with panicking. Let me tell you that if I had one hour to live, I hope that’s enough time for love to give. With an hour to live, I would laugh that laugh, And on top of that maybe I might cry. I would dance that dance and sing that song, I would learn to smile and not feel wrong. Who am I to say that I don’t feel love? Maybe I feel free as a dove. I love my family and my friends too. My heart will be strong and forever new. With an hour to live, I will find out who I am. I will build imagination and fly like Peter Pan. I will learn to write and learn to speak. I will not be shy; I will not be weak. With an hour to live, I will fight for human rights. I can’t take the wrong lightly I can’t take wrong right. Men and women have responsibility We shall work till death, and fight for the needy. So what would you do if you had an hour to live? Rethink your life; have you given a gift? Have you fought for rights? Have you gone to school? Have you not been shy? Have you been a fool?

Poem By: Clayton Cogmon

What is Life?

Is it something that you are forced to do, or maybe something you are

meant to do?

Is it a curse, a privilege, or a right?

Or is it so precious that the thought of losing something so precious

would be terrifying?

Like losing your mother, sister, or daughter.

Like losing your father, brother or son.

Like losing yourself.

What is Life?

Life is us.

Poem By: Jaemo Lee

Burdensome Expectations A good son,

Who studies

Who get all A’s

And becomes a doctor.

That is the expectation.

What my parents want,

It is their wish,

Their happiness and dream.

But what about me?

Is that my expectation?

My happiness? My dream?

I look up at the ceiling with a sigh.

I wish for a pair of wings

That can take me out of my room

Where I can breathe for the first time

To take me to the world of my dreams

Where I can do anything I want

Where freedom exists

Where I don’t feel any burden

But I know they do not exist.

The only thing I know is that

My parent’s expectation is my burden.

A’S STUDY STUDY STUDY STUDY…

MY PARENT’S WANTS!

THEIRS! THEIRS!

THEIRS! THEIRS! WHAT ABOUT ME? MY EXPECTATIONS!

MY! MY! MY! MY!

SIGH TAKE ME OUT OF MY ROOM FOR THE FIRST TIME!

MY DREAMS ANYTHING I WANT

FREEDOM ZZZZZZ

Horizon D’Tret

I walk alone in the world Ghost of my world

Surrounding me Tainted Purity

White mask I lie alone, without a home Rejected by good and evil

Red tears of my wings Don't leave me again

Without a shining moon There is no sun to turn to

I belong nowhere my parallel existence

King Mitus Blessed fortune

My touch leaves hatred Time is only a palindrome

Dark memories Dark premonitions

I can take it anymore Rejected by life and death

Walking a crossroad Population 1

Rejection of all Where do I fall

searching for my home endless nightmare

too dark too bright

yet no sunlight never ending loneliness

please awake from your mind I walk alone in the world

Ghost of my world

B. Armstrong

Sun Ook Kim

“

15° Theorem”

My educator Philip Baig passed on this maxim, his refined concept, “Regardless of any exterior influences, be yourself…. yet do not be emotional. Stay at a cool temperature, fifteen degrees exactly.” The theorem suggests we aspire to be like mold-less jell-o: an infinitely malleable substance that keeps its temperature and refuses to take the shape of external constraints. Through this mentor, I came to clarify my passion – to understand the sine qua non of my freedom and identity. Style. A significant part of my DNA. True style, I discovered, only exists in the eye of its beholder; a man has no style until he has invented his own. Indeed, the prevalent “copy and paste” method of style held no value. My subsequent forays into fashion taught me not only an array of lessons – business, art, color, technology, writing – but, more significantly, to live with an open mind. The expansion of my closet into new colors, fabrics, and directions mirrored the diversification of my ideas, my spirit. As fashion clothed my self-concept, these clothes – my inimitable style – came to represent more and more of the unique crystalline structure within me. I began to define my own values: refusing to be dictated to by others or shackled by trends. This newfound authenticity elucidated a career goal: fashion entrepreneur. Philip is a perpetual fifteen-degree gift and my inspiration. Through him, I became the sculptor of my life; the creator of my own designs and the designer of my own creation.

Prose by: Jeff Watt

Aguilar

Why Did the Cow Jumped Over The Moon, You Ask? A Cottage Prefect’s Reflections

(While reading, keep in mind that the setting is Cowland, a place that is not on earth but only in Jeff Watt’s Imagination.)

People have asked this question for centuries, “why did the cow jump over the moon?”

Well I have the answer; but before I tell you, we require the background story regarding said “cow”, the one which everyone has come to know and love. Her name is Lulu and at the time of the jump she was seventeen years old, a mere adolescent. She wasn’t popular or athletic, she wasn’t captain of the chess team, or the president of the Business club, and she wasn’t a beautiful cow cheerleader or a fierce cow ball player. The only club for which she was a member was the tea club; it’s pretty self explanatory, they drink tea. Lulu’s dad worked for a company, in a rather nice but painstakingly normal cubicle and her mother sold real estate on the side, but as for Lulu, there was nothing spectacular about her at all. One fine and special day in the town of Cowland, every cow gathered outside for the year’s annual cow ball homecoming game. Everyone in town was there, not necessarily cheering for the cow ball team (they were awful), but anticipated the halftime show. That evening, the event customarily featured the most well-known stunt cow in the world, Evil Cow Evil. Everything was running smoothly, however, something went seriously wrong. Evil Cow Evil made his first entrance to watch the second quarter of the game when an evil monkey from the next opposing team wickedly threw a banana peel right into his path; poor Evil Cow Evil slipped on the peel and broke his front-left hoof, making it impossible from him to perform this year’s stunt, something so daring that so… (I will stop here because you know where I’m going with this). So yeah, he was rushed to the Cowmergency room and never heard from again… that night. The entire town was worried that they had wasted their time to watch this year’s game, since the Cow ball team was awful; one cow even got angry and decided to spray her milk on any one within a 10 foot radius! Surprisingly, the last person that anyone would ever think would pull a Cow Evil Cow stunt like jumping over the moon stepped up to save the day. It was Lulu, the ordinary cow girl, the girl cow that wasn’t popular, not president of the yearbook club or the literary magazine, known for nothing! But she stepped up and said “I’ll do it”. Don’t get me wrong, Lulu wasn’t a loser and people didn’t dislike her. She was just there; everyone was astonished that she even spoke. Cows whispered, “she has a voice?” and “she’s crazy, she doesn’t even play a sport, how can she possibly jump over the moon?” For the first time in her life Lulu had confidence. No, she had not been practicing jumping secretly and she did not have some sort of body enhancement, she just, for that split second, believed in herself.

Lulu then steadily made her way out to the middle of the cowfield where a trampoline and other launching devices that Evil Cow evil was going to use had been placed. She then bent down as if she was about to jump over the moon, and sprang up and when her feet were lifted from the ground at such a high velocity, it made an indent in the field about ten feet wide. She went up, and up, and up, taking her a full 20 minutes. The town watched her with binoculars as she went faster, she caught fire; she finally made it to the moon, went over it, proceeded to descend back down to earth, and then landed perfectly on her feet. Everyone roared with cheerfulness and joy, chanting “Lulu, Lulu”! When she landed, being the modest r cow she is, she proceeded grab her stuff and go home, knowing she had just done a great thing but just regarded it simply as “playing her part”. So why did the cow jump over the moon you ask? Well simple, the cow, whose name was Lulu, did it to “play her part in the community”. An example that we should all step up and do our chores every Tuesday, Thursday and Sunday and buy Jeff Watt food when he asks because at the end of the day it’s not like he’s asking you to jump over the moon or something.

Poem By: Tyler Szabo

To Be A Man

If you work with every ounce of your might, while Those around you just fade into the oblivion of daydreams,

If you hold your head high, While all those around you mock your existence;

If you hold your virtues close to your heart, Or if you are being challenged, do not fall back, but embrace it,

Even if you lack the physical or mental aptitude: If you can set aspirations – without them becoming impossible dreams;

If you can expound upon your intellect – without forgetting to transmute it into wisdom; If you can see that success is the sole determiner of right and wrong,

Without taking your endeavors to the extreme; If you can see the truth

Through the forest of lies people will tell you, To see the things you held true ripped asunder,

And take up the pieces and sew them with the truth to form your own opinion: If you can take all that you have

And see what you can use to gain without opening a door to weakness, And even if that door is opened – you plug it up with everything you have,

And to only rely on the strength of others if you can give all that was give back; If you accept death

Eve n in face of your own, While all others weep,

Smile and know you have done all you can do: If you can keep your wits about you – even with those who would corrupt you,

Or become more powerful – but do not forget those, whom you stood upon to achieve it, If you rise do more than your duty and become more,

If you can feel compassion, without letting it sway your judgment; If you take the world around you and bend into your vision of a better world

With nothing but the mental and physical vigor you have, You were given this Earth to rule over and make better,

And – which is more – you will be a man!

Poem By: Anh Nguyen (based off of Kipling’s ”If…”)

hen…

en you love someone and love her everything,

From her face to her voice to her character, When you like what people don’t like about her, Or when you find yourself staring at her from afar And smile for no reason…

n you know your heart will never beat so hard

When you meet someone else that isn’t her; When you never twist your brain so hard for another girl; Only she appears in your dreams; And she’s the only one you think about When you listen to sad songs;

that person wants to leave you,

You’re ready to let her go, And keep your love inside your heart just for you, And keep your love inside your heart just for you, Not because she is of no importance to you, But because you know that, When she is happy you yourself are happy… There are many things else in love, But when you accomplish these things, They you know you truly love someone…

W     Wh 

    Whe 

    When 

Prose by: Thitpat Suksirithanun

MY PIANO AND ME

I speak in three different languages: Thai, English, and music. Of all three, I enjoy

speaking music the most because it tells about my life. Like any other life, mine is full of

crescendos and decrescendos. Sometimes, I have to put a rest or a fermata in there to find

peace within myself through music. Being in one’s own comfort zone is great, but in order to

make music, one must take risks.

I grew up in a family that had no musicians, but one day my parents decided to take my

brother and me for piano lessons. If I had realized that I would grow to love music, perhaps I

would have been more enthusiastic about the lessons. Piano requires solid basic knowledge of

its theory, a tree that needs strong roots. Like piano, the basics of my life are also a tree, with

strong ethical and moral roots. This is what my mom means when she advises, “don’t only live in

the books, you must be able to apply what’s in them too!” So, my goal is to somehow use my

knowledge to reach out and help my family, my community, and myself. How well I do that I

regard as my “talent”.

I still vividly remember the day when my teacher, Reiko Yamadera, played for me

Beethoven’s sonata op. 13 no. 8 “Pathetique” and asked me if I wanted to learn it. She also

warned me that I would not have time for anything else except to learn this piece. I said that I

wanted the challenge, even though my experience was not good enough for the piece, but my

passion claimed it. That moment was similar to an account in my life when I decided to travel to

study in America. I was really excited to go to America, but the process was not so easy: much

difficulty was involved. It reminded me of my struggles to learn the Pathetique sonata, beginning

on the first bar of the music. However, I could not stop playing because I was determined not to

give up on what I began to love. I practiced, practiced, and practiced until the time came to

perform. I stepped onto the stage full of spotlights, ready, but disconcerted. My mind was in the

middle of a dreamy reality that seemed unsettled and confused. I turned and stared towards the

audience whose eyes glimmered like stars in the night.

I gave them a nice bow, sat on the chair, slowly inhaled, and started to play. Striking the first c

minor chord, I was separated from the world that was apart from the piano and me. I was one

with the piano…still, at times, I felt separated from it, like a lovebird that can never be together

with the other. The nine-minute piece felt like a lifetime.

My struggles with the piece had no end until I was in the spotlight again, but this time at my new

school in America. The audience was a lot smaller in size but still had the same expectant eyes.

At that recital, I played a piece that was a lot easier, but what was different was not how I played,

it was the audience. When the recital was over, my math teacher came up to me and said, “you

have made my night.” A new piece of music was awakened inside of me. I was now one with the

piano. I wasn’t exhilarated because of my pride but because I now understood the purpose of my

music. It was for me to reach out to my community through my music.

Now, it is time to move on again, right after I have just settled in. This goal will be far more

ambitious than any other in my past. It will be a challenge, as with a piece of music, but it will be

a great experience nonetheless. I am back to where I was again, in Ms. Yamadera’s room where

a decision has to be made. The only difference is that I now know my purpose and will protect it.

It is time for me to take another risk.

Poetry By: Carol Forbes

Brokenness

Inability to remember and cherish the splendor, glory and magnitude of The Gift!

All of My Love, All of My Love,

Mom

In Loving memory Of

Steven Robert Forbes May 17, 1984 - March 24, 2009

 

Hidden Talents Exposed

2010-2011

A Special Thanks To: Paula Brown, Marcia Carnes, Adam Centeno, John Choi, Clayton Cogmon, Alden

Dirks, Jerry Emery, Sun Ook Kim, Vinceht GCanglerth, Jaemo Lee, Chris Mazzoli, Anh Nguyan, Matthew Pereira, Mlyune Reeves, Ronald Scheuermann, Thitipat Suksiritarnun,

Yu Sun, Nolan Soto Swiderski, Tyler Szabo, Kelechi Umunna, Seoho Yi, Jeffery Watt

To our Staff: Brandon Armstrong Geoffrey Bapteau

Christopher Lee Colliers Sebastian M. De La Cruz

Franky Mills Sarah O’Neill

Sumner Siebels

CFS The School at Church Farm 1001 East Lincoln Highway

Exton, PA 19341 www.gocfs.net