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My Mom’s Name is Christine: a poem

By ANDREW NGUYEN Staff Writer We brood on breaking news, Work to that tick-tock routine, ‘til it all seems like the world is ready To fall abyss, when a mist Blows over our shoulders, And our arms, melted malt and, vanilla-boned, strike stiff like sweaty sticks For popsicles by the sun, And in this cancer...

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If My Cranium Were a Daisy: a poem

By ANDREW NGUYEN Staff Writer With each wilting flower, The new day dawns And the sun’s blonde hair, ever so slowly, Seeps into the skyline, each moment, A little bit further, a little bit further. But dusk will return, seasons the same! Sure, but never again will petals un-bloom And seeds un-sprout, for certain, Dusk...

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Marinara: a poem

By ANDREW NGUYEN Staff Writer You ever walk into Albertsons, and into the sauce aisle of the store, And you browse around the shelves, to find a purpose reborn, When you come across marinara, and the label says “Best in Town!” So you listen to the sauce, and say “Hey, I guess I’m down,” And...

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Yeezy: a poem

By ANDREW NGUYEN Staff Writer Encage my claws of hands, and I will hurdle my feet for them Yeezys, Throw my feet in a ditch, and I will bash my skull for them Yeezys, Knot my head down to a table, and I will gnaw through metal for them Yeezys, Yank out my fangs, and...

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Train of Thought: a poem

By ANDREW NGUYEN Staff Writer I have a big mouth and I talk a lot. I just run off with an idea, and I can’t seem to stop. It’s like in movies, when a damsel’s tied to train tracks, And the train is coming, and it’s coming real fast, And the train keeps blowing its...

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Pockets: a poem

By ANDREW NGUYEN Staff Writer I’ve got pockets with pennies, nickels, quarters, and dimes A million different coins in my pocket, And I still can’t seem to buy, Something that everybody wants, and scraps for at the end of the day, And we ask if we have it, When we’re all alone and it’s late,...

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Stranded on an Island: a poem

By ANDREW NGUYEN Staff Writer I have what I need, but not what I yearn, But for stranded on an island, I could be worse, I mean the view’s bleak as gravy, but I have enough to eat, And the sand wreaks like pretty bad, but at least it’s a beach, And it’s not like...

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Margaret: a poem

By ANDREW NGUYEN Staff Writer Inches away, my Margaret, With your beautiful brunette locks, And your beautiful brown crests for eyes, You were inches away, my Margaret. But the pearl to my oyster, dear Margaret, She garners golden threads, And has sights like the Caribbean, Aye, she is the diamond I mine for. I wish...

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Boy: a poem

BY ANDREW NGUYEN Staff Writer   Billions upon billions of people, With even more planets, And to each one, a star, For there are billions of those, Belonging to one of the billion galaxies, In this gaping and edacious universe, And I, a boy. A boy birthed to two benevolent parents, Loved by compassionate friends,...

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French Girls Love Starbucks: a poem

BY ANDREW NGUYEN Staff Writer Aye, a brisk day of twenty-fourteen, And I a young lad, Upon the brink of 5:30 PM And I shivered a tad, Thus I marched towards Starbucks, And took a seat inside, When this brilliant girl walks in, And I find a place to hide, With seconds to think, I...