Trans Specific Sigils




Allie and Maddie


By Alessandria Adkison


Allie you’re a

Chosen child you’re mine but

Not by birth

But just the same

We feel good knowing

We have each

Other to cherish

And to hold

You’re also a priceless

Precious pearl

Maddie you are

Also a chosen child

You’re  also mine

But not by birth

But to have you

Is a blessing that

I thank god

For everyday


Born of Gold


By Fiona Rose


Born of gold from the sun was her hair


beautiful as the pink roses her skin was fair


Eyes brighter than the moon, and bluer than the bluest ocean afar


her eyes held such beauty like that of a star


lips a dark scarlet like that of a rose spoke words of devotion to the lover she chose


born of angels tears and God’s grace


she was born an angelic pure beauty dressed


in fine linen and lace



Everyone’s version of success is different. What do you want?

Where do you see yourself?

Do you let the opinion of others affect you?

At the end of the day?

Are they the ones making your dreams come true?

The way you face things is up to you?

Will you leave this world feeling accomplished or blue?



By Aristotle


Seattle the city I call home

Seattle oh Seattle is the place in which I roam


I walk down the street yelling ftp

Hoping that the pigs will hear my screams


Up and down the avenue

Doing the all the stupid things we do

Smoking and joking about how we’re shortening our lives

Hoping and groping at the air for a chance to rise


You can’t catch us you can’t match us

Even if we’re far behind

You can’t beat us won’t defeat us

Even though we’ve lost our minds

New Chapter


by Lil Richie

What some would call a midlife crisis; I would call a new chapter

A new leaf but all that’s new is circumstantial

Me against the world, but why sign a treaty when I’m enjoying the battle

Ain’t even trynna win just make time pass faster

Some say I look lost but being lost is nothing more

Than blindly walkin through a new area to explore

Discoveries made, everyday tells me what’s in store

Just make it something cheap that I can afford

Don’t be such a tease flaunting all the fancy gadgets

That I can’t get, but if I had them

It’d probably get stolen the next day, that’s how Seattle is

Karma real? If not then I’ma handle it

I shouldn’t have to tho

Cuz if it’s real the chapter’s on-

ly temporary

But it stays cold as February

Might get better never-ary

It’s real life you can gamble yours to the cemetery

“Being over daring”

Proceeds the word “cause” in your obituary

Lotta ways to go if you ain’t watchin where you steppin

Parents blame technology for stealin our attention

From a lesson, from a message

Skimming over everything to see the next chapter

To Live is to Suffer -Therasa Dreamer


To live is to suffer;

 to survive is to find meaning in the suffering

-Viktor E. Frankl

Living is not always a cake walk as some feel it should be. The only things that made my life easier was accepting my struggles, trusting my journey, and know that without the bad and the hard times I would not see the true beauty in the good times. Without the bad times how would the good time hold signifigance? If we were unable to experince anything other than “good” times people no longer would place any value on joy, happiness, or success. As humans we would not appericate good times without the ability to compare them to the bad times.

Life is filled with lessons this is one of the many that I have had to learn through my own experinces and trials. This is by far one of the lesons that has influenced my life the most!

I am Me by Ruby


You may look at me and judge me

With your thoughts and what you see

You may knock me down until I fall

Still, like always, I’m me

Does my intelligence upset you?

Why are you so down and blue

Cause I’m smart and I’ve got class

With a wise soul that grew

Just like waves and like fire

With the promise of the wind

Just like honey oh so sweet

Still I’m me

Did you want to see me in vain?

Far gone and yet distraught

Lost and headed a different away

A war I never fought

Does my elegance intimidate you?

don’t you see it in me

Cause I’m sharp like I’ve got diamonds

In the depths of the blue sea

You may kill me with your looks

You may kick me in my knees

You may break me with your animosity

Still, like always, I’m me

Out from the shadows into the light

I’m me

Away from darkness from the night

I’m me

I’m a strong mountain standing tall

Climbing and reaching yet to fall

Throwing away fear and doubts

I’m me

Into a tunnel searching for light

I’m me

Bringing in the hope that was once apart of me

I am the dream that I never believed

I am me

I am me

I am me

I Hid


I am happy… no

I act happy… no

I try to act happy…

i hope that
no one sees it
in my face
on my breath

the cheap vodka
i chugged greedily
right before i
stepped in the door

right before they
warned us
shelter will close
if one more bottle

one more needle
or cap is
found in the building
and even after

i walked back
saying i wanted
to get coffee
so i could

sneak another
few swigs as i
hid behind
the doorway

Parallel Mission


Dreamin’, I let my thoughts drift away overseas,
still, no one will follow me or even fathom the challenge,
I test the balance,
swoop up all intuitions in my talons,
slice away reality, embrace the illusory,
paint a picture so vivid I’m livin’ in lucid dreams,
where space and time don’t matter,
atomic waves will splatter, like scrambled eggs on platters,
I’m climbing the ladder – downwards,
and some might say that’s just some backwards steps,
so let me catch my breath to descend in ocean depths,
strokin’ the flow of water, to travel in motioned reps,
in the deep blue jazz, bumpin’ rhythmic beats eternal,
tones reborn from the ash, at the core of Earth’s inferno,
thermal vision spots the incision of plasmatic cracks in the crust where temperatures risen, a higher realm where colors ain’t on the prism,
unlock the mind escapin’ this prison,
that’s what I recommend when visitin’ the parallel mission.



By: Symphany

sitting, pondering the essences of life and its greater meaning. what does it all mean? do i have some purpose? what makes life well, life? lively? i want to know.

is there some great beyond or are we really alone and merely just a speck of dust that will soon wither and die only to decompose in the ground. do we simply just live then die and are stuck in the ground, the end, no greater something after the years on earth being “alive.”

i hear all around different answers with similar qualities that lead me to be hopeful.

hope. such a small word with big meaning. hope seems to be the strongest or weakest aspect of life and of humans. is life living hopefully? i don’t know. i seem to ponder these thoughts but never getting closer to the answer only further away. floating further away, as if a strong wind is carrying me away to a greater beyond. one can only hope that i find what it means to be alive in this lifetime.

The Fox and the Moon – By Thomas Hermsen


The Fox and the Moon                                           By: Thomas Hermsen

Deep in  the forest of Olivnor, there lived a fox. This fox was not like other foxes, for they were sly and cunning. This fox enjoyed marvelous and great things, and was very greedy. One day the fox was drinking from a pond and a raven flew and settled on a nearby branch.

“Hello there my dear friend! How are you?” The raven cawed out to Fox.

“Do not bother me Raven, for I shall eat you if you get in the way of my day.”

Raven ignored Fox’s threat and cawed out in a more gentle tone.

“Some little hare I saw said you enjoy great things, truly amazing things, am I correct?”

Fox paused from his drinking and looked up at Raven; “Yes, and you have something that may interest me?”

“Yes friend, if you shall fulfill what I ask of you. I shall give you the moon!”

Fox looked straight up and though he is not the smartest fox, had doubts.

“How shall you give me the moon? Isn’t it impossible?”

Raven shook his head; “So you shall question it? Well then, I shall forget about fulfilling this and I shall leave now,” Raven said, and started to flap his wings.

“Wait Raven! What do you ask of me? What do you need?”

Raven stopped and chuckled; “You shall bring me three objects. But there will be a challenge retrieving these.”

“Anything Raven,” Fox said, standing determined.

“First bring me a wedge of cheese from the castle’s kitchen, only a few miles south from here. I will wait here for your return.”

Fox darted south, opposite of where the moss grows, and made it to the castle walls. There was a small crevice at the foundation that Fox could squeeze through. After that he would have to sneak into the kitchen to retrieve the wedge of cheese.

He kept low to the ground and crawled across the ground to the gates.

“Alas! A creature from wild! Kill it!” Yelled a townswoman.

The guards set upon the fox, and chased him into the castle, through the hallways-  and into the kitchen. Fox snatched the cheese in his muzzle and escaped the kitchen, only to have the cook slash his tale off with a butchers knife.

Fox barely made it back to Raven with his life, and dropped the cheese

at the base of the tree.

“Damn you Raven! Look at my tale!”

“I do not see your tale, but you have returned bravely and earned a slice of cheese.” Raven dropped down and pecked off a chunk from the cheese wedge. Fox gulped it down.

“Now you have been nourished, and must venture to retrieve another item.”

“I see, what do you want?”

“You must travel to the Ferclasp Brewery, four miles to the north, and retrieve a fine bottle of wine.”

“May I get a drink of that wine?” Asked Fox.

“No questions, now go!”

Fox journeyed to the brewery, and did not see anyone about. So he walked into the brewery and snatched a bottle of wine in his muzzle. He turned around and left, only to step on some broken glass, he whimpered and limped all the way back to Raven. It was getting late.

“Damn you Raven! Look at my paw!”

“Your paw will heal soon, but you have returned bravely and earned a drink of wine.”

Fox gulped the wine and dropped the bottle at the base of the tree, alongside the wedge of cheese.

“Now you have one final task, and may it be the most adventurous. If you shall return, you shall be a hero.”

Fox liked this idea very much, and quickly forgot about his bleeding paw.

“You shall venture to the underground city of rats, and retrieve the golden crown of their king!”

“Ha! That shall be easy! For they are only rats!”

“Take this poison, you may need it. Now make haste!” And with that, Fox ventured to the cities storm drains, back in the castles town.

So he limped and wept, and crawled through the crevice. Everyone was asleep so he was in luck. Fox crawled through the storm drain and dropped into the muddy bank.

For a while he travelled through the dank halls of the sewers, beginning to wonder if he was in the wrong place. But in a dark corner of the chamber he was in, he saw two glowing yellow eyes.

Fox was wrong, they weren’t just rats, they were humongous. And they were dangerous too. He then thought of a plan.

“Dear friend, I wish to praise your king, I wish to join you!”

“Are you the one that received our letter?” The rat hissed.

“Y-yes,” Fox trembled.

“Then follow me.”

Fox followed the rat through the city, and they passed many ugly creatures and horrifying sights.

“Go in there, and we are watching you.” The rat pushed Fox into a large hall.

“’What are you waiting for, come in,” a frightening voice boomed through the hall.

Fox gulped and walked through the hall towards the voice. Up some very large stairs, he saw the golden crown glint in the candle light.

“Hmm, you are a fox, wishing to join the rat order. Very strange I must say. But where are my manners, I am the king, and I will be your king soon enough. We are about to eat and we hope that you may join us, then we will begin your initiation.”

“Of course my lord.”

“How about a tour of your new home, eh?”

“Yes my lord, it would be an honor.”

“Theseus! Show our new friend around.”

“Yes my king.”

Fox Followed the rat named Theseus through the chambers and halls of the rat kingdom. When they entered the kitchen, Fox slipped the poison Raven had given him into the king’s goblet. After the feast Theseus showed Fox his bed.

“I don’t trust you filth. I’m gunna keep all eyes peeled!” The rat spat and then he left.

Fox then waited  for the poison to take effect, at midnight.

He snuck through the halls into the king’s chamber and realized that he was dead. He snatched the crown from the body and snuck back out into the sewers and to the surface and back to the forest. As he made way to the pond raven was nowhere to be found.

“Raven are you there?”

Raven then appeared from the sky and landed on his usual branch. The moon was high in the sky, full and bright.

“So you have returned! And alive, you are a true hero, and shall all of the creatures of the forest know of it! Now I will land in front of you, and you shall place the crown on my head.” Raven landed and Fox placed the tiny crown on his head.

“You have fulfilled the trials and have earned your reward.”

“Where is my moon, oh Raven?”

“Look at the reflection in this pond, there is your moon” and with that Raven flew away.

feel it by Asia Lee


open your eyes

you will never understand how breathtaking it feels to feel the normalcy of body functions that aren’t deprived from narcotics.

I’ve got the scars right here.

my body is littered with imperfections,

I’ve got fines in collections

rude to the dude hootin & hollering.

don’t bother calling they all seem to misplace their morbid salutations… they end up on my lap.



By J.D

I know it is wrecking

Shredding everything

That holds you; helpless like

There is no comparison to be


And through all the begging

You’re still aware.

But there is a somber

beauty you have yet to

Come too. Like when you

Start crying but somehow

You end up laughing because

All you want is to feel that


You have forgotten how to

Feel something else; or have just

Stopped caring. And your

Body tries to interrupt that.

That demise of your person.

The mind showcases how

“thick skulled” it can be

And triggers the complete

Opposite emotion.


Lamb Chops


By Jordan Van Nortwick

Missions improbable

Cigar smoke and monocles

The chocolate is audible

Plucking hair follicles

Writing zine articles

Sheath un-knifing

Teeth brush shiny

Dentist mouth grimy

Down under I go

Laughing gas? No

Mario’s my plumber

Chewing mushrooms and coins

Started out as jumper

Oedipus said Freud

2 x’s on dad’s eyes

I’m on the tele live

Missions compromised

Nobody survived

Comic Jam 1#


We have a guest artist, Mita Mahato, who does an amazing comics workshop with us. We do a comic jam- each one of us does a panel and then passes it to the next person. Together we create a (hilarious) story.

You can see Mita’s art here:

Close Friends

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Merry Christmas by Silva


I can’t wait to have you come home son

I just want to sit you down

Really spell out why I love you

Really have you hear me this time

You want me to love you in this exact way

Im not here to entertain you

Ask me something I will do it

But only after you ask



So I ask.

Okay let’s build a zip line, a tree house, play a board game

Let’s go capture the world

If you want to really sit me down

Remember when you picked me up

I wasn’t the only one who was there

Christmas morning

We unwrapped silence together

Not radio silence, no static

Physical weight of your silence

You wanted to hurt us

You wanted to say

It’s your fault why I feel rejected

My time,

My time Elliott, when it’s my time it’s my time

30 minutes

While smiling sons and daughters enjoyed their childhood for 30 minutes

You could fit a sun in that eternity

The pain was so dense the son you did want

Turned into a black hole

Go ahead sit me down

Chin up, chest out, lips pursed

Go ahead hug me

I dare you

I wonder if you timed it out

I bet you did

I bet you waited exactly an hour

Weighed out the silence, made sure it was double

A half hour of silence for son

A half hour of silence for daughter

Merry Christmas


God Is Real by Alyisha Wilson


Most people may think I’m crazy or may even agree with what I’m about to say , God is real and He is here with every single one of you who is reading this blog and I feel that He wants me to tell you that He loves you.

God and Jesus my Lord and Savior has helped me through multiple obstacles and helped me to better my inner-self and my outer-self which to me is amazing. The grace and peace that He provides is like nothing in this world I’ve ever come in contact with.

For instance God has helped me with one of my biggest obstacles which is definitely being homeless. He has helped me accomplish a roof over my head and also all the things I’m going to need, for instance my apartment being fully furnished and it being a gated community and low income housing. It is such a tremendous blessing coming from nothing at all and barely a dollar in my wallet.

Also I’d love to tell you about the most important thing which is definitely Him working in me and changing me to become a better person and treat others how I want to be treated. Also it’s not just that but it’s a mind thing- I have extreme negativity problems. In my case, very extreme but He’s helped me to change my mind frame and think positively through the bad and the good times because in the end everything happens for a reason and He is always in everything. He makes it a brighter situation if you just have a bright perspective.

My conclusion is that no matter what happens in life everything is better with God and He can fix any problem. He can cure any sickness He can help anyone who is hurting or needs assistance of any sort. All you have to do is call on Him and consistently seek Him. M y favorite verse from the bible is that “He already knows us and has called us by name and He has handpicked each and every one of us.” We need too help our brothers and sisters of the world to get home to Him. So, I just want to say I hope you have a very blessed rest of your day and remember you’re highly blessed and favored. Thank you for reading!

Grandmother, Grandmother by Anton Summers


Living in a house with emotions and feelings,Trying to get over the depressing appeals,Seeing your grandmother present multiple catastrophes in the rage of anxiety.

 The color of her skin is like dirty tan paint, the roughness of her flesh presents the scales of a poisonous snake.

 Her eyes are dim like the windows of a house, her strength is like quicksand and soft soil which melts to the ground.

 Her jaw is like the heaviness of a brick which gives her pain when she speaks, her life is at its fine end like a decaying roof of an ancient house of the old times, when you touch it, it falls like dust to the ground.

 When it’s over she will meet her creator and face the reality that she will live in a place much worse, hell to be exact, it will eat her like a lion eats its prey, she will never see the outside of the those gates unless she gets saved before that day.

 What is your life is it like my grandmother’s and like a deserted house or is it much more, like a new house that was just built.

What are you?

What are you?

What are you?



Trust by J.V.C.


You don’t need to save me cause y’all just play me

Call me ignorant, lazy, but y’all are just being shady

Trust and believe me I’m not being greedy

But it’s my hunger for life you’ll be seeing

You ask what trust means and best believe me

It’s when I can believe everything is safe for me

But it’s always your envy I see in thee

It’s your jealousy in you that’s gonna deflate me

So when you walk by me and I don’t respond fellas

Don’t act like the world’s is at its end and hells broke loose fellas

If you only seen or been thru the stuff I’ve seen fellas

Then trust and believe there’s a reason when I block y’all off fellas

Untitled by shadow


dancing in a midnight street.

smoke my only friend, music causing my naivety.

neighbors see me like a fool, i live unending anxiety.

i don’t see the source, oh god this is a war.

i won’t complain tho. i’ve grown to adore my lonely ventures.

there’s a beauty in my torturous pleasure, so don’t chase me down, i know ya wouldn’t anyway.

so all i sing is hey, ayy, if you wanna love me, call me, pull me from the death i love.

A Poem Is by Gucci Squad



A poem is a cheesy pickup line

that always grabs attention

just like a thief in the night

or the slick guy who tripped his ex video on best vines

A poem is telling someone how you feel about them

it will hit them like a crashing wave

A poem is listening to the sounds of a bird chirp

or when the choir singing the greatest hits from up above

A poem is like being inspired by Taylor Swift songs

And going to homecoming with a football player

The feeling you get when you get your first kiss

Or when you ace that test

When all your dreams are suddenly coming true

And you’re too excited to even breathe

A poem is….. The life you create for yourself

I Saved Myself By: Charles


I saved myself the trouble of getting even madder when you showed your face
By telling myself “Hey she’s only human too”…
We all make mistakes
Even though this anger in me has built up like the pressure of steam in a teapot
I might as well be the better person
Forgive and forget
But it’s so hard to pretend that what you did never happened
You said that you loved me
Would never hurt me
But now you say you’re sorry
Weren’t ready for a relationship
And you know what
I think you’re full of it
You just weren’t ready for a commitment
A commitment to just me
But instead you went sneaking around like a snake
Trying to hide its lies
Instead you should have come to me
Told me how you felt

A Letter to My Past Self


by Nat

When you were 17, you went to Chicago, to a conference you didn’t tell your parents you applied to. Your first night there you sat with your friends, the whole hostel cafeteria to yourselves, eating food from a 7-11; when you vowed to never stop fighting to extend the power of knowledge. It was also at 17, in Chicago, that you realized, with wonder, just how big the world could be. You were not built for small towns. Please keep being adventurous and passionate in spite of all unlikelihood. That’s what I learned from you at 17.

Untitled by Tyler


There is no nebulousness,
No floating lack of purpose,
But one single feeling,
A feeling that concentrates all purpose into one point,
Like a dense, collapsing star
A feeling that propels all purpose into one direction,
Direct and coldly efficient,
Coldly efficient and burning, smoldering,
Like fire behind my face,
Like fire behind in my head, in my brain,
Consuming fire, consuming all my thoughts,
The purpose of survival the only thing left in the ashes,
And the feeling of anger consuming my core.

Poetical Gears by Raistlin


Ever since the age of 10 I had poetical gears that would spin in my dome at home. Beginning in gear one with pen at hand as I roam polishing my poetical mind from tin to chrome while feeling like I was in the loony bin in my honeycomb.


The atmosphere was hollow and I was hard to follow but I really was in a transformation into a new tomorrow from a gear one into two as I start anew in a stronger mindset and brighter spirit.


 Now ready to start anew it’s time to shift into gear two. Mixin’ poetical thoughts like stew changing its texture through n’ through til it sticks like glue. I’m tired of feeling blue, it’s time to take off this shoe and walk a new walk in a path chosen by the few with a one of a kind view and good fruits to chew.


 I’m hungry for a transformation down to my very foundation. Food for thought in poetical formation, I feel like i could eat a combination of the earth’s vegetation and music that absorbs my frustration to the point I have a mutation and become a poetical-lyrical genius with an explanation!

Now on gear three of a poetical lyrical spree my imagination accelerates to the finish line like a drag race between a Camaro Chevy and Challenger Chevy. All I can do is go heavy in poetical thoughts in fast forward til I catapult and smack my name as number one  on the board without even using a vocal cord. For there is no need to when pen is mightier than sword and I already sliced n’ diced every unbroken record! 


Now switchin’ it up to gear four it’s time to put the metal to the petal and hit the floor as I rhyme evermore forever more than ever before from the core of every pore when I’m still poor and knocking on opportunity’s door always wanting more so I can show the world what’s in store within the infinite depths of my core and God-fearing spirit that dominates everything in my path as though I were doing hardcore poetical  parkour not touching the floor and breaking every score ‘cause the heavens are the limits and the place I aim for!


 By the time you finish reading this you’ll break the law of physics and your jaw will hit the floor. Because when I wrote this I was homeless but obviously not domeless. I should  bring Einstein back alive to rewrite the statistics of physics while I kick poetical ballistics and my rhymes form a corps and hit the dance floor till the tall clock at the dock by the block hits four and hits five then screams “I never felt so alive!”

Because when I rhyme at the right time in my prime I feel like I’m driftin’ in times upliftin’ as my poetical gears rages on like two all-American-muscle cars demolishing mountains into mole hills. If this isn’t enough to make a 21 year old stoked then I don’t know what will other than a bigger hill!


Life is Like a Car by Micah


Life is like a car built from scratch. If built like a sports-car it will be driven fast, but you will miss most of the best parts in your drive through life.

Life is like a car built from scratch. If built for safety, it’ll stay mostly intact through the drive of life, but won’t be able to keep up with the cars ahead and will eventually be left behind.

Life is like a car built from scratch. If built with limited features, it won’t be driven as much because its uncomfortable for the driver.

Life is like a car built from scratch. If built super-luxurious, its gonna be super expensive to drive on the road and will probably be stolen or vandalized.

Life is like a car built from scratch. If built with missing, broken, or mismatched parts the ride through life will be an unstable and terrifying journey.

Life is like a car built from scratch. If built with a design that is balanced in speed and safety, is comfortable but not excessive and with all the right parts that fit that car for what it is, the ride through life will be perfect.

Life is like a car built from scratch. It will never be able to be built indestructible or with perfect design for every terrain, so always be ready to make repairs.

Life is the only car you ride through this world and its events, so treat it as it is meant something. Take care of it to the best of your ability and never stop riding it. If it gets stolen, find it. If it gets vandalized, use that weakness as a starting point for a new decal. If you crash and are still alive, fix your car. Never stop moving forward and make every mile count.

Flower by Michael


You lie there in your own bloody mess massacred by your shame

You cry out for help and refuse it when it is handed to you

I cannot save you from this mess this dead beaten mess

My time is not centered around the universe but on what I find

You aren’t my second or my last

My first time never started but only ended as soon as it began

My sloppy seconds ended because I was the seconds

You were the first my first for a lot of things I will remember

In the tar pits you left me rotting melting my skin

Burning heat trashing the atoms that have been made

Stripping the flesh from my bones cleaning my body

I scream in your face and you look away

I lay in the ground and rot away by the worms digging at my

Rotting flesh life is gone in sight of a new beginning 

Phoenix vs. Dragon The Deliberation of the Century by Fenix


The two oldest beings in the metaphysical world we are familiar with today are the phoenix and the dragon. Legends of these fantastic mythical creatures predate Babylonian and Egyptian times and can be found all over the world. Each possesses unique symbols and can differ in many cultures, yet may share similarities. Through this chapter we will explore the distinction and interrelation amongst dragons and phoenixes, along with their history.

A good place to start would be the beginning; in a time before man and earth, predating the titans and the gods; the first dragon was born. A dying star conceived an egg that was incubating for a length of time that is unknown to us; and when the hatchling ready to greet the darkness in all it’s glory she ruptured her egg with great haste tearing the star asunder. When she broke free from her parental prison looked back at the star with great sorrow as she saw her parent die

before her. She spoke for the first time in a tongue which we do not know, breathed life into the star.

Cosmic ash and dust enveloped the celestial being, and calmed its cries of pain, and torment, fell into a light slumber for just a few moments. With thy conscience regained the star was born anew with a body of feathers bright and colorful as a rainbow. To her shoulders were majestic wings that spanned a thousand leagues ever-reaching to the heavens, thus the phoenix was born. She thanked the dragon in the same language that saved her life as they went their separate ways.

Now that we covered the history of the two we should see how they are similar. Skipping the obvious facts of how they fly, breathe fire, along with other elements, and consist of different breeds. The respect humans have for them is unparalleled as well as their popularity in toady’s’ culture, from tattoos to movies. The symbolism that is commonly referred to dragons and phoenixes are; longevity, power, wisdom, tradition, and prosperity.

Along with their great power comes great suffering, a common fact that all creatures share under the dominion of man. For centuries phoenixes and dragons have been hunted down for their tears and scales to almost the point of extinction and in order to combat such a fate they kept to their own secluding themselves into the wilds so they may be kings of their domain never to be found by humans again.

With the similarities unveiled the variances of the phoenix and dragon shall be brought to light. The biggest difference of the two is not just one’s a bird and one’s a reptile, but how they are associated in our culture. One example of such is the popularity were dragons reign supreme while the phoenix continues to be the underdog. This fact is evident in movies where you see hundreds of films pertaining to dragons as a main character or the final villain whereas phoenixes are portrayed as a name or a type of finishing move in fighting. The same is true in comic books and you don’t see many tattoos of the mystical bird either.

Although the phoenix may be less popular it is still just as powerful as it is beautiful and brings a wide variety of abilities such as; tears that can heal any wound, blood that can make the one who drinks it immortal, eyes can see through anything and have psychic abilities.

The phoenix is armed with sharp talons and feathers of fire that can cut and rip a dragon’s hide with ease. A phoenix’s greatest attribute is its incredible regeneration to the point of even cheating death. As for dragons they take more of a defensive approach because their scales can be breached by the phoenix’s talons and feathers but getting a fatal strike to a major organ can be tricky. This is because the scales are designed to grow at a slant deflecting most attacks away from the dragon’s vital points and into pinch points in the soft tissue catching the claw or feather making it nearly impossible for the phoenix to get away if its careless.

Another great quality that dragons have is the ability to dislocate their joints to combat their weak spots and using their tails to hold enemies at bay and finishing them off with their powerful jaws. Not only do these mighty reptiles display such amazing offensive and defensive capabilities but they also have powerful five senses. Why only five of them you may ask?

The fact is that their strong defense makes their own sense of touch rather unreliable because of course they need to be able to have a high pain tolerance or they wouldn’t be able to stand up to the attacks they are forced to endure on a daily basis. In contrast, phoenixes can feel even the slightest disturbance in the wind currents. Unfortunately their weakness lies in their lack of taste whereas dragons can taste their prey from several miles away!

Thus I ask of you the readers to decide for yourselves your preference of the oldest and most powerful beings in the metaphysical world we are so familiar with or as we assume to be. Now since we are at the conclusion of this reading I’d like to say I enjoyed this topic and I hope for you to join me on an epic journey to an alternate world. What is our destination?

De Longpre Tree – By Giggles! :p


At first look, it seems my life is so very simple and my concerns are nil. However, it’s not always easy, being Green. Sure, it can be really quite luxourious at times. For example, I am blessed to have set roots in a nice, big park! Us trees don’t get to use those newfangled cellphones, so we communicate through the wind. Since humans have taken over the planet in a way no other animal ever has, our strong, dense population has been increasingly decimated and broken up. Some of our numbers are the blessed chosen and they get to reside wild and free in what you humans call a National Park. I was not granted this high privilege; I’m a city tree.

Survey says that us city dwellers prefer parks to any other environ. Why? It’s all those positive vibes! Running, laughing, screaming-with-delight children surround me all day, everyday. So much joy is contained inside a park, that it just makes us trees grow taller. And when all the kids are in school, there’s always the squatters or neo-hippies to keep me company, sitting under my branches, passing a cigarette and passively telling me the news in the human world. They also bring good vibes. And then, of course, there are those days where much more negative souls cross my path. OUCH!! I DON’T like being carved upon!! Finally, when you all go to bed, I get to watch the mysteries of the night unfold. I watch owls and mice move in the intricate dance that can only connect the hunter and its prey. I sing softly in the wind with the pale moon, spreading blessings, love and healing through my area of the town. It’s quieter, more peaceful at night and it makes my soul sing.

Soon, the moon settles down back to sleep, and pure beauty awakens! However, no matter what eyeful I get to behold, dawn is ALWAYS the saddest part of the day. You see, I just can’t ever seem to be quite tall enough when I find myself facing the day’s birth. Yupp. You heard me….I tower over every single one of you humans, and yet I am still not tall enough. Why? Oh, I’ll tell you why. I am in love! In love with something so common, yet so impossibly unattainable! In love with that golden-rayed, hot Sun.

Each and every day, he rises, and as those magical new-day rays touch my dry bark, I foolishly imagine that they’re all just there to caress me and to tell me what a gorgeous day it will be. Always, when I was a tiny sapling, I’d stare up, up forever into his shining face, being the best little tree I knew how to be in order to evoke some praise. As I grew, I found out that my imaginings of him shining upon me, telling me I was the best tree, were never, ever going to come to fruition. Apparently, it’s because us trees are too lowly for the Sun to be paying Special attention to us. At least, that’s what my seed-mother explained to me over, and over. I’ve been told that if I were to touch that fair-headed Sun, I’d instantly combust. By that age, I was sick of everybody simply telling me no, and saying I wasn’t good enough. My decision was made – my thermogenesis would result simply from too much pure ecstasy running through me. So, everyday, I soak up all of the laughter and joyous sounds from my park. Everyday, I grow taller. Everyday, at around 4:00 p.m., when everything seems to hold that magical golden glow that only that delicious Sun can cause, I dream. Dream of that One Day, when I have finally grown tall enough. That one day that he could never ignore me, because I, that nice old tree at De Longpre Park, touched him just ever-so-slightly, and in that moment he knew. Knew as I exploded with all that heat and excitement, that I had always loved him, and had worked each day for that last touch of his sweet, gentle rays.

You Don’t Need To Save Me, by Jonathan


You don’t need to save me,
              I do it myself daily.
Every battle I’ve fought and won
              Just for the sake of moving on.
On to another day of putting up with people
                            who wouldn’t be able to put up with
              themselves if their lives depended on it.
Alone in a room for just five minutes you begin
                            tearing flesh from your bone just to
              avoid the boredom brought on by being you.
You don’t need to save me,
              You need me to save you.



By: Jessica E.

The word “sorry” is not an apology. The word “sorry” has been

 abused; it’s like a slap across the face. You don’t mean it! You

 say this word just so you don’t get into trouble. The word “sorry”

 is not an apology! You don’t mean it! …And you never will, will

 you? You then show your tears to back it up. But, you know you

 just want to play the pity game. It’s not all about you but in order

 to be truly “sorry” you must accept the fact that you were in the

 wrong and admit it. Because the word “sorry” doesn’t need to be

abused anymore!

Two Poems of INSIDE…


By: The Messenger

 Metaphor for life

My life is like a metaphor

Meaningful for someone else

Every struggle, trip, and fall

Is used for something else

My life is a metaphor for hope

Desperately beating at the glass

As I just as desperately keep it bound

My life started out for someone else, and evolved

For everyone but myself

Rage, Fear, Hurt, will begin and end

With My Life

In their painful unforgiving hands

As my hope, my disguised happiness

Suffers on

Breaking down as it tries to remain free



You’re Love

 Your love is not an apology,

No tear filled cry drowning out the heavens

Will sway me from the hurt your actions have admitted

You need to stop hiding behind the words you’ve dipped in disguise

Or criticize the heart your lies an thousand eyes have decided to wipe out

Your love does not solve our problems

In fact it’s the reason


So many parts of me

Have been thrown away and hidden

Before the blast of your love eradicates all the bits of myself

Like you’re the atom bomb bent on

Making me surrender my hopes and dreams

And that special guard on the barrel that constantly whispers

“Why not let it go?

Pull the trigger and Give Up on

This world that has you in it?

Your love is not an apology for your actions

It’s more like an excuse, for the pain you gave

In exchange, every time I’d scream out my rage

How unfair our love was

Your love was a lesson

It taught me how to hate, and now your love is my excuse

It’s my apology to the world for why love and emotions

Is nothing more then an apology for pain…

Do You Know Me


  • I think a lot about this world and how we are supposed to live
  • I care about everyone
  • I gain motivation through peoples negativity from others
  • I want a wife with some kids
  • I see good and evil in everyone
  • I put others first
  • College is my goal NFL is my priority
  • I will respect you if you respect me
  • You use me I will go hard and get harder
  • I like to cook

I Am…That I Am.


I Am...That I Am.

Today I am the face of Bamboo
Calm like the sea breeze
Deep like the ocean floor
I am the voice the moon
Loud like silent vibrations
Which echoes like a wolf’s howl
I am the statue among the Youth
Bold as bronze like the copper I was molded from
I am an original piece of Art
Photoshop can only kill me
I am Proud
I am Strong
I am the bars that criminals hold on to in jail
Who am I?
I am C. Dubb The Young Black Male
I Strive
I Flow
I Dive
Off a cliff like a hawk or an eagle
Vision strictly on my Family
Who am I?
I am C. Dubb The Young Black Male



By Drake

When my spirit stopped haunting me,

I could finally see the world around me.

Trying to find a happy medium betwixt here and there.

“Don’t go to far overboard,” My brain says. “I might not come back from this adventure.”

I keep my brain under lock and key.

My mind on track.

My consciousness in check.

I am conditioning myself to go to a different world.

Where thoughts disappear,

everything becomes one,

I become everything,

and then I feel better.

I can finally see.

A Farewell from Zine Instructor Shaun


Zine Instructor Shaun says 'goodbye' for now.

Zine Instructor Shaun says ‘goodbye’ for now.

After three and a half years, and 19 groups of amazing young people, Zine Instructor Shaun is moving on.

Pursuing a long-time-goal of being a high school English teacher, Shaun is off to work in Seattle Public Schools as a teacher’s assistant. Another Zine Instructor will be hired soon and many more blogs and zines will follow.

But before signing off, Shaun wanted to share some words in a poem, dedicated to homeless youth and his time at the Zine Project and at University District Youth Center (UDYC). Enjoy! And thank you for always reading:

Flip it over

Hey you,

you with the face.

When’s the last time you took space

to look and see the grace electric on your cheeks?

Or have your eyes come to peek

timidly out

from behind skin tasked to be a mask

through the blocks, so wide

walking them eats up weeks

of your soles and talking in them

seems to dig you one more hole. They seem to stretch

from pole to pole. Those streets

            can make you forget

the feat of artistry,

the woven cell-supple tapestry

the blood-warmed and muscled basketry

of your face. You.

Hey you

behind the door,

noticing now your breathing pores,

maybe at your core, resenting the get-out

you fear my voice might roar.

Today, I’ve got something else for you to absorb.

It’s a simple phrase. Common as a three-leafed clover,

stark as the reflection in the mirror:

if you can, when you can

flip it over.

When you miss your bus, when there’s rust in your trucks,

when one more ‘no’ seems like a beam that will crush

when the curse gets fussed out of your best and briniest cuss,

when your closest ride-or-die goes and betrays your trust,

flip it over.

When your transfer runs out, when you get missed by the count

when you walk your feet into gnarled root-bulbs of gout,

when you feel kicked to the curb and you’re all out of shout

when, in place of the courage in your bag, you find a dark wad of doubt

flip it over.

When the porch leaks, when the church doorway reeks

when you raise your hand to ask and the bus driver zooms right passed,

when the legal phrase, the bureaucratic maze, or the cop’s curt gaze

summon up a board room table to flatten you stable—

use all your strength to heave off that slab.

Pick it up, lift it up

and flip it over.

Flip it over cuz the night won’t win.

Flip it over cuz the moon has a bigger, prettier twin

Flip it over

and the sand at the bottom is on top again

and as long as its flipped, the hour glass can continue to spin.

And yes, the dog still cries

            and the sun can be a squat-key that pries

open the darkness in which we sometimes can hide

from the truth of life’s limitedness,

the law that wants to find us and bury us

using for a spade,

our pride.

But the spirit cannot be broken by any law

all laws were made to be broken by the Spirit

That left its lineaments in your face and in your ligaments,

the Spirit that sounds its voice when you speak soft or in vehemence

about the things in this world that scare you sober

like another listless summer or a soaked October,

the Spirit with which you take this rain-sodden bench

gumming your bum glum and

flip it over

to find that beneath

is a note with your name on it.

Inside is a message of hope that’s kinda haunted

with risk—pregnant with a promise

a truth too bent to be doctrine

too hard-won to be forgotten:




Pick up the phone when you need to, listen

to the voices that plead with you

and impart the truth

that like this poem

you were poured from a life-shaped crucible.

You’re resilient and beautiful

and deserve every last chance for a reversal.

I mean just look at you,


with the face.

The face, shy at first

but getting bolder,

saying back to me, like a mirror,

If you can, when you can,

flip it over.

The New Dog Soldiers


I am a Quahadi Comanche, i stand for strength, courage and am brave

I am a Quahadi Comanche, i stand for strength, courage and i am brave

By Lacade Karty

The speed of the air slaps me in my face. All and everything is still a Human sense of a blur. In someway I can maintain focus of all my surroundings. I’m running with 3 loyal trusted friends, there are only 4 chosen by the Great Spirit to protect the sacred grounds of his people. And I am chosen to run with the pack. We are the new and stronger Dog-Solders of our New Land, that we are ordered to Protect always.

I’m Lacade Karty

For those I love


By Mathew Harmony         



This is for the people that have seen me at my best

and have praised me for it, your loyalty and respect cherished

this is for the people that stood by me at my worst and lowest,

never judging and always accepting, you have my love

this is for my family and all the good times we have had

laughing, playing, chilling. And for all the bad times we have had

fighting, crying, arguments over stupid shit and dirty looks,

yet when all was said and done we stayed true to each other

this is for those who have been lost, you will always have a place in my heart

the memories we have shared raised high, you are remembered.

This is what I have to say to these people, two words filled with all that I am

Thank you

Poisonous Thoughts


A poem by Kari

Death— impending,

always there

writhing like snakes

at your feet

the possibility of a horrible ending

slithering after you

as you run through the trees.

One bite.

One bite from these messengers of death

and doom,

and you’ll be sent into oblivion.

Death—Always following


waiting where you can’t

see it.

It is the boa constrictor wrapped

around the branch above your head.

It is the anaconda


in the grass at your feet,


for the perfect moment

to strike.

It surrounds you, slowly,

hesitantly at first

unsure whether to accept its prize.


it is everywhere

your hair, your clothes

it’s even in your boots,


every part of you

like a hoard

of hungry snakes.

Living in a box


By Jeffscratch board0001

Developing in a box is dehumanizing.

Ordains you as a captive without understanding.

It locks your consciousness away.

It makes you think everything is okay.

Like a prison you built for yourself,

You are the key,

You’re the only way out.

Lives Built on flawed and faulty logic,

Just keep drinking their gin and tonics.

“no we aren’t slaves” is what they all say,

But if only they could see it my way.

If only for a minute or maybe a day,

I wish they could think and see through my eyes

and feel complete.

Nothing is all I ask,

never think its an unattainable task.

Flee to the woods, desserts and forests!

Free your minds before they destroy us!

From Zine Intern to Bride: Leticia’s Story


By Zine Instructor Shaun

After Zine, many of our interns go on to get housing and jobs.

LY ziner

Leticia, Zine Intern

Leticia—Zine intern from Winter 2011— went on to get married.

Zine was an important benchmark for Leticia. At the time, Leticia was staying in shelters and traveling with her home on her back. Leticia came into her first day at zine exhausted from carrying her heavy pack and self conscious about reading her writing in front of others. Despite her circumstances and natural timidity, Leticia persevered and grew. She showed up every day and, in the safe, accepting environment of Zine, she quickly overcame her fear of being the center of attention. Leticia began sharing her poetry—writing and reading boldly.

Leticia and Audrey

Leticia and Audrey

While in Zine, Leticia was also participating in The Groundwork Project, Catholic Community Services Wrap Around program. Her wrap around facilitator, Audrey Baedke, worked with Leticia on everything from getting a storage unit to applying for housing. The road to finding Leticia a stable place to stay was a long one. There were months of weekly team meetings, phone calls, applications and even a bad fit. Audrey and Leticia tirelessly looked and applied until finding the perfect place—a permanent housing program that would accommodate Leticia and her long term boyfriend.

Leticia, Bride

Leticia, Bride

Zine ended and Leticia graduated feeling more confident. She read at her Zine graduation in front of a small group of fans. She ended Groundwork housed and happy.

Two years later, Leticia and her boyfriend of five years, got engaged. Still housed, still together, both felt it was time to tie the knot. When thinking of someone to officiate, Leticia thought of Audrey.

LY wedding 2

Saying “I Do”

Audrey had some qualms at first, but Leticia was successfully persistent. Audrey had served as a mentor and support for many years and in Leticia’s mind, she was a natural choice.

The wedding, held at New Horizons Ministries and officiated by Audrey, was attended by family, friends and supports in both youth’s lives.

Leticia, glowing in white, seemed to have no problem being in the center of attention.

Congratulations Leticia!LY I know present to you

Freedom of Speech by Tim Scott


Language is not something you can control or something that is supposed to be pronounced a certain way. There is no proper language, no special way to say things, it’s a way of expression, it’s the voice of the people that have something to say. There is no better way to say things than straight from the mind and heart right at the very second you’re thinking it or saying it, it’s fresh it’s raw it’s real.

Language is culture, language is freedom, language is passion and language was spoken from the most powerful people in history to this day. Language is a new generation, new art, new culture. We as the generation of modern society speak slang because it is fun and it is the language that we have created and followed because we feel like no one listens to us, no one cares. We feel neglected and left out, we feel powerless, that we don’t have a voice. So we talk the way we do because those who understand what we say can hear what we have to say, so we feel we have a special place in society.

Instead of trying to teach us this Proper English, about how we need talk right, try and understand our language, you just might learn something. This is our generation, our story, our language, listen to what we say, understand our voice, cause it’s our voice, that will write history. It’s our voice and when we speak you should shut up and listen, cause if you don’t, you will miss out and you will lose all you care about.

Taking away today’s voice of the new generation has increased suicide, depression, and homelessness, if you want to help, start by listening. This is our time, our language, our voice. This, is the new Freedom Of Speech.




by Amanda Panda

The power of love

Cannot be sourced

But it can mend breaks

If it is not forced

As strong as the moon

Pulling the ocean’s tide

As swift & lightweight

As a runners stride

And beautiful, like a

Fresh bloomed rose

The power of love

Always grows

It is fragile and kind

Yet solid and mean

The power of love

Is a beautiful thing