Art And Design High School - Prism Yearbook (New York, NY)

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There is a peaceful stillness and calm in the streets. People are living humanly, not like animals hungry and desperate in low poverty con- ditions. either side of the railroad tracks. There is no barbed wire, no fence, no walls, but for the people living on the poor side, it is practically impossible to break through. There are two distinct worlds lying on GAIL DEBEL THE B POEMS LOVE'S BIRTH A FOOL'S PRAYER Bursting... Bacchus.. .. . . ' beyond its boundaries. god of Wine, Breathing... b U hl b bl, b b l within the being of its harbor. aptlzet IS um mg 3 8 mm your LOVE is abundant in its beneficence bacchanalian rites. and Icome before you bare faced and bland. Boundless now in its beauty. I Worse than a bumpkinq CAROLYN MC COMES Barren of frivolity, beaten, broken and barred. HBH Bathe me. . . in your bitter, blinding waters. Bury my carcass under the ruins of Babel. Barren land Buy me .,........................,.......... Ibid you. betrayed and bombed FB.ee this SOUL from inhibitions. by the bozjb b , BIRTH Anew your blazing waters bring. Brazen bulls an all arm' blithe spirits Bold, Blustering in Baritone voices, brandishing brimming with quick wit and skills. bladgg Blame me not for binding my spirit to you blazfflgbzvfflg iicivow NO OTHEH WAY oo . Blood A fool' l blackened bound to the magic troubadours' ballads caused and bubbling by your brew. benegillnt BAHBAHIC FooL, . . and battered a blundering, babbling bridges. fool' A bending Tower OfBHbe1f ALEXANDRA REYES brought down by the bravado ofthe recently banished bandit. IUDITH PFEFFER G

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O THE CITY THE LETTER Dear City, Your people hover In the grayness and solitude of their homes Dominant gray Domineering gray Your streets bustle with Rainy facesg cleansed of individualism In the beauty of night and still of the morning You resound with the noises of nothing And with all you have to offer You give but nothing Your reservoir of hope Has become a draughty hole And your people who were once people Are now pebbles Being ground to nothing With all due respect to you city I regret to inform you Iwill not be engulfed in your madness I will remain a rock Sincerely, Individual ELLEN LASPALUTTO ON EITHER SIDE OF THE RAILROAD TRACKS The broken bits of beer bottles were scat- tered along the sidewalks. Their stale stench combined with the various unpleasant odors of putrid food, dirt and the decaying bodies of dead cats. The stains on the sidewalks started to bubble and boil, turning into a hardened lava. The garbage cans overflowing with the discarded articles, slowly grew grotesque, ugly, symbolic of all the trash and dirt that bred and lingered behind the locked doors with loose hinges and between the steps of the chipping paint of the fire escapes ascending higher and higher, reach- ing the roofs and then graded and blending into the sky in the dark billowy clouds that rose from the chimney. The people sat at the windows with placid expressions like hungry vultures ready for prey. Their mouths foamed and watered for the sight of a victim to become captured in the webs of their disfigured minds. Their words were pre- planned coming out in shrilled voices travelling over from alley to alley trying to be discreet but knowing how to hurt. The pack of wolves lurked about the cor- ners dressed in black shiny leather, tough to the exterior, impenetrable on the interior. The venom of evils and sins seeped in through their pores and surrounded the walls of their hearts. They lingered and attacked, but with panic in their eyes they ran, scared at the sound of a police siren. The little children inscribed various ob- scenities on the streets and marred the gutters. They played cops and robbers, shooting at each other, killing each other, fighting and knifing each other in play, so affected by life. Will they ever play happy games? A group of Rabbis walked along the streets on their way to the synagogue, dressed in their uniforms, their long bristly beards flowing along with their somber black robes. They walked ser- iously and peacefully. In the eyes of the others, they were ridiculed, labeled with the words of the preiudiced, tortured with names. A young boy throws a rotten egg from a window, cracking on one of their hats, dripping down in a syrupy gooey liquid. But they keep walking, constantly keeping a steady pace. Cross over the railroad tracks and observe. The contrast is unbelievable. The rows of tall maiestic-like apartment houses glisten in the morning sun. A landlord sweeps slowly a few specks of dust on the clean sidewalk. A young man slowly shines his car, apply- ing the last coat of liquid and searching to see his own reflection in the vinyl finish. The rows of trees begin to blossom in the early Spring air, reaching out in grandeur, and sheltering the streets from the evils so near. The school children run down the streets laughing, smiling, their cheeks flushed pink with excitement and exuberance. They pile into the vacant bus and create life inside the still vehicle, A middle-aged woman walks her dog and greets everyone, Hello. Her French poodle is dressed in a stunning outfit, complete with booties.

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the agony and the ecstas 3Oc1