What you see is an empty piece of canvas. Pure white, with no marks of any sort. No wrinkle or tears whatsoever. It’s gone through many hands, since it first came along, but none willing to paint my canvas. I collect dust in the corner, as the time passes by me. Is there something wrong with me? Am I deformed, dirty or even stained, but I just don’t see it?
The world of beautiful creation has been taken over An evil darkness crept in when we weren’t looking The flawless friend we once called lover Has been disfigured by the darkness
Tiffany Marie Lester-Enget
The United States is facing a crisis. According to Mike Rowe of Dirty Jobs, a well-known advocate of blue collar work, U.S. society needs to wake up and change the way it thinks about our current work system. Many middle class families live with the blatant disregard for and undervalue of the blue-collared workers in our culture.
No, it’s not only a bruise, It’s more than that. Barbarity found his victim in my face. Choking the words and violating my being. It is the denial of my right and the humiliation of my condition.
When I was in high school, in creative writing class, I would look outside to the Weeping Willow outside in the courtyard. The branches almost hit the ground and looked like tears falling from the top of the tree. I could get lost staring at the tree at times, drowning out my teacher and classmates. There are times now I can remember the feelings of staring at the willow and feel a connection to the tree.
The Delano Grape Strike, led by Cesar Chavez, to put it simply, was a boycott and 300 mile march from Delano to Sacramento determined to achieve a living wage for migrant workers in the United States. Jan went down to Delano for a weekend to join in the heart of the strike to show her support and learn more about the people who were fighting for their civil rights and the lives that they had to live in order to provide for their families while still being used and exploited in their only option for work.
Borne of conscience, drowned at once: My reason rose to fill the space. And nothing can my guilt repair And yet it hangs upon my face. With nothing held and nothing gained By waiting or by moving on . . .
This spring semester, Parley partners with the philosophy department to highlight the creative intellect of our PPCC student philosophers. Each week in the month of March, we will publish a student poem inspired by a philosophical problem or theory. Please enjoy and feel free to comment on Liz Calvert's work today.
Joseph Tyler Dorhmann
In the past, I did not like being around children. I actively avoided being with children. My four years in the Marine Corps was spent with young, hardened men who trained for, and lived war. I had to learn how to get out of a warrior mindset in order to work with children.
Mayada Allami is an ESL student at PPCC who hopes to study for her nursing assistant degree here. An Iraqi, she lived temporarily in Jordan prior to moving to the United States.
This spring, Parley partners with the philosophy department to highlight the creative intellect of our PPCC student philosophers. Each week in the month of March, we will publish a student poem inspired by a philosophical problem or theory. Please enjoy and feel free to comment.
A prevalent axiom in contemporary culture states that men who have better ability than their less competent counterparts should share their wealth with the community. However, our culture fails to provide an explanation as to why this idea of self-sacrifice is praiseworthy.
I am motivated by a deep desire to help the needy. For much of my life, despite all my work to rise above, I have been in their place. I have seen where legislation fails and where so many get left in the dust, e.g., the working poor (don't make enough to survive, but too much for state assistance). Determined to use my education for the greater good, I hope to start a Peanut Butter Project at PPCC.
I couldn’t sleep sometimes. And when I could, it didn’t really matter. I was always off somewhere, in dreams of day and night, always somewhere other than where I really was at the moment. I was in the field. I was in the water. I was in the jungle. I was in the dark in the snow. And I was in the sand.
PPCC student Mal Sawm describes the political conditions in his home country of Myanmar (also known as Burma).
When it comes down to it, the power that lies in my industry is a hidden power. We are the shadows behind the curtain, the grease in the cog, the smoke for your mirrors. We are paralegals and we make it all run.
Public Statement by Eight Alabama Clergymen (C.C..J. Carpenter, Jospeph A. Durick, Rabbi Hilton L. Grafman, Bishop Paul Hardin, Bishop Nolan B. Harmon, George M. Murray, Edward V. Ramage, and Earl Stallings) is a letter that was written on April 12, 1963 to denounce the acts of non-violent protests lead by Dr. Martin Luther King Jr in Birmingham, Alabama. The clergymen ask that both the white and negro communities observe the principles of law and order and common sense. The eight clergymen called MLK’s acts untimely and unwise. Untimely because of the new local government that just was elected. They called MLK Jr. an outsider and said that this problem needed to be addressed by the local government, and the local negro leaders. The clergymen believe that even though these protests are technically non-violent, they create hate and violence in the community. The clergymen believe that these issues should be handled in the court and not in the streets. “Hatred and violence have no sanction in our religious and political traditions,” which was formerly pointed out in another letter. They called the acts of MLK Jr. as extreme measures which are not justified in Birmingham.
Crystal Jones is the first place winner of Parley’s Summer Writing Contest. She writes about her experience at PPCC to a friend. This essay was chosen by the Parley Club for its genuine tone. Dear Friend, My experience at PPCC has gone better than I expected.
Sarah Kadlec, an online student at PPCC, strives to be a photojournalist. In this piece, she addresses a friend about becoming a college student.
I climb the mountain peak, in search of myself, but only found a blind man, wrapped in the lion’s mane and nothing else. The mane glistened in the light of the sun, coarse and rough, matted and soiled, he carried the pain of the earth, of those unjustly embroiled.
Steffani Rose Biolchini
His tiny stomach clenched, his throat riddled with sores, Just one more sinking sunset, that brings no sweet sigh of relief. Tomorrow is a new day, if he endures the night, With the morning sun he wakes, another blistered march to the murky riverbed.