Meta Mag 2: Diversity

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Welcome to the second issue of Meta Mag [the zine within a zine]...because every zine should have even more zine; because Charleston's creativity should be flaunted...creatively. Every month. One theme. Writing. Art. Photography. The talent of Charleston in one collective. 
 
So this month, our theme is... diversity! But with each different monthly theme, be prepared to brave the dark, the bold, the delightful, the decadent, the strange.
 
Submissions open to anyone in Charleston or the surrounding sprawl: poetry, prose, lyrics, short stories, excerpts, digital art, mixed media, photoshopped photography, analog photography (both are hip now, anyways, right?), anything you can argue/haggle that fits into the categories of writing, art, and photography. 
 
Submit to annadorotheahudson@gmail.com and become super famous now.
[The theme of the next issue will be: Spirituality {love it, hate it, lack it, create it, say whatever you want to say and submit it}] 
 
And cue. 

 
 

 
 
"St. Matthew's Steeple" by Jess Kwiatkowski
 
antebellum in manors

inflexible spinsters wither
gardens growing unkempt
structures turning bereft
dwindling bloodlines dripping
final vestiges of the holy city
 
body sculpting scholastic
progeny of affluence
fraternities popping sororities
drinking their allowances
swapping designer drugs
trademark pastels of southern fashion
 
unlucky star grinders
buckling under pressure
nicotine liquor amphetamines
rent ballooning exorbitant
wages petrified minimum
clinging fingernail to decaying property
 
panhandling cosmopolitan streets
homeless faces changing
sixstring strumming same
unaddressed flows dope
lacing the veins
tattered lives ribbon the thoroughfare
 
generations of freemen
removed predictably north
realtor checkmate proletariat
yuppie upstarts filing
signed paperwork gentrifying
the most charming city on earth
 
motley artist specters
playing alternative culture
expressions riotous swelling
then silent slumbering
wandering beaten streets
composing verse to address distinction
 
 

 
 
"Lifted" - song lyrics from Wayne Hampleton
 
 

verse 1
 
Mental release is really all that i've known
sequential defeats of the beasts and the foes 
while i've grown
these beats speak to me (preach)
and leap off of his throne
to leave competition
lost in the wind
now im all alone
that dont mean on my lonesome
with a spirit guide, clearly i've
grown some
going to own some
businesses and enterprises
lyrics spit and hit some different minded
much to the delight of
me... and those just like it
let it go in your mind
and expand 
until your crown
is tight like a band
around that knot in your hand
trust me
this is not what you had planned
 
chorus
 
there you go!
that's just your feet liftin
do you feel the flow?
or are you up and trippin?
dumb and twisted
or are you
forever young and gifted?
 
verse 2
 
see the problem is the garbage in the market which
is targeted towards the kids
to make some wallets thick
oh God it's sick and horrid
they pour them piss
than send them some knowledge 
be artistic and articulate
SO
how much is a million?
the fact that i find having one appealin 
shouldnt make a villain
given some people would kill for one
or sell their soul for it
see i am still someone 
whose willing to go for it (go for it!)
via spittin wisdom is rhythmic form
lyrics sent from mental vision
now the two inch is adorned
as if my crown
had a few
inches of thorns
bc the pain that came with this gain
sometimes makes me wish that i didnt get born...
but thats just crazy talk from waning thoughts
i am the one who made these thoughts
ill break these thoughts 
so long as BASS be smart
when his makes his art
using the things he's been taught 
to make it shoot off
like its on a slingshot
 
chorus
 
verse 3
 
see what ive wanted 
i've got it
regardless of an options or margins
toppled college
its logistics
drop a hit with a swift kick
like it's soccer
flip and split your biscuit 
this is wicked
and from one sick kid
kind of like its ebola (hey!)
drop bombs like enola gay
kill masses either way
to be bold the toll is great
but dammit!
my talent
wont get thrown away
as long as i can own today
and i wont be alone to play
so it's up to me to have it made
create a legacy before the day i pass away
resting in peace
no stressin see
cuz thats just great
i invest in beats 
with a fresh technique 
that'll last for days
 
 
"Tasty Poison" - song lyrics from Wayne Hampleton
 
 
verse 1
 
Just get in line
I spit these rhymes
to get to different minds
though we live in wicked times
i'm living fine
some living blind 
would sit and dine
on food that has been modified
without a care
without a share
of the abundance 
and no doubt is there
how's it fair?
to the few of us
who give a shit
what you choose to do to us
you used to fuss
about oppression
so you leave no clue to us
classic misdirection
this is a session
its just a section of the reason i've been stressin
weapons
applied on the daily
all we do is crave them
do you know what i am saying?
the ingredients are poison
though they taste good we should avoid them
 
chorus
 
Its so hard to know where to begin (where to begin)
cuz it's gone so far 
that the poison is seepin
into our consciousness 
that is some honest shit
so i stay on my wit 
for all of those that want a win
 
verse 2
 
this whole music shit
has got me losing it
though we choose which view to pick
they make sure we do it quick
like twerk vids
other things with no purpose
things that bring us no service
we love em though they're worthless
how absurd this
life that looks fun to us
will never come to us
if we do what they do 
how wondrous
so we'll adhere
to the mold
and do exactly what it is that we are told
until we know
there is more to honor
like drawing your influences
from more than just two different genres
kid is a doctor
and here to fix it quick
some are just defensive
and not inquisitive
but!
i think i can mend this bridge
better than an apprentice did
sometimes i just stop and ask
what is it you live to get?
 
chorus
 

 

 

"Continuum" by John White
 
We are seeing a continuum a millennium some come to change others derange I want to break the cage and arrange my own pace. I can't wait some day our hearts will rid of hate and fate has ways to make things change.
 
I'm not a capitalist I'm a futurist. A synergist environmentalist a home chemist for demolitionist sentiment humanist and intimate.
 
Dynamite might make the deaf hear left ear ringing the bomb still singing breaking race tracks taking the demons back unearthing a syntax of urchins searching for purpose.
 
Searched us, demeaned us and beat us dehumanized and laid dark eyes, tired minds, handcuffed for our stand up. Jailed failed rocks hailed from the people. One last chance to pray at the steeple.
 
Judge said guilty with a toothy smile and filthy guile the vulture would happy that the race horse had won. Me not bought out by the seed of greed the demon tree will never corrupt me.
 
Day of judgment is coming, if there is a god I hope he is one of understanding. Last chance to speak fall off feet to my knees and I hope this changes anything. My death row words.
 
See yourself a revolutionary hopefully visionary spreading light glaring caring and carrying blinding bright bearing the torch of peace of mind rewind class structure find numbers discover one another in a fair society we can work and raise a family cut down the demon tree where vultures breed plant a new seed stop racing tracking money unify and watch fields blossoming.
 
Credit talk dark and scary
 
 
 

 
 
"Disney Diversity" by Dorothea Hudson
 

There’s Disney Diversity, which is like
a joke
[a mulatto, an Asian dude, and a white-ass cheerleader walk into
a commercial,
and the world applauds with force smiles,
none the wiser that their repressed insincerity
is the punchline].
And then there’s the not-so-pleasant, frowned-upon,
whisper-but-don’t-stare-too-long,
[real] diversity, which is like:
watch me pop a Klonopin or 5, and
get down with the preps and the prostitutes,
all smokin’ too much of this or that…
with the 50-year-old [white, male] Harvard scholar,
who’s too damned brilliant and lonely and sleazy
for his own good,
with the marine-to-be citadel cadet who is
conflicted about his orientation… sexually,
and nationally [“I know America is a corporate, materialistic,
tyrannical force, persecuting the weak;
but if you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em,
…right?”]  
with the starving artists and soccer moms all their sipping coffee,
with the train-hopper, the tranny,
and the trying-too-hard-teens,
the redneck ex-con with tats on his face.
Diversity ain’t a pretty thing, prescribed, premeditated,
and pre-packaged in a rainbow little bow.
It’s full of grey-area, paradoxes, and confusion.
 
But conviction to one man, is close-mindedness to another;
And open-mindedness to one, hypocrisy to another.
 
 

"The Houses of the World" by Lee Davis
 

The Houses of the world hold their own diversities
Each occupy within them different memories
Some with walls full of open spaces
others covered in paintings and faces
All bearing their disparate smells
The aroma of love or the putridity of personal hells
Patiently sitting pretty in their little rows
Or up on a hill all alone
The houses of the world
Each home to unique tales
Some abandon because of their ales
Everybody just wants a roof over their head
Nothing compares to having your own bed
Taken for granted by the rich
Desired more than anything by the less fortunate
 
 
All artwork by Rebecca Jane Hooper