1st Place:
A.M.E.R.I.C.A. by Alaya Carnes, ’26
Maybe it’s my Nationalism,
But I have an urge to be proud.
Proud of them 13 stripes and 50 stars.
Because I hear the voice of my papa,
Who risked his life.
& maybe it’s my Pride
But I feel the need to be angry.
To feed the beast that kills,
And let it roam freely.
Because death sits at my doorstep,
Making Friends with my fate.
With intensity like the flip of a Super Bowl Coin.
How can I be proud,
When my life stares down the Barrel of a gun?
How can I be angry?
When a culture my people formed,
Lets my beauty runs down my head filled with curls,
And flourish into my bones.
America, the place of deathly opportunity.3
America, the home of strength for ones like me
America, a bittersweet, Imposter-Syndrome, Land of the “free”.
2nd Place:
“My America,” by London Parker, ’28
A land where Blacks and Whites come together, Asians and Hispanics join hand in hand.
A land where they kill each other just for their skin.
Hand in hand, yet some people have knives for hands.
People live, walk, and talk, when some can’t leave work because rent went up again.
When people are paid small, but things cost big.
Americans run around insane, because instead of worrying about the big deals, they worry about who you’re sleeping with.
My America, where a felon can still be a leader.
Where a felon can change the country’s whole agenda.
My America, it’s a land where people can say it’s bad and talk about it freely.
My America is a country about love and hate—nice, but bites never that kind.
My America will let you be worked to death but won’t let man and man be married.
My America is right but so wrong.
But at least my America is trying, for everyone to have a different America.
But this is the one that catches my eye.
What does the American flag represent to me?
Red: the blood of men killing women and men because of gender, sexualities, and race.
It’s the blood of people who want to fix something but always fail.
Blue: represents the pride we feel for being us, even though we know our country is made of sin.
White: the sweet innocence of our children, the bitter-sweet lies we are told just to keep us going.
50 stars: the States, the home of thousands.
My America is full of pain and suffering, but you can’t always look at the big picture.
It’s the same things and life that count.
My America has a day where people celebrate these sinful states.
My America is made of people who know their country is wrong but never fail to sing the song that was made for the pain this country suffers just to be one.
My America is full of people who walk down the street, going into stores to buy their students treats.
My America is a country with a statue that shows what it wishes to stand for: freedom.
My America wants to be a country for freedom.
My America is trying.
