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Words From The Street – Volume 1 and 2

Words From Streets was one of the first projects that the Media Program was involved in.

Supported by Theresa Rogers and Amanda Wager, it was a “tip of the hat” to the original Slice magazines and would showcase youth written word.

Released in 2006, it went on to sell hundreds of copies.

In 2015, the next volume was released featuring the work of a whole new group of youth and again, supported by Theresa Rogers. It also became a knowledge-share that youth from Directions participated in at UBC.

We have chosen some passages from volume 2 in no particular order or preference.

Art by Trinity F.
Art by Trinity F.

City Grave

by Kali R.                                     

Take a look at this city. The many souls that wander. Some are lost, some found. Some live for the night and many others by the daylight. Some wish, while others live out for their dreams. Does anyone really see the truth that is often twisted into lies that become carved into the cement street grave stones. The home for many forgotten souls.

All We Ask
by Wordvomit

All we ask of you is infinite patience.

All we ask of you is infinite skill.

Also adaptability.

Come to think of it,

It would also be great if you

Talked less.

But you have to speak your mind

Clearly, too.

You should also try to be funny.


I’m Addicted to Pain

by Anonymous

A shot to kill the pain?
A pill to drain the shame?
A purge to stop the gain?
A cut to break the vein?
A smoke to ease the crave?
A drive to win the game
an addictions an addiction?
because it always hurts all the same

Once Before 🙂

by Kali R. 

You never knew this would do this. It would tear you apart. Making your world a living stone wall of self hatred. You never got a chance to see the true beauty you were once before. Its taking over in your self image of the mirror. Its posses an image of someone you are now. Someone you wish you would never have become. Now take my hand please and let me show you the way to a new deep meaning of life.

Walk a Day in My Shoes

by Livingdeadgirl

Every day is a new adventure. I never know what I am doing one day from the next or where I will be. Does that make me lucky? If you think yes then are you really sure? Well what if I tell you I am homeless, know what do you say? Well I don’t mind my life on bit. I may carry my house on my back but that means I have the freedom to go anywhere. Home is where I lay my head is it not? The only thing I ask in life is that I can support me and mine on a daily basis. Should that be so hard in this city or any city I choose to go? I would hope not. Is it better to live behind concrete walls or out in nature or just on the sidewalk. Does someone with a “home” have a better life then someone who has the choice to go anywhere and do anything they want and futher more what kind of secrets hide behind those walls? Does one who works for the government have more peace of mind then someone who follows their own beliefs.

The Fiend in Me

by NicotineFiend

Author’s Note: I wrote this poem on the topic of addiction seen through an imagined perspective which was very loosely based on real-life circumstances and real-life individuals. These words do not represent; nor do they depict my true emotions in regards to my own life experiences or relationships. It is a work of fiction, an exaggerated fabrication of a slightly similar situation. Now if I could only convince my partner that this was true than perhaps I would not despise these words as much as I do. Regardless, I’ve decided to share them with you all so please, enjoy.

The fiend in me

Won’t let me sleep.

Swallowing me whole,

It’s devouring my soul.

An insufferable need,

Fueled by greed.

A freshly filled bowl,

Handled much too slow.

Whose hands are those anyways?

His seemingly foreign fingers

No longer belonging

To any recognizable person;

Like a forgotten number,

An unfortunate bother,

My insignificant other,

A just cause for my anger.

Impatience, dripping off?like beads of sweat

As I await my next hit,

“Move fucking faster,

You intolerable twit!”?

Says an imposter,

Somewhere inside of me.

?Rearranging my priorities

Triggering insecurities,

Plagiarising memories,

Determining my destiny

Consumed by insanity,

A battle of personalities

And conflicting realities

Between various versions

Self images; mine and yours.