Laissez Les Bons Temps Rouler by Sarfina O

In the background, the Cajun music pounds on the ears of the true New Orleans--the smell of gumbo, dirty rice, and red beans escape nearby restaurants. Everyone is concentrating on the beads being thrown from the beautifully decorated floated ahead. On the corner of Bourbon Street, my best friend Amalachi, fights for a feathered spear with a crazed reveler. Men and women wearing feathered headpieces and glittery clothing are tossing various objects from their floats. Children go to nearby stands to get their faces painted, and to swipe a few cans of silly string. I try to catch a flashing bracelet, but sadly, I miss.

Yells come from every corner.

“Throw me something!”

“Over here!”

The sky gets dark, but hundreds of people still stretch their hand trying to grasp a piece of plastic jewelry. Homeless people leave their cardboard boxes to join the festivities. I take a quick look at what I have caught—loads of beads, glow sticks, and plastic cigars fill my three grocery bags.

The crowd gets crazier as the sky gets darker. A little boy almost gets run over by a float. Fights break out; policemen break out as well, twirling their batons, fiddling with their mace cans, and flashing their guns. Gates and chains are placed in front of the street to prevent any sudden movements. My necklace glistens in the light of the full moon. The lights in front of restaurants flicker; hunger overwhelms me. It is almost time to go.

With every second that passes, the level of danger increases. Men with sagging pants emerge from their hiding places. Women take their place on street corners and smoke cigarettes. The streets are no longer filled with people by with loads of unwanted beads and Big Mac wrappings.

In the background, the Cajun music pounds on the ears of the true New Orleans.

Theme Mind Map by Chris L and Jerel E

Mind Map from Sr2

Mind Map from SR3

Scary Boys

"HATE" Franz C.

I didn't have hate from the start,
learned it and gained a shadow in my heart.
I was young and innocent at the time,
knew no such thing as crime

My father was just walking with me right behind him.
Along comes a man, walks up, and grabs him.
He punches my father swiftly and silently.
Grabs his wallet and runs away very quietly

The smell of beer and blood is all around me,
My father yells of pain and the sounds of his
bone cracking is still inside me.

I'm sad, scared, and confused then
I turn mad as hate pumps in my veins.
After that day I have rage in my heart,
but I will always remember I didn't have
hate from the start

"Simple Society" by Tracy S.

i look out and see the world in which i live in.
People living in fear of what others are thinking.
They look inside and know it's not them,
but still they feel the need to pretend.
Stereotypers putting people in categories,
Mexican immigrants destined to work in factories.
Growing up with people who have this way of thinking,
constantly in wonder, is this what is to become of me?
Another wetback who's life is controlled by society.
To not get pregnant before I am out of high school that's just not the story.
This is what I've been told since i was young,
this is who I am to become.
No, not me the thoughts going through my head.
I'm going to college to get a degree in English.
'Cause to me life is nothing but a book,
everyone thinks they know what one is,
until they read that one that blows them away.
A book as common as beginning to end,
but what's in between is hand written with pen.
Once done past can't be changed.
You can write a stereotype and easily follow in it's path,
or choose to write a different story,
prove you can't be placed in a category.