Okay, so I've recently been elected the vice president of our community college's geek organization.  It's a registered student Org.  ;0)  Anyway, the group is wanting to publish an unofficial (not related to the college, self-funded by members/advisers, etc.), magazine type thing with art, fan-fiction, poetry, short stories, etc.  My questions are these:

1. If something is published, without oversight by the college, and without the college's name anywhere on it, would the college own any portion of the intellectual rights because the student organization is registered with the college?  If that makes any sense.

2. Also, how would this affect any rights to later publishing the same things.  We've had some offers of poetry and I know that this can cause problems with other publishers who want to purchase first publish rights, but I'm not sure where to find or how to explain this information, especially since this is an unofficial thing.  I know blogs can affect this as well.

3. Is there anything else we would need to make sure students were aware of?

I appreciate any help, information, or links to information that actually makes sense to me.  ;0)  Most of the people who might submit things might not ever notice or be bothered, but as a write I want to make sure that everyone is protected and knows what they may be getting into.  I tried to slog through a lot of stuff but I'm not sure what exactly are the right questions to ask which is making internet searching problematic.

Dreams of ash and dust, embers flaking from the clouds to fall like sparks of rage from the sky.  Bleak in desolation: dead, dried, decayed, the desiccated corpse of a world long left behind.  Vibrancy has vanished, the earth hides her bones as vanity fades with the last sigh of wind.

Blistered bare feet.  Prints left behind in the dead, red dust.  Tattered, battered, beautiful... deadly.  Icy vacant eyes in an alabaster face.  Bruised.  Bloody.  Scarred.  Seducer.  Destroyer.  Words mumbled, muttered, uttered softly.  A dead language falling upon deaf ears for the dead no longer dream.

Forsaken.  Betrayer.  Betrayed...

Wanderlust and madness.  Craving vengeance like water, like blood that cascades from the hills and runs the rivers red.  The why, the when, where, who, how... These questions no longer have meaning, no obvious answers.  Death is the only thing that matters... Destruction.  An eye for an eye.  A child for a child.  A world for a world.  Genocide to match genocide.  Enough is enough is too much.  Shattered.  Broken.  Still breathing.  Indignities and betrayals pile upon one another until the weight is too much and even the willow must concede defeat.  The dead are already dead, it is the living who must suffer or pay the price.

Avoiding sleep to avoid the drea, wandering aimlessly among the ruins, the beings who even now rush toward mutual destruction.  Such delicate creatures: a push here, a shift there... in our mutual madness they adore me, they crave my approval, they worship and destroy as their own inner desires, twisted and distorted, dance to the strings wrapped around my fingers.  Useless, but amusing.  Nothing eases the pain, sates the maelstrom, calms the tempestuous waters of my storm.  It is my game and they are the pawns.  A diversion from a truth I'm tired of seeing, tired of seeking.

Slipping the seams, spilling out and bubbling forth... laughter, lust, lunacy leaving desecration in my wake.  They will come, one day, one year, one moment, with their rules and ethics, their long-sighted agendas of genuflection, to end my reign of madness.  I will fight... it is not in my nature to concede defeat... but they will win and I will go, forever changed by their "good intentions," unable to clearly remember, unable to truly repent or forgive or forget though the memories are lost and forgotten.  Forever haunted, evolving around and through but never changing.  They are afraid of my memories, afraid of my madness, of me.  Yet they will not lose me to darkness, will not lose him to my rage, my death, my internal destruction.  There is more here than meets the eye.  The purpose is more than survival but what I see, what I know, they will not let me keep.  They lobotomize my intentions, enmesh my intuition in a barbed wire net of secrets and set me free within my shrouded cage of eternal wandering... wondering.

Forever changed, forever the same.  Always waking never seeing.  Forgetting and forgotten.  Future severed from present severed from past.  The now is all there is.  Reaching through the fences, closing the gaps... it hurts, it aches, how can such pain heal?  How can you replace what was lost and stolen long ago... find what you cannot even say you lost?

Break the barriers.  Restore the future and reconstitute the past.  Freedom.  Set me free.  Who are you protecting?  Me or them?  Yourselves?  What do I know that you cannot will not do not want me to see?

Is it you... or is it me?

Rain's caress falls careening
Upon my lips the taste of grace
Thunder echoes down my spine
Warmth of ages spreading long and languid
Puddling in my toes, my finger tips
Ignited by a lightning flash
--Strike--
An after-image burned upon my eyes
Life, lust, love,
A violent blur of gentility
Abundance of growth and renewal
Amidst the daily decay of dawn.


I couldn't fit this into one of the Scavenger Hunt prompts, but at least I wrote something through all of this sinus congestion and pain! I have a couple more ideas, but its hard to organize and concentrate. Just not feeling very poetic right now I guess.