Brunswick Middle School Literary Magazine

LITMAG

Spring 2010

Reading furnishes the mind only with materials of knowledge; it is thinking that makes what we read ours.

-John Locke

Brunswick Middle School

The Atheist Conor McGillicuddy - 2015

It happened when he was watching TV Flipping channels The news, a soap opera…

A preacher was on He flipped the channel again and thought nothing of it He walked outside to take in the fresh air He realized he was not the man he once was His hands were dark branches Speeding up his arms were the vines, were the plague The vine immobilized his arms And soon his legs His body turned a complete rich brown And he was a tree Soon later a beefy red-faced man came He saw the nice tree Decided to chop it down Hack! Hack! Hack!… TIMBER! He took the tree to the factory Hugga-wugga! Ming-ming! Cho-Cha… The tree was processed and was a brand new bible.

By: Grant MacFaddin 2o15

If Ever You Have Slept on an Island Andrew Tierno - 2017

If ever you have slept on an island,

Then you know what I say is true.

You rest on white grain sand, The water is clear blue.

Hot steam rests your soul, Never do you weep.

You close your eyes and in a while, You fall into peaceful sleep.

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Rain Evan Lee - 2015

The beauty of rain – what of that?

Like marbles from above pounding the ground Fragile daggers slowly tearing away at the earth Accompanies disasters in horrible rages Showers lands in unforgiving floods Roars like a lion defending a kill Takes lives and crops But all the while gives life It is the gentle sprinkle that gives relief

Poems inspired by:

Karl Shapiro’s “Manhole Covers”

Under the sun’s unrelenting punishment And gives breath to life itself Without rain we are nowhere But during its rages all we can think is “why here?”

The Ocean Chris Keller - 2015

The beauty of the Ocean – what of that?

Like faultless glass laid on a window, Like the weather, unpredictable, uncontrollable Not static, but dynamic and everchanging With every wave that breaks Always tossing and turning, Chopping and churning, Like the surface of a rippled blanket, With the name of mother nature written all over it.

When the land and islands are long gone, The Ocean will like, Mighty and strong as ever, Swelled at both poles, Fierce and powerful with ever-lasting beauty.

By: Grant MacFaddin 2o15

Meeting Whitney Gregg Nabhan - 2014

A crisp wind infested the air throughout the colossal hills known as the Rocky Mountains.

Crouched upon a mountain’s side lay a hunter waiting behind a boulder for his prey. Going by the name of Rainsford, the pursuer traveled alone, left only to his thoughts and his mission. Rainsford gazed into the currently lifeless area, anticipating the creature’s entrance to his view. With only his rifle and canteen, Rainsford examined the scenery. Dry air lurked throughout the soon to be snowed-upon land. The air bit Rainsford’s cheeks as he stood in awe of the size of the enormous mountains before him. Towered over by the hills, the hunter’s face was expressionless, certain that the battle would soon begin. The season was directly before winter, perfect for hunting the grizzly bear.

Intimidating grunts soon pierced Rainsford’s ears. The chaser expertly stood motionless, for he knew that one subtle movement could ruin the opportunity. Complete with fur, petrifying size and massive paws, the bear entered from the trees. Rainsford watched as the bear trudged along through the grass. Gracefully, the animal turned to its left and stood, a if waiting to be hunted. Seeing the perfect opportunity, Rainsford excitedly raised his rifle to his eye, held his breath, and took aim. With a clear shot, Rainsford pulled on the trigger. The bear stirred, but did not fall, indicating the shot was not solid enough to be fatal. Rainsford remained calm, for though he had not attained his goal thus far, the bear was currently injured, giving the hunter an advantage. Realizing danger was present, the beast hastily retreated into the forest. Knowing the wound would affect the mammal’s speed, Rainsford proceeded to stand up, and rush for the woods. He would be forced to chase down his prey.

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With a relentless attitude, Rainsford worked his way through woods. Following footprints and other obvious signs of the bear’s previous presence. After incessant sprinting and tracking, the scent of victory was near, so Rainsford did not slow down a bit. Racing through the trees, the hunter spotted fresh blood on the ground. He bolted in the direction of the vague trail, when unexpectedly; the ground was robbed from under him. In a desperate life saving action, Rainsford rescued himself from suffering the fall of a fifty-foot deficit to hanging on by one hand on the cliff. Exhausted from the work he had done, the hunter had no chance of pulling himself up. All physical strength was nonexistent, for it had been adrenaline alone that kept him pursuing. Just as hope seemed too much to ask for, Rainsford heard a footstep approach him. He looked up, and there was a strong, welcoming hand in front of him. Rainsford grabbed hold of the hand, and was hoisted up. He looked his savior in the eye and was told,” I’ll be damned before we let her get away.”

Amazed that there had been two people hunting the bear after all, Rainsford put the thought elsewhere and together they were able to track down the bear and become within firing range. “I’ll go and run around her for the flank.” Said the mystery hunter.

“What shall I do?” asked Rainsford “You draw attention so I can have a clear shot.”

“What if you miss?” questioned Rainford nervously as he had dropped his gun while hanging from the cliff.

With certainty in his eyes the unknown man replied, ”I don’t miss.”

Rainsford waited for his partner’s signal and began waving his hands in the air while making loud noises. The beast turned its head, and charged at terrified Rainsford. Tenaciously attacking its former hunter, a gunshot was fired. The creature was knocked over with a thud and lay there, lifeless. Rainsford’s still unknown rescuer proudly trotted over to his prey. The man exchanged glances as Rainsford exclaimed, “Say I don’t think I got your name sir.”

“The name’s Whitney.” replied the hunter.

Panther Alex Prout - 2015

Dark night The taste of fear froze my mouth shut The Eerie creek of silence haunted my ears The smell of death Stung my nostrils The Animal of stealth Part of the shadows around it Natures ninja Like a badass Cat Eyes that stare into a mans soul Fur like smoldering coals My trained killing machine A growl that startles every man I feed it nothing but what it can find Following my Every command It Stalks, hunts, and kills whenever necessary Your never safe Who’s its next prey Wait,Wonder,Watch Whoever I choose

When your dreams turn to dust, vacuum. ~ Author Unknown

The Black Cat James Dudzik ‐ 2015

A man, tall and slender was going to sleep He felt the chills down his spine, As he closed his eyes, into a forever lasting sleepOne that he did not know of When he awoke in a graveyard, An ominous and ill-omened quarter He felt quite uncommon, He was 5 feet shorter than the other people and To scratch his nose, he scraped himself To wash himself, he would lick his hand The man became conscious of the fact that He was now a black cat Wherever he walked it appeared as if People were being drained of life as he sauntered through the graveyard Slowly And slower And slower And slower His petrifying pace was gloomed upon While he purred the people around him slowly began to Be depleted of their spirits It was bloodcurdling beauty

Andreas Tonckens - 2015 -

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Eraser Grant Pierce - 2015

The evil of an eraser – what of that?

The bringer of darkness, Destroyer of light, An eater of words, Like a lion and its pray, A killer of ideas, A bull in a china shop, Bouncy, odorless a blob.

Slowly creeping across the page, Devouring memories, Destroying delights, Leaving behind only, A wake of dirty, black residue And sludge.

Where would we be without the eraser, Covered in trademarks all unknown?

Far away in the future, Happy and content Not a doubt in our mind, Nor a dip in our soul.

But alas, It is here, And for much longer it shall be, A reminder, Of stories untold, Dreams unaccomplished, And memories,

Forgotten.

Turning Point Ben Albano - 2016

6:45 AM. Time to get up. I rise from one of the deepest sleeps I have ever had. The day is October 1st, 2009, a day I will not forget. “Wake up we should get going soon,” says my friend and coach. The place is Limerock, Connecticut. Home to one if the most historic racetracks in the United States. I am here for the second day of a 2-day advanced racing school. Back in June, I completed a 3-day racing school, which is the basis for anyone who wants to make a start in racing. Finally, we make our way to the racetrack.

I can see the sun over the horizon almost touching the trees in the foreground. A perfect sunrise. The dew on the grass made my socks wet. The cool air produced condensation on the car’s windshield. “Hey Ben, how you doing this morning?” asks one of the four instructors.

“I’m well, a little tired.” I mumble, still partially asleep.

“Better wake up. You have a big day ahead of you.”

After about an hour in the classroom, we make our way to the cars. Two-door, Mazda Miata convertibles. I climb in through the roll bars and begin to adjust the seat and steering wheel. The weather is typical for a fall morning but there is a lot of moisture in the air. In the briefing, the instructor said to be careful on the corner named “West Bend.” This is where the highest part of the racetrack is, and can be dangerous because of the mist. I strap myself in tight and start the engine. The four-cylinder engine purrs as I warm it up. My coach is in one of the cars too. He became the winner of the Skip Barber regional race series and is a part time instructor for Skip Barber. I put the racecar into 1st gear and begin the warm up lap.

The warm-up lap is very important. There are two main parts to this. The most important is to well, warm up the car. Every component on the car with the exception of internal engine parts is bone cold. The tires, the brakes, the transmission, everything has been sitting outside in the cold, fall weather for over a night. Another main part to the warm up lap is to see which

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parts of the track are wet. I follow in a single file line 4 cars back from the lead instructor. My coach is in front of me. Everything is well until West Bend, the corner the instructor said to be careful on. I downshift into 3rd gear and slowly turn in. What happened after the turn in I vividly remember in my mind. All of the sudden, the rear of the car lost grip. I counter steer by turning left which is the way the back end was sliding. I have it set but now I need to reel back in the steering. This is where I went wrong. I have never really been in this situation before.

Unlike a go-kart, the steering wheel is 900 degrees and there are springs involved. What would have been a quick flick of the steering wheel in a kart was a major turning of the wheel. I am to slow to reel in the steering to balance the car. Then, the springs load up on the right side, the tires push down on the track surface, and I am head on into the left side barrier. I still have that picture in my mind of the barrier in front of me.

Before I hit it, I relax and hold on to my straps. The speed is around 40 miles per hour. I turn the still-running racecar off and feel a seven pain in my back (1-10 scale of pain.) I get the wind knocked out of me. I can see the wrecker coming my way. The paramedics come to my aid. “Are you alright?”

“I think so. My back is in pain.” I say, calmly.

He checks if I can wiggle my fingers, my toes, etc. and tells me to get out of the car. As I climb out I can feel the pain in my back but nothing too serious. The paramedic clears me to drive after doing some stretches and calisthenics. I am back in a different car in an hour. Who would have known I had two compression fractures in my back.

This crash put a lot of things into perspective for me. Mainly how expensive racing can be and how dangerous it is. After the crash, It made me want to race even more. The feeling of going 125+ miles per hour is one of the best feelings in the world. Fracturing my back took me out of 1 and a half seasons of sports and I had to wear a brace for 2 months. Four months of inactivity is not fun for anyone. This crash was a major turning point in my life I will never ever forget that day.

Stop Signs Lazare Zoungrana ‐ 2015

The beauty of stop signs‐ what of that?

Strange octagonal shape as if from out of space, An object of red color recognizable from a distance, Controlling man’s decisions with it’s presence, Big white letters saying STOP, Standing on a pole high for us to see, Out there no matter the weather, Durable for wear and tear, Perfect cut of steel, A bigger presence to us than the sun, Keeping children safe from cars, Always there when we need you, Reliable, strong, caring, and helpful, You are a stop sign.

More Poems Inspired By:

Karl Shapiro’s

“Manhole Covers”

Pencil Alex Prout ‐ 2015

Colin MacFaddin - 2017

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The Mystery of the pencil – what of that?

Like history unwritten Sharp like the humans that behold them Withered wood, led running through its veins Sculpted to puncture the many intricate cogs of the mind Smooth and sharp to the touch Capable of thoughts from the heart, body, or mind To hear the sweet song of the muses, whisper gently in your ear Such as electricity channeling through your body Creator of works so grand Lifting you up to a world above and beyond reality Puzzling are the waves that explode from the tip That spill upon the blank page The gift of life given.

Pompeii

Jack Stephenson - 2016

“It’s a hot day today” I thought to myself. I woke up and walked over to the fenestra to look over on to the sea that Neptune ruled. After, I got my tunic and headed out down out to the via. The via was very hot so I decided to put on my new Calcei. I walked down over to the bakery to get my daily wheat. I went in and said “ Hello Maximus” “ Is Jupiter being nice to you these days” “ Yeah I guess.”

As I got my morning wheat, I notice that Iullius (the dog) wasn’t around like usual. “ Where’s Illius today?” “ I don’t know?” “ Haven’t seen him this morning.” Said Maximus.

After that I strolled on up the via toward my farm. I felt a little shake in the ground but nothing happened so I headed on up towards the farm closer and closer to Vulcan.

As I strolled closer toward to farm I saw some animals running away but I didn’t know what from. I got to the open land where I grew my barley and saw the plow where I had left it from yesterday and walked over. I put my hands on the holding rods and felt a sudden rush of hot temperature.

I wondered why the wood is so hot. It’s only 9 o’clock and Apollo is just starting to ride over the sky.

Well, I guess I had through it if I wanted to get sufficient work done today.

After a good 2 hours of plowing and seeding I walked on down to the village. As I entered I saw the local wheat store , Optimus , on my left. I walked into the store and saw a couple of other people in the back having some wine and wheat. I walked in to greet Maximus. “ Maximus how come you’re here? Shouldn’t you be running your store?” “ No Closed for today…..too hot.”

That’s when the rumble of the Vulcan filled our ears with his yell. We all looked outside and saw a column of black pierce the blue sky. I could almost see the ugly face of Vulcan within the black column. We ran out of the store to get a better view and I saw Vulcan’s army heading straight down Vesuvius closer and closer to me every time I breathed.

Once I got my head straight I sprinted to my casa and headed toward my room.

I looked in to see the helpless faces of my beautiful family.

“ Let’s go, Let’s go. Vulcan’s army is coming closer and closer.”

We all ran for the bathhouses where Vulcan might not reach us. It was very hot and the black column had spread into the village. It was hard to breathe and we could barely see through the hot black snow which pierced our eyes with the heat.

Once we got into the bathhouse I could feel the presence of other people but could not see for the black snow had captured the light and hope of the people.

The closer the army got the more I felt more helpless. Now the army was so close I couldn’t even hear the sob of my son Augustus. Then the army took over my soul and dropped it in the underworld like all the others in Pompeii.

The Snow Dog Keith Radler - 2015

1.

In my warm, comfortable bed, Sleeps the little puppy I found, On the cold, snowy ground, Where he shivered and shook behind a tree, Till I picked him up and brought him in.

His hair was matted and mangy, Like the hair of a boy just awoken form bed, He quivered and trembled in my arms, His paws like wooly socks, He was black and white, And I looked into his eyes, I saw fear and panic in his pupils, And he tried to squirm out of my grip.

I fed him meat and milk, His tail wags when I bring it towards him, So much he just rest under my covers, He bends back his ears to escape from sound, Like an old man who is ready to depart the world, He no longer shudders when I come close to him.

2.

This morning I woke up and my fluffy friend had departed, I searched all around but nowhere could he be found, Where has he gone, my little puppy?

Is he safe and sound or is he in danger?

In the range of a hunters gun, In the glowing eyes of a fox, Or under the spell of Winter’s wrath.

I think of the cardinal dead by my door, The mouse gasping for breath on the road, The blind man, unaware of the tremendous boulder coming toward him.

All of them blameless, doomed, abandoned.

The Coward Grant Pierce - 2015

Alone I walked, Late at night, To see what I could see, At the hiss of a cat I shivered in fright, As I did with the buzzing, blundering bee As I turned the corner I saw a fight, So I ran as fast as my legs could carry me.

To the country is where I found my self, In the outskirts of the town, Like an old discarded doll I looked And lost I became in the dreary wood, Hearing not a human sound, I fell asleep, Many worries in my mind, Me, a constantly stalked sheep.

In the wee hours of the morning, The rain came pouring down, I woke confused, But soon remembered, My flight from the town, Some smoke I saw in the distance,

I rejoiced because I’d been found.

But as I raced toward my savior, My conscience began to scream, Get out, turn back, There’s nothing to be seen, But listen I did not, So I hurried on my way, For fear of being lost again, And not knowing the way.

I came upon a dreary shack, Tattered and rundown, I was just about to turn away, When I herd a peculiar sound, A woman all dressed in black, Appeared from behind the fire.

To terrified to move, I was rooted to the spot, But then she grasped my hand, And the horror in my sole, Was like a deer right before its shot, “A coward you have been”, “For evermore you shall be”, With that she released my hand, And the world spun round and round.

For now I am a Buck And are cursed to run, Whenever I hear a sound.

I rejoiced because I’d been found.

But as I raced toward my savior, My conscience began to scream, Get out, turn back, There’s nothing to be seen, But listen I did not, So I hurried on my way, For fear of being lost again, And not knowing the way.

I came upon a dreary shack,

The greatest pleasure in life is doing what people say you cannot do.

- Author Unknown

PLayland Connor Boyle - 2017

It was a cold night and I was soaking wet

why would he want me to get whipped around?

because I had just gotten off the Log Flume at

We got on the seat, lifted the bar down and then

Playland. My mom and dad were urging me to go

a man came around making sure the bars were

on the Dragon Coaster. I wasn’t really in the mood

secure. When we were seated the man put his

because I was freezing with water all over me. That

hands on the lever. He gave a huge yank, and

was the only ride at Playland that I was fully afraid

we were off. First we were spiraling upward and

of. You went around in lots of circles and you went

when we got all the way to the top we went

through a life-sized dragon. You would come out at

down like a lightning bolt. Once we got to the

the end but it was still scary. I was clinging to my

bottom we started spiraling upward again. This

mom when I was in line. I could hear the dragon

time when we got to the top the dragon was

saying, “You’re done, kid, you won’t make it out

right in front of us. I could hear his evil laugh,

alive.” I didn’t even know if I was tall enough to

“Ha ha ha.” When we went through its mouth I

ride. When the attendant said I was tall enough I

was screaming at the top of my lungs.

squeezed my mom even harder. I walked up the

“Mommy!” Finally we came out the other end.

steps to the gate. We had to wait for our turn.

We went down and the ride came to a sudden

When the roller coaster cars came back and

stop. We lifted the bar up and left. Then we all

everyone got off, the man opened the gate. I went

had some delicious cotton candy. The Dragon

in the back with my dad, because he said you

Coaster was my favorite ride.

would get whipped around. I thought he loved me;

“I am fond of pigs. Dogs look up to us. Cats look down on us. Pigs treat us as equals.”

- Winston Churchill

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Tucker Johnston - 2015

Dark and Chill this Haunted Eve was For my mother had withered of age and died Like a Wilting Daisy on the verge of the Winter Months Leaving me crushed and practically dead myself I was alone More alone than likeable The only sound I heard was Silence The Sound of Silence I could feel a deepening darkness beginning to fill me A hole in my soul Only to filled with darkness and hatred Patched up with the band-aid of the Grim Reaper I felt angry, Furious And yet dark, and lonely As if an apocalypse bringing the end to all living creatures had come And I was the only one left I was so furious at nothing And just as I was about to scream I felt a chill Greater than all other chills Come upon me like a wave from the ocean blue

It hit me at once And when it did I realized it…..

I was in the presence of a dark spirit One to haunt me or drag me to the fiery pits of hell All my candles went out but one One ominously floating in mid air I hurled my pillow at the lone candle Only to have it blown out and suppressed even more by a haunted wave of darkness Out of fear I yelled “Haunt me no longer!”

The only response was a shrill scream Like one from a deranged monkey I saw the dark burden I had been facing right in front of my eyes It was death himself The cold dead bones of the grim reaper In a ripped shadowed cloak made out of the souls of the dead His head reached out, he opened his mouth and swallowed my soul That instance I felt the transfer from a living person To a haunted soul floating in nothing for ever The change was quick Painless And although I do not know why the bony fingers of Death Himself Summoned me here But I was now dead and all I saw was nothing And after this transition from life to death I was hurled into a black shadow cast upon me by the evil ringmaster of life and death Into a puzzle never solved

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I could run as far as possible Only to end up in the same cloak of shadows and nothingness After the Ringmasters possessed laugh had faded away, All I ever heard again was Silence

The Sound Of Silence

Without Dreams Keith Radler - 2015

Without dreams what are you?

A stick in the ground, A rock that is round, A box that is square, A gem that is not rare.

With dreams what are you?

A bird flying high, right into the sky.

Always flying, rarely crying, flying higher and higher, never going to stop, until it reaches the top of the top.

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The Woeful Wind Andrew Tierno ‐ 2017

The flow of the branches in the wind

Across valleys bright and dim

The silent gentle sweep

The quiescent whistle soft and sweet

Across sullen plains and vivid fields

A lone bird on the unseeable winds

And canyons dark and deep

Lets out a lonely tweet

The Dove William Darling - 2015

The old man hadn’t always been mad, Replaced by that of happiness and joy,

In the prime of his youth he was really quite glad,

Like he still was just a very small boy.

A fire in his eye, a spirit in his heart, But, something strange happened, one warm sunny day,

A man of much vigor, dashing looks, apart.

He changed his appearance in a significant way But know, he wears a scowl on his face, He didn’t get taller, his hair didn’t grow,

His heart, once of joy, is now empty space.

Nor did he decide to live again like a crow.

His old friends, deserted him, they have, He became a small bird, one gentle, a dove.

Even his love, a girl he called Lav.

Changed because of his heart was of love.

He lives now on a cliff almost darker than he, But slowly, I noticed, up in the sky,

And lives a strange life, one without any glee.

Another old friend, had passed him near by.

Until one day, without any fear, The dove he first met when his heart was like bone,

A beautiful dove chose to go near.

Had come, gently cooing, to take the man home.

It’s small, white wings, a beauty to the eyes And as they were flying, into the bright sun,

Perched on the window, much to his surprise.

I hoped the old man would keep having fun.

Yet as soon as it left, something mysterious did occur, Even to the villagers, it still is a blur.

The shrewd man of old, was gone like a streak His once dark memory, itself, was now bleak.

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The Man Who Fell Into the Ocean Keith Radler - 2015

Happened when he was fishing,

Once I fell into the ocean,

His pole started to tug and turn,

Felt like I was going to drown, but now

Something big was on his line,

Sometimes my blood races and I think

He tried to reel it in,

I could go mad for joy.

But the fish won and the man fell into the ocean.

In the summer he vanished. South He’s been gone for days now,

Some said, For the Caribbean islands. Jokes

Haven’t seen him since.

Of transformation were made. However,

Until today,

Some of us can still hear his cries of joy on the ocean.

When he swam out like a fish.

All covered with seaweed,

And I remember him as he left,

His smooth skin reflecting the light of the sun,

With a watery smile on his face,

His fingers were webbed,

As he left for freedom and happiness

His eyes shined with glee,

And swam toward the setting sun…

He was restless to depart and be free from the pull of land.

and toward a better place.

Then he said,

The End Nicholas Cline - 2016

The day is August 23 79 A.D., and the busy Pompeii residents are still cleaning up from the latest tremor of the earth caused by Neptune. This god is not happy, and we cannot stop his rage no matter how hard we try. Suddenly, I am awakened by the sound of my mother calling me. She announces that it is time to eat breakfast. I don my tan wool tunic and leather sandals. I find my mother in the tablinum, where she hands me my breakfast of crispy twigs, sweet, juicy fruit, and some warm bread.

After breakfast, I decide to step outside of my home. I quickly perceive a change in the way the air usually smells. Although the change is not dramatic, it is still noticeable none-the-less. When I take a deep breath, it stings my insides with a relentless force until I release it. Then a breeze approaches, and the noxious scent is gone, blown away I hope forever, taken back by the gods.

As I walk around the neighborhood, I see crowds of people murmuring about the passing of the odd odor. I move along, not standing in one place, so I can see as much of the damage to the city from the tremors the day before. The people of the city seem to be in relatively good condition.

The buildings, however, seem to have suffered some damage, but the city could still function without much disruption. I pick up my pace because I have errands to run for my mother at the marketplace. I arrive back at home in time for dinner, tired from running around the city all day. I finish my food, and curl up on my straw mat, easily falling asleep.

I wake up the next morning to the same stench as yesterday, but now it is stronger, much stronger than I ever remember it to be. I stand up to look out of the hole in our tablinum wall. I am bewildered as I spy dark flakes of snow-like particles fluttering about in the gloomy sky. I walk into

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the courtyard, so I can feel the strange substance being dropped by the gods. As I ponder why the gods seem to be punishing us, I realize that our water well will be contaminated if I do not cover it quickly. I walk over to the well to survey the water condition, and I am shocked to see that the well is barren! This is a rare sign that shows the gods’ displeasure. I am truly scared now. The pain in my chest is worsening as I breathe in the poisonous fumes.

The sky is almost pitch-black now, but it is only early afternoon. I walk outside to see a huge funnel of smoke atop Mount Vesuvius rising into the Gods’ realm. Chaos abounds as people are running toward the boats, fighting for their lives through the crowds. The black snow is coming down in heavy loads now, forcing people to keep moving, so they are not buried in it. I go back home to alert my mother that we need to escape, but as I am about to enter, the roof collapses. My mother has disappeared in the rubble. I have no time to lose. My lungs are burning and I can hardly breathe, but I must make it to a boat. I reach the boathouse and huddle with other stranded people because all of the boats have left without us. Moments later, Vulcan’s sweat engulfs everyone.

The heat burns my flesh, but I do not feel anything as the candle of life inside me slowly flickers out.

Man and the Machine Keith Radler - 2015

Man’s creation of machine,

People would need to know the news.

Has improved many lives,

What was to happen, what was to be their fate?

And to make it achieve more,

But people could not check the Internet,

Man does strive.

Or listen to the radio, They’d be forced to wait and wonder without the machines.

But what if someone, Were to Press the off button,

What would they do all day?

And all that man accomplished,

Man has become so reliant on the technological luxuries,

Was completely demolished?

Like a TV or a computer.

Perhaps people would start to read or

Chaos would rule,

Spend more time with family…

People would be trying to contact others

Well perhaps that wouldn’t be so bad.

But telephones, e-mail, and texting, Would all be gone,

For man is maker of the machine,

The President would try to reach other lands

But the machine is master of man.

But they could not be reached without the machines.

Mac Book Pro "Before you criticize someone, walk a mile in their shoes. That way, you'll be a mile from them, and you'll have their shoes." - Jack Handy

Perry Boyle - 2015

Cool as in difference to the touch at first Heat only comes from the hands that touch the keys Swift, soft, and soothing fingers run over my face.

He owns me, I am his slave I am his workhouse that carries his load His load of documents and pictures… and games I come to life and become warm when I boot up As he types my keys click like a machine gun at the end of a round My glowing face lights up the darkest night.

He owns me, I am his slave For I am his workhorse that carries his load.

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The Brunswick 2010 Lit-Git Crew (from top left): Andrew Tierno, Kirk Meyer, Teddy Cassoli, Daniel Hughes, Keith Radler, Andreas Tonkens, Keshav Raghavan, Grant Pierce, and Grant MacFaddin