Poetry by Brooke and Aaron

Aaron and I wrote some poetry together. It was a joint effort. You might have to brace yourself for its staggering genius…!!

Worldberry Web

The world

Spins as a spider spins a web

As a strawberry spat red

Turning, wasting, until it’s slow, sure

Death

Engulfed

Darkness tears at my insides

The scarlet moon shines on my soul

The shadow shark feeds on my brain

The kidnapped youth seeps, pours

From every darkened corner of my being

Screaming, crying, pleading

For the icecream cone of childhood

That somehow melted away

Into a puddle of crimson blood

Never to be savored again

Happy as a Clam

The fans spin so brightly

Heaven’s ceiling is near

And you can hold me tightly

I will never fear

Like a bear who eats warm honey

Or a fat man with a beer

Happiness surrounds me

There will never be a tear

Scott: Show and Tell: Smiling Spider

As Seen on TV

In honor of our dear father, who kinda sorta has this problem. haha.

—–

Mr. Lombard was a man of relatively few vices. He always paid his taxes on time and donated to charitable causes. He was slow to anger and not very easily annoyed. He had good hygiene and superb health. He never scowled at children or honked at other drivers or kicked stray dogs. He did, however, have one fault; he simply could not resist television infomercials.

He was quickly sucked in by their outrageous claims and deceivingly low prices. “It’s a miracle product!” the smiling sponsors would claim. And he believed them. He had to have them. At 2 AM when his judgment was waning, his fingers would slip to the phone dial and he would place his orders. Mismatched products of every sort. Cheese graters, miracle dicers, foot massagers, ab strengtheners, laser pointers. You name it.

His house was littered with them. Most of the time they broke within a few months of their arrival. And he never used them for more than a year (sometimes not for more than a day). But he kept on buying them, despite many resolutions not to.  How could he resist when it only took 3 easy payments of $19.99?

Scott: Hand-written Letters!

I hereby propose that the former residents of Mililani now scattered throughout the mainland keep in touch not through Myface or Spacebook, but through the ancient form of communication known as “hand-written letters.”  The concept is simple; take out a piece of parchment, grab your goose feather or other writing implement and start writing!  You can open with a jovial greeting, then write down your thoughts, feelings, and ideas, and close with a terse expression of friendship.  Insert into an envelope and seal (preferably using a personalized seal with wax).  Place envelope into one of the magic blue boxes strewn throughout this land and it will be teleported to the location written on its front (it takes a few days).

Recieving such a letter is oh-so delightful.  Waddaya say?!        

Scott: Thoughts on Feelings

So how did it feel the last time you were really sick?  If you’re like me you can probably only remember it in the form of words.  The only way to truly remember being sick would be to feel sick – now.  And then your health would become equally elusive, disappearing into words.

 

The mode in which we are now taking things in bares little resemblance to the form in which they will be immortalized in our minds.  I’m starting to notice this key difference playing tricks.  When bad decisions are made it is often to escape from some horrid temporary emotion masquerading as eternal.  Indeed if we felt the feeling’s presence waning what would be so terribly horrid about it in the first place?

 

Although we know in our minds when that treasured moment of happiness comes that it will not last for always, it wouldn’t really be happiness if we felt its conclusion approaching.  And so we act accordingly: making grand plans for a future that exists only in the present that will probably be abandoned once we hit a patch of sadness just as permanent as was our joy.  How is one ever to escape this state of fluctuating permanence?