Trinity College School - Record Yearbook (Port Hope, Ontario Canada)

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Muze ol' man lleturnccl to dust of klgC Became as God - lneffuble. Wanting Life I sit here and think about the words that come to my mind the ones that tell of the torment in my withering soul and I cry upon a silent pillow about the days every one the same ofthe rich and the poor nf life and death and him and her no one to be themselves but to be all 'Society' can find the 'Dead' walls vibrate my scream to my soul a mortal blow that leaves an imprint that none can erase 't'hrist , the tears blow through screaming lids Life, the way they think: WHAT a farce a nd I drown in old memories breaking the shell around my brain uf Cath and -lim and Jenn and Tom No. I plead and my shell erupts in dormant fury :intl I stand. naked. ALL ALONE. A nd Sick! l light and fling all before :incl the face I Love appears :incl signilics all l hate yet burns in a sinking mind thi-y've won as another crushed individual -inks in the glory of their own efvcntuzil death I I l I I I and yet I can't say defeat and then become one of them again death would appear a better life than surrendering all I am To THEM an unfeeling mass of conforming minds ' and slowly a hush decends on my crashing mind and body never will this day fade from my closing brain as hurt and shattered love f'11ls every pore and no more, will I try to make them see to see every thought I thought of them and of HER Cremated, in a blazing fire of all my old ideals and the animal they call the thinking man thinking of naught but being accepted in the swirling crowd Everything is lost, even a hope of life, my 'Life' and IDEALS so I wave good-bye in reality another empty phrase and slowly, I shut the power plant of all I am and fall a shattered man Goddamn I hear again the same old voice and I yell and scream for a better world and I explode into fragments of boiling death and I die Praise the Lord - R. R. Oskr Page I6

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Nothing An empty wasteland, dark and foreboding: No beast, no human would enter its groping fingers of gloom. Blackness, nothing is thereg but something must be there for no one would enter Just an unnamable something. The sun rose, good old sun who was always lighting the dark corners, No one was too afraid when the sun shone But the sun didn't seem to fully pierce the wasteland. Again the darkness: doors are bolted, owls boot, bats patrol the air like sinister symbols of suspense. The wasteland is silentg but listen! A scream, terror-laden, pitifully beseeching, breaks the silenceg the voice of a young woman cries out from the wasteland. For no good howeverg if anyone heard, they wouldn't help. No more sound, just emptiness. An empty wasteland, dark and foreboding: It contains nothing, nothing but the ability to strike your heart with terror by merely being .... nothing. -- S. .l I. ll'h1'Ic Page I5

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Dissolution Far off, I hear sirens whooping and wailing with a deathly tone. They become louder as l come to my senses. I reach out and my room becomes full of light. A force prods me on as I fearfully turn my radio to those 'special' marks. I don't think it's a fire - those sirens aren't fire ones. Yes, that's just what lthought. as I switch off the radio and sit back for the last ten minutes of my life. There is no point in trying to do anything to save myself. Man has finally managed to launch himself into eternity. My life flies past me in quick flashes - enjoyment and pain mixed in with happiness and sorrow. It all comes back to me - and it will be over within ten minutes. Death is a funny thing, you know. It creeps up behind you and stabs you in the back. So slow, yet so fast. But now I am at the block with the mighty 'button' as my executioner. I suppose I should regard death as more of a door than a wall. It just doesn't strike me that way. Oh God, what a mess the stupid world has brought upon itself. Bunch of bloody fools, anyway. But there's no point in getting angry, now of all times. I wonder how my parents feel about this. My not being at home. Iwonder if they are thinking about me. Probably. Ihope they don't even know what's happening. My younger brother probably doesn't understand all this. God, what a terrible thought! Might as well go and say good-bye to my friends. I guess I should make the most of what is left. I wonder how they feel about it. I doubt that they're too mad. There certainly isn't much point in it. Everyone looks pretty calm nowg I guess they realize that there's nothing to do except try and make the most of things and enjoy the last little while. Oh God, only five minutes left! As I walk in his room I look at him. He doesn't seem to care too much. Who can really care anyway? He says, Hi, nice night, ch? I sit down. Vl'cll, thcy'vu dune il . Yeah . 'Put on the record player . VVhy the hell now, thi: elcctricityis probably off anyway . I didn't sec why it should bc. but Ididn't want to press the matter. . ij ,l 1 l I ,sl J Xxx CK A Y xx I! xi l, -I. HL I: I .ll 'All right, suit yourself. Don't get mad now'. I just look at him for a while, and he looks back emptily. There's nothing to do or say now. I look at my watch. 'Three big ones left . He looks up, spitting out a slight laugh. 'Did you hear the one about .... No, forget it. Forget this whole world, for all I care . Well, the time has just about come now, I think to myself as I extend my hand in the last act of friendship I shall ever know. - C. H. Blake Dusk Dusk is upon us. As the long, dark shadows of night, Creeping slowly nearer, As the wind howls through the distant trees. As cats set out on their nocturnal wanderings, Prowling, Searching through the night of silence, As the dew forms And settles on the spring grass, The night is born. - Rall. Butler Page I7