Passing Fads of My Youth #2: Yo-Yos

My real father...in a dream once.

Ah, the ever popular yo-yo. Many a recess did I spend perfecting tricks with any one of my three weapons of choice: a Duncan Imperial, a Playmaxx Butterbee, or a Yomega Brain, essentially a triumvirate of awe and glory. These toys were designed so you could show off in front of your friends. They weren't even that fun, or cool for that matter.

Smell the cool.

If you failed a trick, you may as well kill yourself and be saved from a lot of trouble because you'll never live it down, akin to shooting an air ball at a basketball game; everybody just shouts, "Air ball!" at you the rest of the game, and you end up missing every shot. If you didn't pour your heart and soul into yo-yo mastery, there was no point. It was like a zen art-form for elementary school students; you had to mind-meld with the toy, become one with it.

One with the yo

Essentially, to the non-yo master, the goal of yo-yo is to do as many insane things with the yo-yo in one "sleep" as is humanly (or robotically) possible. "Sleeping" the yo-yo is when the user engages his yo-yo so that when the yo-yo reaches the end of the string it spins in place rather than rolling back up the string to the thrower's hand. This opens the door to many other tricks, explained in detail here, like "rock the baby," seen below,which, by the way, ladies, I can perform.

hot.

While yo-yos proved to be a trusty staple of 5th-8th grade for me, they were very prone to becoming lost and/or broken and/or lost and broken at the same time, and, no, I don't know how that last one works. But hate them or love them, yo-yos have etched themselves into our memories and the very history of America.

Morning Star, Pt. II

by Stephen Byrne

Thy pride hath blinded, thee, O Morning Star.
Thy own hatred hath pulled the wool over thine eyes.
For I AM WHO I AM, and this shan't be undone,
Who was and is and will forever be so.
Didst thou thinkest thou could ascend to My throne?
Thou art a fool, and thy punishment is meted.
Thou art cursed to the earth, to inhabit it,
To walk amongst the creation you despise.
And though thou leadest all I love towards destruction,
The worst of Sheoul is reserved for thee.
Bosoms of fire are stored up for thee.
Lakes of flame shall be thy abode.
And though in that day, thou shalt desire Me
My face shall be eternally turned away.
Mine eyes be blinded to thy suffering,
And Mine ears deafened to thy cries of pain.
As for My children, thy enemies, thy prey.
I Myself shall free them from thy claws.
Thou wouldst destroy them, but I love them!
And I shall do what must be done to save them.
Thou will laugh in that day, for thy victory seemeth sure,
But eternal victory is Mine, for I am the LORD!!
Thou thinkest to ascend to be a god, but nay,
There is but one God, one Ruler of heaven, one Master,
And He is not created but forever.
Thou art naught but a work of Mine hands.
What share dost thou have in My regality?
What dominion can thou hold over heaven?
My foe thou wilt be, but not My equal.
Do not be mistaken, thy defeat is sure,
But with my decision, not thine own.
Thus saith the LORD God of hosts.

Camp Poetry

A few poems I wrote at camp

by Stephen Byrne

"When God Dies"

Blood streams like rivers of death
Flowing forth from fresh wounds
Dyeing the ground crimson beneath
As the Life slowly ebbs away
Cries of pain shatter the skies
Echoing into the very seat of heaven
Into the very ear of God as He weeps aloud
But He stays his hands
For it is being finished
The great Work of all eternity
What all history has groaned for
And it demands His death.

"To End All Wars"

Trampled in the stale earth
Beset by vicious attack
Left for dead depraved, alone
Wedded to wanton destruction
My eyes scan the heavens
Anticipating some relief
But nothing quenches fire
Raging against my flesh
Questions flood my mind
Yet answers never arrive
Silence is become my bane
Blood my sole brother
As red runs down my arms
Guilty of murder, self-induced
Suicide, for I destroy myself
Isolate from who would help
A fool to the end
A slave to the last.

"An Exploration in Mortality: Part A"

Frightening. Horrifying. Cold.
Macabre darkness overwhelming.
Into terror quickly delving.
Life surrendered, in slav'ry sold.
The blame resides in me alone.
Shame weighs as worlds upon my back.
Soul suff'ring ne'er ending attack.
Sorrow aches sinew and bone.

"Redemption"

Such is my unwelcomed life
Wrought with loneliness and strife
Crippling hurt, beset by grief
Unending pain with no relief
Shunned by fate, embraced by hell
And darkness reigns in every cell
I feel myself be torn apart
A shattered soul, a broken heart
Shuddering with every breath
I long to die, there is no death
My lungs, they heave, my head, it pounds
My heartbeat drolls with empty sounds
Misery is my closest friend
Yet seeks to bring about my end
All that remains is naught to give
This is no life, yet I must live