I saw her through an alien iris,
Felt the coldness of her feet,
Billions, and billions, of light years away,
On the other side of the street.
Keep walking, I thought (to her, not me).
Don't try to raise the dead.
You'll only succeed in rousing the beast,
Which, once wakened, must be fed.
But she chose to ignore my telepathy,
Preferring optimism's spiteful lies.
Poisonous hope pervaded her being;
I could see it in her eyes.
"I’m sorry," she said, walking up to me,
Her face lit with a hopeful glow.
"You're sorry?" I said, with an indistinct smile.
"Tell me something I don't know."
Secret Handshakes and Poison Darts by Neo128, literature
Literature
Secret Handshakes and Poison Darts
The more halcyon the spirits,
The more dangerous they became.
All proceeds as was expected—
Abomination in all but name.
Ataraxis, enacting the death of dread,
Rendered bloody severance—
Black terror sheathed its dripping claws,
And paid trembling reverence.
The foolish will suffer the hardest road,
Being blessed with a holy mission—
To see who can, with the greatest speed,
Reach advanced decomposition.
Ho! A pox upon ye slatterns!
Unaccustomed to cultured uses—
Run to raise a bawling hue and cry
Against our "dire abuses".
Our cabal precludes the cleansing flames,
No excuses will be accepted.
Tell
"... Leave sleeping curs to their mongrel dreams;
Compliance is a must.
The consequences of disregard
Are best left undiscussed..."
"... Some have spurned the warning,
Claiming knowledge of the species.
If you meet them, please remember
Not to stare at their prostheses..."
"... Others chose to venture in,
Dismissing circumspection,
And were treated to the 'courtesy'
Of impromptu vivisection... "
"... The 'lucky' ones were 'lightly' scarred
(More credit to their scheming);
Their 'victory' only 'slightly' marred
By the nights they wake up screaming..."
Uh-oh—Here comes your ignorance
(Well—I did buy it the jet it flies in).
I see it swooping gracefully,
Just above the event horizon.
I see your ignorance sidling in,
Disguised as a conversation.
It’s a trick that’s never worked before,
But I admire its dedication.
It's elbow-crawling in now,
And it's thinking I can’t tell.
I will admit it’s changed its look,
But it never could hide that smell.
You keep inviting your ignorance,
Like an old friend come to dine—
And the only thing it ever does
Is open the door to mine.
I saw her through an alien iris,
Felt the coldness of her feet,
Billions, and billions, of light years away,
On the other side of the street.
Keep walking, I thought (to her, not me).
Don't try to raise the dead.
You'll only succeed in rousing the beast,
Which, once wakened, must be fed.
But she chose to ignore my telepathy,
Preferring optimism's spiteful lies.
Poisonous hope pervaded her being;
I could see it in her eyes.
"I’m sorry," she said, walking up to me,
Her face lit with a hopeful glow.
"You're sorry?" I said, with an indistinct smile.
"Tell me something I don't know."
Secret Handshakes and Poison Darts by Neo128, literature
Literature
Secret Handshakes and Poison Darts
The more halcyon the spirits,
The more dangerous they became.
All proceeds as was expected—
Abomination in all but name.
Ataraxis, enacting the death of dread,
Rendered bloody severance—
Black terror sheathed its dripping claws,
And paid trembling reverence.
The foolish will suffer the hardest road,
Being blessed with a holy mission—
To see who can, with the greatest speed,
Reach advanced decomposition.
Ho! A pox upon ye slatterns!
Unaccustomed to cultured uses—
Run to raise a bawling hue and cry
Against our "dire abuses".
Our cabal precludes the cleansing flames,
No excuses will be accepted.
Tell
"... Leave sleeping curs to their mongrel dreams;
Compliance is a must.
The consequences of disregard
Are best left undiscussed..."
"... Some have spurned the warning,
Claiming knowledge of the species.
If you meet them, please remember
Not to stare at their prostheses..."
"... Others chose to venture in,
Dismissing circumspection,
And were treated to the 'courtesy'
Of impromptu vivisection... "
"... The 'lucky' ones were 'lightly' scarred
(More credit to their scheming);
Their 'victory' only 'slightly' marred
By the nights they wake up screaming..."
Uh-oh—Here comes your ignorance
(Well—I did buy it the jet it flies in).
I see it swooping gracefully,
Just above the event horizon.
I see your ignorance sidling in,
Disguised as a conversation.
It’s a trick that’s never worked before,
But I admire its dedication.
It's elbow-crawling in now,
And it's thinking I can’t tell.
I will admit it’s changed its look,
But it never could hide that smell.
You keep inviting your ignorance,
Like an old friend come to dine—
And the only thing it ever does
Is open the door to mine.
Ever notice the further we "progress",
The fiercer things seem to get;
How things once thought unspeakable,
These days, won't break a sweat?
It's because the most aggressive ones
Are the ones that stay alive,
While your passive, easygoing sorts
Don't, usually, survive.
Human history’s a bloody business;
That’s a mild interpretation.
And all outcomes are direct results
Of the feral effect's causation.
That we’re the spawn of savagery
Is no hypothetical leap;
This well of "civilization" we’ve dug
Ain’t really all that deep.
So praise the new god, technology,
Beginning of the End of Days by Neo128, literature
Literature
Beginning of the End of Days
“Exquisite nymph! Forgive me.
If my approach defies convention;
Your delightfully nubile aspects
Have commanded my attention.”
“May we, my darkly lovely lass,
Skip formal introduction?
I merely wish to hone my skills
In the cold art of seduction.”
“I can clearly see you’re new here;
A fresh cog in our machine
(I jump to no conclusions, dear—
Your aura smells too clean).”
“I‘ve the morals of a centaur,
And an aim as sure as death.
The witch-king cursed me a thousand times
(Not bad for a dying breath).”
“See you speak no ills of the newly dead
(A faux pas i
You calculate the possible benefit to yourself
Before you consider any act of love
Toward a woman.
You chill your own heart sucking the blood
Out of those women who try to care.
And still you baffle yourself.
I fail to calculate the possible harm to myself
Before I take on any act of love
Toward a man.
In your book, that makes me pathetic.
And yeah, it left me bitter and broken and ready to punch
Someone in the face, which I too call pathetic.
But what stands as the most enduring token of disdain
Is your way of spreading service and consideration
To everyone around, except me. Lying to my face
With pasted panache telling me I'm always wel