Posts Tagged ‘science’

I read of a callous man,
Who sought to be more than a man,
He began welding and fixing all sorts of changes,
Supercomputer intellect and mechanised physicality,
Steel replacing sinew,

Changes had to made,
These bloody organs had to go,
Their expiry was too impending,
First his heart torn out,
Feelings and all,

Humanity twisting into electricity,
His family values and dynasty melted down,
To become ore for his new frame,
Friendships thrown in the furnace,
His love for life became science fiction,

He slept in an old junkyard in the city,
He dreamed in binary,
Putting two and two together and getting seven,
Conclusions made in angst,
Errors in code,

True he is now more than a man,
Now he’s just man-made,
Now he is just metal,
Now he’s just a ghost in the machine,
Lost to data.

Upon a lonely cliff,
At the limits of our aged city,
There lies a slaughterhouse-cum-laboratory,
Haunted by a man who cured sanity,
A professor of touched genius,
An unhinged heretic of science,
An ireful storm engulfs the old building,
As if nature itself fulminates at the reality of the doctors toil,
An experiment is in progress,
A rital of scientific blasphemy,
His zeal is absolute,

This haven of heinous vision,
A tinkerers paradise,
Lightbulbs and tesla coils,
Tools of all ghastly shades,
Slabs that may or may not have laid cadavers,
Unfinished projects,
Some inanimate and others scream for attention,
But he is focused upon todays business now,
A scheme the bad doctor has wrought for decades,
A plot the entire world shall witness,
The science of revenge,

An ember of a bunsen there,
And a dash of periodic table salts here,
Wide-eyed he gazes at the vials,
The sickly serums within pulse energetically,
Signalling their readiness,
These shall be his magnum opus,
The vapours from these hell-mouthed vials,
They shall cleanse this city that demonised him so cruelly,
The city shall choke,
No longer able to disparage his mind,
Next the rest of the world.

Time oversees us all,
Within its hourglass booth,
Like a tiger unable to maul,
With fangs of sand,

We cannot escape it,
We are leashed to it,
Our bodies wilt and rot,
As the sand falls unquestioned,

The hourglass stands tall,
Upon an iron podium,
Like a dictator,
With gravity a willing sycophant,

A true oligarch,
This Father Time,
Emotionless and unrelenting,
Fists of platinum wearing us down,

And as the sand falls,
We shall fall too,
Into gaping graves,
Such is the edict of time.

An age-old remedy,
For an enemy,
Poisoners best friend,
A deadly tincture,
A snake in a bottle,
Fangs in the liquid,
A tasteless toxin,
A tasteless death,
Insidious in its design,
Even more so in its usage,
Bringing ruin to a body,
Cells die in droves,
The human frame soon follows,
Slowly and painfully succumbing,

What is it?

This keyboard,
This plastic muse,
An instrument of your will,
Like the typewriters of old,
With these keys,
Q and A and N,
You can fire off a qwerty salvo,
For ire or peace,
Be you philosopher or troll?

This keyboard,
It’s a portal to the world,
A bridge for communication,
Or a facade for animosity,
Your hands become megaphones,
For complaints and poetry and belle-lettres,
The keys enable your artifice,
For ill or morality,
Be you dictator or philanthropist?

I am aqua,
But not the oasis you envision,
Not a forward flowing river,
I am stagnant,
I’ve not swelled in decades,

I’m an environmental hazard,
Wretched liquid in a pit,
The flow goes nowhere,
Mold is my only ally,
In this hopeless broth,

Drop stones and I only groan,
As if revelling in the painful ripples,
Sharing tales of dreams,
With the skulls and scum floating about,
Mosquitoes come for autographes,

Misery is the prime bacteria here,
It would take a herculean effort,
To get this water flowing once again,
This swill shall grow no lotuses,
No futures.

I seem to have become lost,
In some kind of alien junkyard,
A menagerie of past industries,
Oxidation permeates this place,
Many dreams died here,

I find a pocketwatch,
It tells no time,
Every digit is thirteen,

I come across an automobile engine,
But it no longer combusts,
It only breathes vacuous rot and decay,

I find a thermometer,
But it remains cold,
The mercury has fled,

I pick up a toy soldier,
No longer among the honour guard,
His legs were eaten by a foe of rust,

I spy an old mirror,
It displays no human form,
The cracks generate glass monsters,

I may be very lost,
But i’m quite alright,
I’ll be fine,
My dreams are dead,
I too shall rust away.

There shall be a day,
When the sun perishes,
Even gods can die after all,
Apollo and Ra and Amaterasu,
All things come to an end,

Earth shall be awash,
With cleansing fire,
A supernova song,
A death rattle of a star,
A galactic graveyard chime,

Everything and everyone you know,
Shall be burned away,
Ash is the only future,
Hiroshima shadows,
No escape,

There is no malice in this apocalypse,
It’s just a funeral pyre,
An indifferent obliteration,
A simple natural metamorphosis,
Of light to dark.

I think I spy an assassin bug,
Stalking amongst the twigs,
A reduviid killer,
Aspect of mantis,
Proclivity of spider,
A tiny predator of a huge world,
Or is it a tiny one?
Does the world belong to the bugs?

Cloaked in the corpses of ants,
Previous ravaged conquests,
Both armour and disguise,
Its proboscis twitches,
Secreting a lethal nectar,
Expecting to digest defeated internals,
Fodder for an emotionless killer,
I see it close in on an innocent,

Unsuspecting soul on a branch,
It strikes,
All wings and blades,
Corrosive saliva injected,
Reducing chitin to husk,
Its grim meal complete,
It gazes over at me,
Eyeing me hungrily,

Fight or flight?