Intergalactic Summit

Such lovely examples I've seen over the last day or so. Please post a few lines if you have some you'd like to share.


For a special someone who will cry bitter tears further down the road...




I came here to break you, for the callous b*tch you are

came to suck your insides out, and sparkle like a star...

Look closely. This is me.
A tiny candle out in space.
I know I'm hard to see,
but I am happy with my place.
And even though I have been sat
half-hidden, unassuming at
the corner of the pricket stand,
I'm lit by God's own hand.

Although it hurts to burn,
although it brings me wounds and scars,
I pray and hope and yearn
to light that void between the stars.
I know that I will always trust
that we are more than dirt and dust.
That flesh and blood and pride and shame
can turn to light and flame.

By God's hand spun and dipped,
and then ignited with his spark;
He made me well-equipped
to do my part, to fight the dark.
I'll strive to make my soul take flight
from wax and wick to warmth and light;
to burn and shine for all to see.
Look closely. This is me.

So conflicted...

It's poetry, and yet...

It's Silas.

What to do?!

von Khan, I have to meet this woman. I don't suppose I could get her name, somehow?


The Cluster is Him, personified
I fly through space, in constant awe
Stars like sapphires, nebulae of silk
Each sight a beauty, each Divine

I was lost in darkness
my hope torn away
abandoned by my love
cast aside by my State

in my heart of darkness, a light appeared
Salvation , delivered as by and angel

The offer of Eternity
The Strength of Will
By Blood I am reborn

In this light of Salvation
The fire of Hope rekindled
I have found a home
There is no Darkness

The offer of Eternity
The Strength of Will
By Blood I am reborn

Convoy

At the staging point, the convoy slowly moves into formation
like the dark, imposing buildings of a floating, moving town,
till they all are in alignment, the command to warp is given,
and each ship becomes a silent, skinless world unto its own.

At the center of the convoy is an armored deep-space transport;
it is filled with many thousand cubic meters worth of fuel
for the distant frontier station that will be their destination;
but the way that they will have to take is long and hard and cruel.

Somewhere along the way, a bloody battlefield is waiting
to well up from the depths of space and catch them unawares.
They all wait for it to happen, from their weaponless positions;
exchange smiles of reassurance, to alleviate their fears.

How far away it is, the distant safety of the harbor,
and how thin, the walls that shield them from the emptiness outside.
They can hear their own hearts beating, they can hear the next man breathing,
and they do their work in silence, each one pale and terrified.

They have lived through other journeys; staggered blind through smoke and gas leaks
over decks that were ripped open and exposed to empty space.
while toxic fumes were leaking through the filters of their jumpsuits;
and each place where there was air to breathe, was already ablaze.

They've sat crammed in flimsy jumpcraft to escape the conflagration,
with nothing but a thruster drive to move themselves around.
They have wondered which comes first of suffocation and starvation,
while they've sent their distress signals, in the hope they would be found.

They are not in any navy. They're not warriors or soldiers.
They are ordinary people. They are only in the war.
They have only one desire as they step aboard their vessel:
To survive another journey, like they did the ones before.

An explosion! Are they hit? No - no, not they - the ship behind them.
Then the enemy's upon them, and explosions flash through space.
An escort frigate hurls itself against the first attackers,
letting loose with all its weapons as it savagely gives chase.

All the escorts know what hate is. They have orders to keep moving,
to fly past the burning wrecks, and leave survivors to their fate.
They have heard their callsigns screamed in desperation on the comm links;
and those dead men's voices drive them on, to hunt and kill and hate.

Then, in the very moment the attacker catches fire
And the escort captain signals to the convoy that they've won,
a torpedo hits the transport, tearing through the hull amidships,
and the cargo catches fire. It is over. They are gone.

And the convoy moves on forward. One more comm-link channel muted,
so that they won't need to listen to the final, horrid screams.
Instead, they all keep quiet, with their gazes fixed before them,
and a swift, unspoken prayer to the tired escort teams.

To the next gate, and the next one, till their sleepless watch is over,
till they dock their ships and disembark as tired, haunted men,
till they drown the screams and whispers in the mercy of a bottle,
till the ship takes on new cargo, and they must embark again.

Oh, Starcakes
Oh, Quafe
Oh, Starcakes

Starcakes, Starcakes, Starcakes

Gallente Expatriate Blues

Say this planet has ten billion souls,
Some are living in mansions, some are living in holes:
Yet there's no place for us, my dear, yet there's no place for us.

Once we had a State and we thought it fair,
Look at the starmap and you'll find it there:
We cannot go there now, my dear, we cannot go there now.

In the village churchyard there grows an old yew,
Every spring it blossoms anew:
Old papers can't do that, my dear, old papers can't do that.

The consul banged the table and said,
"If you've got no papers you're officially dead":
But we are still alive, my dear, but we are still alive.

Went to a committee; they offered me a chair;
Asked me politely to return next year:
But where shall we go to-day, my dear, but where shall we go to-day?

Came to a public meeting; the speaker got up and said;
"If we let them in, they will steal our daily bread":
He was talking of you and me, my dear, he was talking of you and me.

Thought I heard the thunder rumbling in the sky;
It was Heth on the channels, saying, "They must die":
O we were in his mind, my dear, O we were in his mind.

Dreamed I saw a building with a thousand floors,
A thousand windows and a thousand doors:
Not one of them was ours, my dear, not one of them was ours.

Stood on a great plain in the falling snow;
Ten thousand soldiers marched to and fro:
Looking for you and me, my dear, looking for you and me.

Von, for you, I have but one word.






Run.

Hostiles are red
Friendlies are blue
Shoot them all
And blame overview.

I may aswell contribute to these works of art.
This is an old Adakul poem that has been recited in my family since as long as I can remember:


I make the heavens and the earth my parents.

I have no home:

I make awareness my home.

I have no life or death:

I make the tides of breathing my life and death.

I have no divine power:

I make honesty my divine power:

I have no means:

I make understanding my means.

I have no magic secrets:

I make character my magic secret.

I have no body:

I make endurance my body.

I have no eyes:

I make the flash of lightning my eyes.

I have no ears:

I make sensibility my ears.

I have no limbs:

I make promptness my limbs.

I have no strategy:

I make “unshadowed by thought” my strategy.

I have no designs:

I make seizing opportunity by the forelock my design.

I have no miracles:

I make right action my miracles.

I have no principles:

I make adaptability to all circumstances my principles.

I have no tactics:

I make emptiness and fullness my tactics.

I have no talents:

I make ready with my talent.

I have no friends:

I make my mind my friend.

I have no enemy:

I make carelessness my enemy.

I have no armour:

I make benevolence and righteousness my armour.

I have no castle:

I make immovable mind my castle.

I have no sword:

I make absence of self my sword.