EVE Fiction

Hello there, my little crackpots, It is only I, L'Toni...

I have noticed that it is mostly people without any education or imagination that play EVE. So in order to improve the standards of EVE and maybe even ignite a spark of interest in people for a little bit of poetry, I have decided to open a thread for Eden's most notorious poets.

I shall start with a controversial poem which was dedicated to a retired ol' pirate dog, a most vile and hideous creature ever to fly the space lanes of Jita and Amarr, an epiphany of cruelty and evil and ingenious piratical mastery. Namely me. So **** off unbelievers!


The Filthy Buccaneer

Hi there, filth, the name 's Toni
a handsome devil am I
but truth be told, if I can be so bold
I seek a new life and a try

I stole and pillaged, I raped and burned,
was a very very naughty guy,
but now IT is dead and all left for HED,
im out of a job and cant spy.

Show me some pity and lend me a hand
For I know secrets, truths and lies
Give me a home next to your band
and Ill be there to shoo away your spies

Cross my palm with 100m isk
Fame and fortune of yours I shall reveal
But please dont be stupid, greedy and brisk
Or Ill find something of yours to steal

Poetry.
Countless years ago, while lost in barren seas
There whispered murmurs of a bloody mutiny
We took up arms and slayed the officers of rank
And with swords drawn, made the captain walk the plank

But as he fell down to the depths, he swore a deadly curse
"As sure as hell's my final fate, You'll all soon die or worse"
Now as we stand before the gallows waiting for the end
I'll say these final words my friend

At sunrise we will dance the hempin jig
So raise up your pint of rum and take another swig
The curse of Captain Morgan has lead us to this fate
So have no fear and don't look back
The afterlife awaits!

We returned to port with sorrow in our chests
An evil shadow followed us on every quest
Never to feel joy again was our fate
Only misery and death, fear and burning hate

We broke the law, betrayed the code
Now time is running out
An unforgivable offence
Oh, of that there is no doubt

Now as we stand before the gallows waiting for the end
I'll say these final words my friend

At sunrise we will dance the hempin jig
So raise up your pint of rum and take another swig
The curse of Captain Morgan has lead us to this fate
So have no fear and don't look back
The afterlife awaits!

Many years, have passed now
Yet, the curse still lives on
And now we rot, in a black prison cell
Waiting for our true calling in hell!

But for the lives we leave behind, don't shed a tear don't cry
The only way to break this curse is for us all to die
Now as we stand before the gallows waiting for the end
I'll say these final words my friend..

At sunrise we will dance the hempin jig
So raise up your pint of rum and take another swig
The curse of Captain Morgan has lead us to this fate
So have no fear and don't look back
The afterlife awaits!

~fin

There once was a man from Nantucket.

(I'll let others finish this limerick but the last time I posted this the thread disappeared mysteriously. )

Reminds me of some of the players in EVE

Mending Wall - Robert Frost

Something there is that doesn’t love a wall,
That sends the frozen-ground-swell under it
And spills the upper boulders in the sun,
And makes gaps even two can pass abreast.
The work of hunters is another thing:
I have come after them and made repair
Where they have left not one stone on a stone,
But they would have the rabbit out of hiding,
To please the yelping dogs. The gaps I mean,
No one has seen them made or heard them made,
But at spring mending-time we find them there.
I let my neighbor know beyond the hill;
And on a day we meet to walk the line
And set the wall between us once again.
We keep the wall between us as we go.
To each the boulders that have fallen to each.
And some are loaves and some so nearly balls
We have to use a spell to make them balance:
“Stay where you are until our backs are turned!”
We wear our fingers rough with handling them.
Oh, just another kind of outdoor game,
One on a side. It comes to little more:
There where it is we do not need the wall:
He is all pine and I am apple orchard.
My apple trees will never get across
And eat the cones under his pines, I tell him.
He only says, “Good fences make good neighbors.”
Spring is the mischief in me, and I wonder
If I could put a notion in his head:
“Why do they make good neighbors? Isn’t it
Where there are cows? But here there are no cows.
Before I built a wall I’d ask to know
What I was walling in or walling out,
And to whom I was like to give offense.
Something there is that doesn’t love a wall,
That wants it down.” I could say “Elves” to him,
But it’s not elves exactly, and I’d rather
He said it for himself. I see him there,
Bringing a stone grasped firmly by the top
In each hand, like an old-stone savage armed.
He moves in darkness as it seems to me,
Not of woods only and the shade of trees.
He will not go behind his father’s saying,
And he likes having thought of it so well
He says again, “Good fences make good neighbors.”

Thread locked for breaches of the above rules by the OP - ISD Type40.

IATUL!

Justice has been served!!!

My favorite "The Drunken Scotsman" :)

Well a Scotsman clad in kilt left a bar one evening fair
And one could tell by how he walked that he'd drunk more than his share
He fumbled round until he could no longer keep his feet
Then he stumbled off into the grass to sleep beside the street
Ring ding diddle diddle I de oh ring di diddly I oh
He stumbled off into the grass to sleep beside the street

About that time two young and lovely girls just happened by
And one says to the other with a twinkle in her eye
See young sleeping Scotsman so strong and handsome built
I wonder if it's true what they don't wear beneath the kilt
Ring ding diddle diddle I de oh ring di diddly I oh
I wonder if it's true what they don't wear beneath the kilt

They crept up on that sleeping Scotsman quiet as could be
Lifted up his kilt about an inch so they could see
And there behold, for them to view, beneath his Scottish skirt
Was nothing more than God had graced him with upon his birth
Ring ding diddle diddle I de oh ring di diddly I oh
Was nothing more than God had graced him with upon his birth

They marveled for a moment, then one said we must be gone
Let's leave a present for our friend, before we move along
As a gift they left a blue silk ribbon, tied into a bow
Around the bonnie star, the Scots kilt did lift and show
Ring ding diddle diddle I de oh ring di diddly I oh
Around the bonnie star, the Scots kilt did lift and show

Now the Scotsman woke to nature's call and stumbled toward the trees
Behind a bush, he lifts his kilt and gawks at what he sees
And in a startled voice he says to what's before his eyes.
O lad I don't know where you been but I see you won first prize
Ring ding diddle diddle I de oh ring di diddly I oh
O lad I don't know where you been but I see you won first prize

haiku

Just some festive fun
But pod pilot freaked out and ran--
Blue Copper Fireworks.

If time is measured as grains of sand,
then memory must surely be glass.
I walk this beach, with silver in hand,
perhaps a reflection will come to pass?

Ode to Turtle

Turtle, wise old saint
On your floating island
In a 20 gallon tank
When I play an E chord
Your head turns to hear
You have no choice, no...
My amp is quite near.

You look and you listen
As I noodle along
Picking at scales
Thrashing discordant songs
So I'll play a small rhythm
A cheery circular tune
For you, good turtle
Just only for you.

Do reptiles have rhythm?
I doubt that you do
But you're a good audience, bud
And a patient one too.