Intergalactic Summit

Tears in the ash of Caldari Prime
Brave Marines dead before their time
A victory, sure, but count the cost
Our home regained, but so much lost

I went back home to parades and song
But the music was dull with what was gone
My sister and I, now alone
Our mother lost at Ishukone

Battered and broken, given a place
Trained for the pod and sent to space
My life and loyalty tested by Heth
Something snapped and all is Death

A monster now with a pretty face
A soul as dark as the black of space
Bound now only by my will
Innocent and guilty both I kill

Drowning then in a crimson flood
Turning to the faith of blood
I find no peace or solace there
And the monster consumes me in despair

My deeds have brought only infamy
To the honored name of the Family Vea
Only one way out, I drink the tea
And pray my ancestors forgive me

A new clone then, my memory cleared
But the monster still inside, always feared
From civilized space do I flee
Out to nullsec to become a Bee

Down to Fountain to the war
The killing starts, like before
Drugs and sex and even more
Until the day I hit the floor

A goddess in the realm of space
But here on earth, fallen from grace
Naked, violated, all alone
A Ni-Kunni nun took me home

At first though, I found it odd
That anyone would talk to me of God
My life was in ruins, everything a mess
Why would she help me—so worthless?

But she kept at it, day by day
Helping me get better, showing the way

I was a bruised and broken woman,
but she helped me to heal
She said God would help me,
all I had to do was kneel
Submit to God; accept His commandments
and carry out His will
It was a night of humility, of surrender,
to God and Empress Jamyl

I will never forget who brought me light
And saved me on that darkest night




Thank you, Sister Rahma.

Truth is like poetry.

And most people ******* hate poetry.

Title:The Rime of Identifying as a Kestrel Frigate

One to one I duel at top sun
The Kestrel spreads its wings
Only missiles no need for gun
Rage and the Scourge to bring

Burning towards the dangerzone
Thermal safeties redline
Tongue tasting the warmth of ozone
Heat rising up my spine

Hot enough the weed is now lit
As it says in Scripture
Passage Four and Twenty praise it
Drunk with vodka mixture

They keep on holding on to hope
But I will never die
Rockets are fired with no scope
Local salt as they cry

No mad as crew die to spalling
Unlike rifle Mark 8
There is not a trigger warning
Embrace the final fate

Now killmail has been confirmed
How, I am asked with strain
I consider with smile not stern
A laugh: "I do cocaine."

@veikusenpai

Written by me at the start of the militia wars.

The Storms are rising
Their way long and grief laden
Morning comes after.

This poem is a classical Khanid form, and its traditional purpose is to call out bad manners and shameful behavior. As such, it's short. I hope you'll all forgive my shortcomings and my alluding to subject matter not especially familiar.

In return I make you a count, says the Holder, so splendid, so gold
Now you marry this poor little thing nobody worth noting will count
Lord Vaari can feast on ripe guts and the feet of the beasts of the field.
In shame we both rot.


That said, something nicer:

How joyous the Gate as the Eye of God looks into New Eden
The eye sees us all bare and shameless, forgives us all, forgives our shame
Light passes through our pettiness and our rotten grievances toward friends
Fat stomachs ignored.

Animosity:
Candle flame, be all of mine.
A puff of breath. Smoke.

at this point, I have, with 7, more likes for my effort, than anyone else, followed by Alizabeth's own entry with 6, Anabella Rella's with 5, and Loai Qerl and Karina Ivanovich with 4.

By various standards, that would mean I would probably have won.

I shall therefore add "renowned poet" to my list of accolades.

As one of the purposes of art is to challenge assumptions, I'd think the most-liked would be the least effective art.

For lonely on the horizon
Did the battleship wait
Grapplers at ready
Gunners at ready

The target presented itself
A lone hauler
The pilot squee'd to himself
A born ganker

Scrambler on!
Webber on!
Guns on!

But alas, it was not to be
The hauler was tanked!
And it bore the mark of The Bee
The battleship knew he was ganked
Cyno up!

Ten Jumps to Jita


Ten jumps to Jita
Isn't so far
On the lookout for gatecamps
And EWAR

Seven jumps to Jita
I'm well on my way
To sell all my cargo
And get paid

Three jumps to Jita
I can hear the bright song
Of a thousand capsuleers
All scamming as one

Two jumps to Jita
But I made a wrong turn
Got warped, scrammed, and podded
Guess I'll never learn

Now I'm back at home station
Counting my lucky stars
Because ten jumps to Jita
Isn't so far