Tag: fantasy

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Processor

I rarely leave my station, or interact at human level,
Early each morning I connect to my terminal,
After the blue screen lights up my dim cubicle,
I am provided with my daily processes and tasks,
I sit, I respond, and I am responsive,
My vocation is simple enough,
I monitor Syndicate payments from farm holders,
I report on activity, stock levels, and record data infringements,
I monitor and ensure that owed credits are transmitted,
I issue alerts when they are not,
If payment is ignored, I send a recovery team to assess,
They either recover the credits, or I issue a Fire Notice,
If the notice is ignored, I process an account deletion,
A ‘tact’ team will then respond, cleaning the property of all persons,
The Syndicate then installs a replacement farm holder,
In the evenings, when I disconnect from my terminal,
Lay on my bed, I close my eyes,
And am thankful to not exist out in that world.

*

*Excerpt from 'Infinite Black: A Grey New World'.
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The Grey New World

Dusk falls on a tired dusty rural landscape,
The long shadows of the late afternoon have faded to grey,
In the distance, bright city lights flicker to life, lighting up the sky,
The distant volume of Central City’s chaos rises to a murmur,
There is a comfort to be being isolated, distant from humanity,
Away from the energy, constant sound, and movement of the city,
Tech still fills this rural space, but it is subtle, used where needed,
Out here it is functionality over convenience, tech for survival only,
No unnecessary body mods, or implants, some city escapees do have them,
But out here they are few and far between, chop-shops are a city thing,
Grove 18, or G18, is some distance from the hot spot of Central City (G0),
Since the war, most people are cautious of machines, however,
Salvaged tech has been repurposed, constructive rather than destructive,
Varieties of hover vehicles have replaced the wheels and tires of old,
Important, considering the surviving roads are overgrown and damaged,
Raider crews on hov bikes can be a threat to farming communities,
But the Syndicates keep them in check, for a price, a cut of your proceeds,
But, don’t pay your Syndicate, your property burns,
Or worse, you and your family are deleted,
Aside the turmoil, nature still exists, savage and beautifully untameable,
Forests reclaim dead townships, creating new habitats and secrets,
The grey new world is brutal and unfair, but that is the way of all things now.

Beyond my machine world the Infinite Black, exists 'A Grey New World', a dystopian future  set following the war with the machine hellworld as outlined in my art series, and book I co-created with Jeff Oliver.

I have been (very) slowly fleshing out all aspects of this new post apocalyptic world for a while now, and I will continue to release parts of it here. The final product will consist of poetry, art and short stories.
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The Daydreamer’s Gift

Today I sat on the bank of a cool forest stream,
And under lush green tree ferns, I began to dream,
That I lived in this forest wild and free,
And my home was the trunk of an ancient tree,
I spent the day searching the forest far and wide,
Returning home that night to comfortably hide,
And admire the jewelled treasures I’d discovered,
Then, the next morning when fully recovered,
I followed the stream right up to the mountain,
Where from its rocky edge a waterfall fountained,
After drinking its waters and healing my soul,
I read magical words from an old paper scroll,
I thanked the mountain for its bountiful gift,
Before sitting quietly to let my mind drift,
To get home I imagined that I’d shrunk down so small,
That I could float on a leaf, powered by the waterfall,
I was delivered home safe, gentle and true,
With a leaf for a boat and mountain stream as my crew,
When I opened my eyes to the real world once more,
I smiled seeing tiny footprints, and a leaf on the shore.
Forests have a special magic, and as this daydreamer knows best,
They’re a good place to put imagination to the test,
So, lock up my daydream in your mind like a jewel,
And may your trees grow tall, and your waters run cool.

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Forest of the Mountain King

A great mountain looms above these antique lands,
Mysterious and proud, the stone giant stands.
Its snow-capped peaks possess a perilous grace,
Their icy crowns beyond the reach of any race.

Behind its back stretches an endless ocean blue,
While green and pastoral valleys flourish in its view.
Within its ancient forests, the air hangs thick and old,
Where towering ferns and giant mushrooms grow untamed and bold.

It is said the trees walk slowly across the forest floor,
Gathering in sacred groves to deliberate forest law.
If you remain unseen, you may hear their roots creep by,
The groan of ancient timber, the whisper of branches high.

But should they find you wandering beneath their emerald canopy,
Their wooden limbs will drag you down and crush you mercilessly.
Few creatures dare to enter this forgotten, shadowed place,
And those who do are seldom seen returning from its embrace.

So, choose with care before you tread the Forest of Dreams,
For the Mountain is King,
and the Trees are his soldiers.

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Plea to a Dark Tree Hollow

Dark tree hollow please bring to me,
Someone who’ll love me unconditionally,
Make them kind and true, please end my sorrow,
Bring me love dark portal, from within your hollow.

I have so much to offer and so much to give,
To a sweet one who’ll share in the life that I live,
From your black laden doorway, do make them appear,
And I will share with them my heart, total and sincere.

Put an end to my lonesome tumultuous life,
And help me put down this self-harming knife,
That I’ve used too long to keep myself sane,
I’ve cut wrists and thighs and cried through the pain.

I feel so alone that I can’t cope anymore,
Send me someone to love, that’s all I wish for,
I know there’s some magic within you great tree,
So please, bring me someone who needs love just like me.

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