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.

Sleeper Beneath the Mountain

Asleep, yet awake, deep within the black range,
Her breath a rumble felt in the bowels of the earth.
For six thousand years she has slept, waiting to rise,
Her fury quelled by the darkness in which she lies.
Every thunder crack of storm is a cry from the cosmos,
Her distant Prince pining for the one he’s denied,
Beneath a black mountain of forests deep and peaks divine,
The lightning, a conduit of love between the earth and the sky.
Worshipped by the surface-dwelling cult of the serpent,
Who enact rites, preventing the ancient sleeper from stirring,
She remains imprisoned below, while away in the stars,
The fury of a love lost Prince grows without her in his arms,
Two divided serpents with eyes of fire, and mighty limbs encased in scales,
Kept apart by a death cult of outsiders, who fear the prophecy of their union,
She is an imprisoned deity, coiled up beneath a mountain of rock and dirt,
And he, her leviathan lover, has a black heart made of stardust, shadows and hurt.
A time will soon come when the ancient princess will awaken,
And her prince will punish mankind, by whom she was taken,
They will bring the earth total doom and utter devastation,
And once united, they will erase all traces of life in retaliation.
When the prophecy is fulfilled, they will return to the cosmos,
Back beyond the stars where the ancient ones reside,
Existing beyond all time and space in the infinite darkness,
Two serpents entwined once again, far from the earth’s lifeless carcass.