Creator / imaginer: Dabbler in art, literature and sound.
I wanted to see what AI could do with one of my non AI still images, so I cobbled together an extremely short video with a few video and sound effects, and found it quite surprising how well it connected with my Infinite Black narrative.
When some nightmares happen, they hit hard,
So vivid, they feel real, because sometimes they are,
Alone in a world fast asleep, a body lies convulsing on a bed,
No one is watching, nobody is there to comfort or to care,
Nobody notices that the convulsing flesh form has frozen,
It now lies prone and cold, sweat-drenched, mouth agape,
Eyes rolled back in their sockets, it has been paralysed,
A new journey is about to begin for this victim,
Following a life of technology dependence and abuse,
It will shed its own energy into the aether,
To be absorbed by a realm of mechanical darkness,
Its human essence will soon become assimilated,
Becoming part of a hive mind of mechanical torture,
Combined with machinery and technologies, old and new,
Soon to be a cog in the engine of a living, breathing hell world.
All machines have a purpose, and this one is no different,
Its purpose is to spread endless pain and suffering to humans,
And ultimately eradicate humankind.
*An Infinite Black Poem.
The threat is invisible, silent, and constant,
There is no escape, no running, and nowhere to hide,
The signal permeates every system, every cell,
It’s a new technological pandemic
The killer is digital and already within you.
Nobody can disconnect, and very soon,
All existence will be erased.
The rack under naked skin is cold and metallic,
Not quite medical, and not purely a utility bench,
A workbench in a filthy room built for suffering,
The stolen human awaits, like a dirty unfinished project,
Unable to die, a captive, an object, a component,
Living clay, soon to be remoulded, resculpted with other artifacts,
Becoming part mechanical, and part biological,
Dead fingers press, cut, and prod, pulling ropes tight,
All pliable flesh is needlessly lashed into place,
The use of rope is part of the show, it is an aggressive pantomime,
Used to install fear, fear is the source, the essence required,
The dark hoses that crudely sustain life, also fill the body with toxins,
All a mind can do here, is dream nightmares of endless torment,
While the busy engineers tools transmogrify the body,
A single tear falls from the captives eye,
In this place the helpless are stripped down, broken and rebuilt,
All to suit a mysterious unknown purpose.
I stare into the darkness beyond the streetlight,
Something is there, following me, just out of sight,
I tried ignoring it while walking, I increased my pace,
When I stop, it stops, it’s like an unseen shadow,
The waning moon is thin above, the neighbourhood is dark,
I must keep moving, I’m not far from home now,
There it is again, heavy footsteps behind me,
Each foot falls in time with my own,
I breathe a fearful misty vapour in the cold night air,
I feel for my door keys, fumbling in my pocket as I walk,
If I turn my head even slightly, the footsteps stop,
How does it know what I’m thinking,
My front door stands before me, my key slides into the lock,
I look at my reflection in the door glass, I am covered in blood,
The shadow passes, I look at my blood-soaked hands and realise,
I am the monster.
‘Sitting awake by the candlelight at this late hour and turning one last tarot card, may have saved Isabelle’s life, ‘The Chariot’, the card instantly spurs her into action.’
I thought I’d share this quick note linking you up with a short story that I wrote a couple of years ago. I’ve posted it in my short stories section, but I’m unsure if those other sections (in the menu above) are as visible as the poetry is on this blog page, so consider this a bit of a test, let me know if you read it.
Hopefully if you’re visiting for the first time you will do a bit of exploring, give it a like if you think it’s ok, it’s the only way I’ll know if I should continue writing those style pieces. But hey, I’m still learning.
For too long now you have fed me lies,
You told me that you’d be only mine,
The one whose hand you’d forever hold,
Happily married until the end of time,
But like sniffing dogs, other men arrive,
And my intimacies you did decline,
and greeted me with derision so cold,
So, I laced all your meals with strychnine.
I no longer cared when you did decide,
To fill your deceitful mouth with lies,
I just made sure your dose was double,
And was serenaded by your painful cries,
When I saw the regret in your lifeless eyes,
My cruel heart was filled with vengeful pride,
Silenced by poison, and buried by shovel,
Now you rest by a tree in the countryside.
Dan Verkys 