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.

Megacity Morning

As twilight fades, a new day begins,
This vast metropolis never sleeps, however,
A voice awakens inside a pod, activating the lighting,
A gentle white light illuminates the chamber,
The sleeper stretches, then requests coffee,
A glass emerges from a countertop flap and fills,
They rub their eyes as the outer window shutter raises,
And a glistening cityscape is revealed as they drink,
Breakfast consists of synthetic fruits and oatmeal,
Morning ablutions are brief and efficient,
Once clothed, they head out into bright morning sun,
Voice activation secures the apartment pod as they exit,
And they step out into the shadows of Megacity skyscrapers.

World Thirteen

Welcome to the future, where clocks now strike thirteen,
Individualism is no longer celebrated,
That human condition has been politically corrected,
One central government keeps humanity in stasis,
One totalitarian leader wields blind control,
Sprawling interconnected megacities rise,
Tech controls the nihilistic mindset of a dead generation,
People disappear by night without warning,
Artists, journalists, writers, free thinkers,
Lives are deleted as the world embraces sterility,
Psychological pharmaceuticals are outlawed,
Desperation fills crowded dystopian city streets,
Populations sleep in instability, controlled by fear,
Supervised, manipulated, punished,
This is not the promised bright new world,
This is despotism,
This is now.

Overcharged

I am a heated emotional bundle, full of liquid chemical energy,
Every muscle seems tightened and ready to burst,
All body sinew feels electrified, numb and activated,
My skin feels armoured and ready to fight,
So where should this energy be redirected,
There is no enemy,
There is no pressure,
Except from the one writing,
This energy always goes to same place,
It goes to bed.

Jettisoned

I feel like I have been jettisoned,
Newly arriving on an alien landscape,
Here, beings exist that are not of my make,
They behave in a confusing manner,
Their language is untranslatable,
Their beliefs, the opposite of my own,
It is as though each being is a planet,
All squeezed into one tiny galaxy,
With no room for expansion,
No space for personal expression,
No room for creativity,
There is no place for your opinion here,
There is no silence, it is deafeningly loud,
Life is like closing my eyes while watching a movie,
And it rolls on regardless,
This, is now.

Exit Reality

I’ve created worlds with nothing more than imagination and a PC,

Art based solid worlds that to me exist to me to this very day,

One dark, body imprisoning, mind stealing world enslaving humanity,

And another world full of colour and love that exists after death,

Neither is more beautiful, and yet as tragically heartbreaking,

As the real world.

Is this 1984

Each pay flows quicker than liquid mercury,
Removed from accounts with electronic surgery,
Payments for toil that instantly disappear,
And it’s becoming worse everywhere year by year,
The world is more broken than ever before,
It’s like we are living through Orwell’s 1984,
How can we possibly hope to retire?
The future seems dark and the finances dire,
When the basics are getting so hard to acquire,
We are just banknotes burning on life’s funeral pyre.

The New Age of Revulsion

The world feels like it’s on fire,
Greed and stupidity pollute the air,
People suffer the reign of megalomaniacal pigs,
Morally corrupt child-adults influence and advise,
Disrespect and violence grow from desperation,
The stink of self-entitlement bites at the nostrils,
All beauty on Earth is violated by materialistic hunger,
Bigotry and self-indulgence are the new faith,
The new age of revulsion has begun,
Self-immolation is technologically delivered,
Mankind’s final act has been scripted and is in play,
A dystopia is birthed, screaming and untethered,
From this point there is no way back.

March 25

I woke up in the dark today, and I felt your absence more than ever,
Today, you should have been here with loved ones, like you wanted to,
Laughing at all of my aches and pains as I too grow older,
I am already past the age that you were never able to reach,
What started with a cough, made you but a hazy memory to some,
A washed-out polaroid, scanned in for future generations to see,
I can’t have you on my wall, it still hurts me to my core to see you,
But I will make them all see you, I will make them remember you,
Your face only appears in tired photos, but I still see you clearly,
When I see my eyes in the mirror, or those of my babies, I see yours,
Nothing will ever break me like it did when your time was up,
I lost part of me that cold July day, and it is irretrievable,
New life is arriving, a beautiful brutal reminder of legacy and heartbreak,
You taught me strength, kindness and gentility, encouraged art and poetry,
You were loving, gentle and funny, and a demon in the defence of your family,
Although life goes on, I remember you still, and I say your name aloud,
I keep you in my impenetrable heart, safe and protected, as you eternally sleep.

All the sounds, all at once

The two of us sit and finish up a quiet café breakfast,
Another couple enters the space and takes a seat,
Two more, caught up in a high energy conversation,
An old lady reads, as her grandson bangs away at a noisey ipad,
A group of four loud workmen enter and sit right behind me,
The old lady looks over her glasses, hearing their foul language,
I can see my wife speaking, sipping her coffee, smiling,
But I am somewhere, anywhere else, I cannot hear her,
We are now communicating from distant worlds,
Why can’t she notice that the atmosphere has changed,
I close my eyes to reset, but the sound is everywhere,
Cutlery scraping on plates, different voices, intense laughter,
Different sounds seemingly competing for sonic dominance,
“Hello, are you even listening to me” my wife’s voice booms,
Not her fault, but her sudden interjection instantly angers me,
“Of course” I lie, I’m barely capable of hearing my own words,
The table of four erupts into loud over dramatized laughter,
It reminds me of my own workplace, nothing is that funny,
It is louder laughter than the greatest comedians enjoy,
Fake, people are fake, anger stirs as my mind splinters into shards,
“We have to go”, I try to dull my senses further but I’m at full capacity,
All of the sounds, all at once, are just too much for me,
“ok”, she finishes her coffee, her face fills with her displeasure,
Guilt fills me as we leave, but I feel like I’m just trying to cope,
I wasn’t always this man.