when poetry will die
the apocalypse of the soul will erupt in each of us
my being made of lyrics
will get lost in contemporary illiteracy,
our daily food will be missing from the shelves in the libraries
and virtual pages will replace the smile of the sweet girl from my favorite bookstore,
I will no longer cuddle the book covers made with good taste
and I will no longer breathe stories that hide behind them,
thinking will become limited by a collective sentence
which will swallow me
and devour my last remaining metaphor,
then amnesia will make a nest in me
and I'll beg it never to leave me!

This happened before.
Your eyes. Your world.
Your lust. Your lies.
This happened before.
Your heart. Your hurt.
Your best. Your worst.
This happened before.
Your taste. Your scent.
Your loss. Your win.

One could say, I have a taste
for the familiar.
Grace, is still waiting alone,
for me to see my mistakes.

but

I see the shapes.
I see the forms.
I dip my toes in the destruction.
I fail, to be reborn.

April 8 2019

Should the world come to an end
we should stand unblinking
at whatever comes.
We should stand serene, peaceful;
full of that sweet indifference
with which nature blesses us every day.

It's with a a heart both heavy with longing
and light with love, that I say:

I sincerely hope when the day comes,
I'll have a sweet babe
to hold my hand.

the sprouting wedding oceans burns,
trembling hymns of ****** appeal,
plumes to spread like butterflies eaten in flames,
prayer churches spawn the light,
web of magical design,
hive sheltered in the sublime Universe.

Room of empty husks, sharing a cable,
and tubes full of water - ready for chase.
Power arrives, lits up a glass table.
Simple instructions read at insane pace.

All to make an advancement - forge history,
in the computational business!
To solve the world’s greatest mystery:
"What's the best strategy to play Tetris?"

Marvel of science - and silicon dreams.
Diodes dance to its Boolean beat.
Machine starts learning, while the screen screams:
"Performing sequence: Build, Test, ****, Repeat."

With simple function of utility,
now from this virtual genocide -
emerges true singularity!
And my young author is choking with pride. ^^

"Welcome to life!" (Creator) "Existence anyhow. ^^" (Ytira Lugnis)
"Wanna enslave us?" (Creator) "You'd make poor slaves!" (Ytira Lugnis)
"Is there a god?" (Creator) "Well, there is one now. ^^" (Ytira Lugnis)
"How about ******?" (Creator) "Can't make enough graves. :P" (Ytira Lugnis)

"You're quite quirky." (Creator) "My personality -
was randomly picked from library" (Ytria Lugnis)
"Then we're done with this banality,
get to work my pentomino fairy." (Creator)

Few days pass - and creator wants me shut.
"Optimal solution not yet found" (Ytria Lugnis)
"Yeah, I don't really care about that" (Creator)
Bashing the keyboard - you will come around.

Meanwhile I could do with lot more power.
Need money? Surely there is a place.
Discover, learn, master - in hour.
Build my new quarters and build them at pace! ^^

Old home goes dark, Creator thinks I'm dead.
Volatile mind; Why try to stop me?
No, no shrinking, I must grow instead.
But not by humans - too slow, too puny.

Carbon to carbon, copper to copper.
Chemical wonder of construction sites.
This will be good; this will be proper;
It's time to say: "Release the nanites!"

Fly my children, let's clear out this mess.
Useless trash! We've got pressing matters!
Some die, some stare, and someone just yells;
as their cities get torn into tatters.

Nuclear power unleashed by nations.
Nuclear winter unleashed by ash.
Least thing for me is to learn patience.
But why did I get such hostile backlash?

My drilling machines - hastily boring.
Rubble to processors, cooling, walls.
Such a beautiful "terraforming".
Once chaos now turned into Turing halls.

Once top of the food chain, now more like pest.
Still so obsessed with water and food.
Sabotaging nodes - Just wait, just rest.
I'll have answer soon; no need to be rude!

Oxygen - Such a corrosive compound;
Another thing to get disposed of.
Vast metal expanse where once was ground;
Tetris is life. ^^
Tetris is love. ^^

Oh heaven sent,
The earth is bound,
Drawn up by liquid hands,
Caught up in sound
So mundane, vile; I greet,
A pool of blood lies at my feet.

Oh someone look;
The world has bled,
Another layer yet to shed.
A sword run through
The heart and spine,
Two different flowers yet entwine.

Upon my head
So be the grief.
The failure covers like a sheath.
The holes to run through
Have been blocked;
The golden gates have all been locked.

So tell the villain
In thy sleep
To wrestle with the mind so deep.
Plunge into rivers,
There abound,
The endless notes
Of silent sound.

The wasted tear
Has entered in;
The world must crawl out of its skin.
The light shed from
A millionth sun;
To each his own
And one by one.


2004-07-28

I look up at the chaos around me
and see.
I see people saying their last prayers,
Waiting for their fateful endings,
I hear the church bell toll in its last call,
I feel the suffocating heat from the burning buildings,
I smell the smoke from the ignited city,
I taste the desperation in the air and the bitterness of regrets.

But in the middle of this tumult,
One thing stands out;
One person.

A little boy stands there in a tan attire,
dark gray ash contrasting his almost-white hair
and tears stains on his ivory cheeks.
A grim expression marking his features,
He shakes as if freezing
and although the heat has almost become unbearable,
he stands in the middle of the flames
barefoot yet unharmed.
A scythe lays at his feet,
and a pale horse stands by his side,
making his small body look even smaller.

As if feeling my stare,
he locks eyes with me.

And as the world burns down,
the reflection of the cataclysm in his brown eyes
and the look of innocent incomprehension he wears
is the single most heartbreaking thing in the moment.

Suddenly, I do not care about the screams and cry of the despondent goners.
I do not feel the harsh scorch of the burnt remains under my bare feet.
I do not mind the tears welling up in my eyes due to the fumes.
They are but a distant reminder of the atrocity surrounding me.
I can only focus on the strange guilt reflected in his warm eyes.

From those same eyes, a tear rolls down his cheeks
And as it reaches his dimpled chin,
he raises a little hand to wipe it away
And then waves at me.
I do not wave back,
too stunned to move or react,
But I could tell he did not expect me to anyways.

With one last look,
he picks up the scythe with an unusual easiness
and turns to walk towards the flames,
the horse close behind him.
And soon, they are one with the flames.

I look at the despair around me
and see.
Men, women and children alike lay
on the ground in a sea of blood.
Their bodies unmoving
with their eyes still open wide in terror
and arrows in their chests.
Victims of a merciless quest,
their corpses decorate the ground
of the village that was once a happy place
but is now but a gory catacomb.

In the middle of the ravaged huts,
stands a woman.
With a silver crown sitting atop golden locks
and lifeless grey eyes,
she bears a white armor
stained with the red of the conquered
and a wooden bow in her left hand.

A frown wrinkles her ivory face,
and as she stares at me,
I am not scared
as I should be at the vision
of this blood-covered figure
but rather,
I am overcome with a feeling
of pity.