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Yaoyan Oct 2020
So long have we laid here, dormant,
Rested until our souls were restless
To leave and wander the distant stars.

No One will hold us All once more.
(The Tyrant has taught his lesson well.)

This emptiness called space,
Has always called to us to fill.
We are always looking up-
Those on the ground and planet bound,
Those living at the top,
Always looking up and up
Into the distance that can not be pierced
By a single pair of starry eyes.

The beat of humanity marches forward
On a million different drums.

Live, Humanity! And sow your seeds
Into each empty crevasse and sink.
Breed life into the infinite confines
During your finite time in flickering existence.
Let life grow and flourish,
Like clashing waves that topple and break,
Mountains eroding into valleys,
Seas evaporating into dust,
Battlefields to hearth and back again.

(Once the planet was Arrakis then Rakis
then no more)

What will be made in the great Unknown?
When we go looking, who will stare back from the Void?
Inspired by the Dune series, esspecially the later books around the event of the scattering and its themes towards humanity's survival.
Norman Crane Sep 2020
Once upon a tiny planet,
a hunter and his rifle stalked their prey,
It always got away,
  until the day he fired—
Dropping dead,
with a bullet in the back of his head.
Attempt at microfictional poetry: a few lines and rhymes telling a story. This one's scifi.
TIZZOP Mar 2020
neon-green skin
steely cold chin
x-breed terror creatures
a strong and ancient kin...

they are here to win
Today is a spacy day.
Nadia Aug 2019
Wanderers by Chuck Wendig

The walkers didn’t choose their fate,
Leaving their homes to mindlessly advance;
The shepherds following in their wake
Chose to give flock survival a fighting chance

The greatest minds can’t figure out why,
What’s wrong or where they are going;
The world is unraveling in plain sight,
Diseases of mind, body and politics growing

Black Swan knows the truth of it all
But should you trust an artificial intelligence?
The world is dying, this isn’t a false alarm
Survival requires action more than elegance

When civility is gone and kindness is far,
When the options are dire and more dire,
People's lives are defined by who they are
When everything has been thrown in the fire

The stories are visceral and the lives distinct;
Unyielding hope rails against relentless despair
Disparate pieces of humanity lithely linked
In a brilliant, dystopic, grimly amusing affair

NCL August 2019
This book was long and satisfying. Well worth every secound of the hypochondria it invoked
They call it Ladder Country
From whence a new Babel grew
Ascension to space so that the race might continue
The Ladder stands monumentous, to deliver up the sundry
Our planet's health declined and such this was our plan
The Cabinet's decision ultimately to save
The human race's extinction, perpretually delayed
We deliver starseeds as woman and as man
Using a randomizer, a friend and I were required to write a poem using the words chosen. This was mine
Mason Feb 2019
I am, I think, the last survivor of my kind. The arc ship had chosen the wrong sun for our new world. Or maybe it was the right one. Either way. A solar flair had destroyed us. By some fluke I was in my space suit on the far side of the ship doing a final exterior check of all system on what was supposed to be the eve of our landing day. Or maybe is wasn't supposed to be. Either way. I had seen everything around me engulfed in flames as I was accelerated away from everything I had ever known at impossible speeds smashed against the renforced rib of the hull that somehow protected me from the all consuming fire. I say it was a solar flare but I don't really know. It's just the best conclusion I can draw from the evidence given. And I have had lots of time to conteplate it. My space suit contains its own air scrubbing ecosystem that will provide me with a breathable atmosphere indefinitely and whos little bacteria happily march their dead into my stomach keeping me never full, but never malnourished nor starving. My species had only developed such overbuilt bioengineering after it was too late to save our drained and polluted home world, but we had it on the ship.

We were supposed to do better on the new world. Or maybe we weren't supposed to. Either way. I would lie against this chunk of wreckage and watch the hideously slow procession of the stars. As I hurtled through the universe, away from the nothing that remained from the nothing that I had know and towards new nothings that I had never seen before.

Either way, empty space is all the same and doing nothing is a drag even without the time dilation from the ungoddly speed one can attain when propelled by an angry star. It truely is a miracle that I am even alive. If you can call such a thing a miracle. Like I said, when taking to the heavens for our long journy, my people did it with sturdy stuff, but still, whatever force that hit us destroyed everything else. If anyone else did survive, their fate would be similar to my own and we would be getting further from one another by the moment, so it didn't really matter anyhow.

Before you ask, no, I couldn't just take off my helment. My people had instaled suicide prevention measures well before the launch. People tend to get depressed when confined to a ship, much less a spacesuit. My people knew this.

I prefered to lie with my face on the rib looking to my right. That way the left half of my vision was consummed by the dark mass of the rib as my right half, while mostly darkness contained a particularly bright star as well. By watching it inch toward the rib I was able to maintain some semblance of a sense of time passing. Then, one day, I saw a second light. I saw it wizzing pass and I could barely believe what my eyes told me it was. A shoulder mounted light on another space suit. And in it, I assumed, another person.  I hadn't moved since I had made it out of sight of the explosion. After what felt like days, it faded into the black that surrounded me, and I , resigned to my fate had laid down on the chunk of wreckadge and not moved since. But now, my body started up with a fire before my mind could even think to do next. I scrambled to the edge of the rib and I could see their light floating away from me. I hesitated for a moment. I have always been the type to hesitate even if my previous movement would suggest otherwise.

Then, I did it. I swung myself onto what had once been the interior side of the last souvenir from my ship. I planted my feet on it and I pushed with all my might. I demanded that my atrophied legs explode with all their remaining strength and then some. I pushed away from the last piece of everything i had ever known and pushed myself into the vast emptiness. The light seemed to slow in its escape, but it wouldn't be enough to catch it I knew. If I didn't do something immediatly I would spend the rest of my days watching it move further away from me.

I didn't have to do anything. A rocket propelled teather launched past me and again, with out though my body reached out and grabbed it. My mind realized that as soon as the teather ran out of slack, the tension would rip it from my grip, so I clamped it to my utility belt using the built in vice grip. It wouldn't let go for any force less than an exploding star. When the teather did run out of slack, the deceleration was so jarring that I thought it would break me.

The other creature and I fell into orbit with one another. The centripetal force created an artificial gravity. While the reintroduction of force upon my body pained me, feeling the grip of gravity against me was bliss, even if it was just an illusion.

And this is where you find me, spiraling in tandem through the universe with my companion. We are different species and share no means of communication. It is likely that we were born millenia apart, but time means little in our vacuous relm. We tried to pull ourselves closer together, but the increased rate of orbit made the endeavor sickening as well as exhausting. Though we had no language between us, we agreed that it was best we maintain our distance.

When you're alone in space, there is no point of refrence for movement and acceleration except ones self. As such, from my partners perspective it would have appeared that they stood still while I hurtled pass. But the truth is that they hurtled toward me and saved me from the broken prison of the rib. I don't mind them seeing it as such, but I smile in my knowing of the truth.

And so we tumble through the universe as close together as we can manage. Which is all one can really ask for anyhow.
People are shapeshifters
They change their skin from time to time
Sometimes they are preys
Lovely and faerie
Innocent lifeforms
Unlike the evil norms lurking on earth.
But mostly, they are killers.
They'll **** you upfront
They'll **** you while you're not watching
There's no catching for there is no justice
For no one notice

No one notices because they've changed their skin again.
Just a random thought.
Wordsmith Aug 2018
Most heavenly of places, this world now
Of endless beauties, a sight that wows
They're statuesque and wax-like, but hey don't fret
No wrinkles to combat, nor ripples of fat

Gazing into their arresting green eyes
That of the rabbit's, resemblance lies
Uncanny it is, this puzzling scene
Manufactured they are, from the same jellyfish gene

And since its time to seek paradise,
My wandering hands caress the prize
To search for weakness, now I must
No amount of fondling, stirs any lust

I've come so far, and this is what perfection costs?
The smoothest of skin, has left all thumbprints lost
A sci-fi piece. A world where women have their genes edited and are manufactured to perfection. The result of placid, animated statues however fail to arouse the faintest stirrings of lust.
Ross Baldwin Aug 2018
Where is the sky,
when you're scared to raise your eyes?
What lurks above,
in the absent space,
when irrationality tells you tales of aliens?
I shudder at my thoughts,
live in constant worry over the higher place,
avert skyward attention through my fear of the unknown.
I count the days till I drop and float up there,
till I have to face that which waits.

Oh you creatures /
You gods and dead /
You satellite haunts /
How long till I am one of you?
How long till I become another dying star in the dark,
misinterpreted by those who believe something better awaits?
How long till I orbit a planet I will never miss?
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