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“Filth”
By = Pyrayton Svaenohr and Alexander Antonin ([personal profile] alex_antonin)

From primordial slime grows things made of meat,
Which quiver and shiver in cold and in heat;
From its own filth, from Life's shit and rot,
Life arises and suffers, then falls down to naught;
Made of hot garbage, composed of decay,
Life swims in its own filth all night and all day;
Living things eat each other, tearing down bit by bit,
Then Life turns around and eats its own shit.

From the time you're born until you decompose,
Starvation and death are the least of your woes;
There are parasites extant that will live in your eye,
And care not if you're starving, or cold, or you cry;
Or plagues that devour the flesh off your bones,
Dooming you to a life of agonized moans;
There are millions of horrors in store for you here,
To make sure you have plenty of things for to fear.

So it's plain to me what all these facts spell:
That Life on this Earth is literally Hell;
There is no God who cares for our plight,
And darkness will always devour the light;
No omnipotent savior who cries at our pain,
No soul drives your meat, only sparks in your brain;
Just Life born of refuse, of garbage, of spilth,
Eating its own shit, made of its own filth.
svaenohr: (Default)
“The Flayed Men”
By = Pyrayton Svaenohr

Flayed alive, the skinless monsters still breathe.
Their every breath is agony, their screams directed inward,
But their rage is directed outward.

Like a cancer they spread, claiming everything in reach.
Eating The Mother to death, kidnapping and torturing their kin,
Not thinking beyond what can give instant relief to their pain.

Genocide is a pleasant afternoon for these beasts.
Having lost their own souls, they devour the souls of their kin,
And the results are a travesty, a mockery of spirit.

Lash out at them, and you may get them to release you.
But do not point out the insanity of their ways, or they will tear you apart,
And you will die knowing some small part of their agony.

I would pity them, but they flayed themselves.
They have only themselves to blame for their condition.
Which is the most pitiable thing of all.

There are a few who have regrown their skins,
Regrown their souls, and are sane for a time, feeling empathy for their kin.
The others will find them and re-flay them.
They always do.

~ ~ ~

File this under "all monsters are human." This poem is about European imperialism, and how it affects both white people and people of color. The imagery was inspired by a post in which some black Africans' reaction to seeing white people for the first time was to say "They have no skin!"
svaenohr: (Default)
“Incunabula Of Phantasmagoria”
By = Pyrayton Svaenohr

In ancient eons gone and past,
There was born within the void
A creature terrible and vast
That stars wished to avoid.

It ate dwarf stars for breakfast,
And giant blues for lunch.
At dinnertime it found black holes
Upon which it would munch.

The Virgo Supercluster
Is like a forest to this beast,
But the Milky Way galaxy
Is where it once did feast.

And though it eats most stars,
A few it spares by need,
For it seeks out M class worlds
With life, so it can breed.

It scoured the void for eons,
Looking where it could,
Until it found one planet
That looked like it was good.

It laid some eggs on Earth,
But before it could depart,
Something happened to them,
Which broke the creature's heart.

Debris from space wiped out its nest,
So it was forced to wait;
Luckily for this sky beast,
Patience is its finest trait.

Then one day it woke up,
And saw its nest once more secure.
It laid its eggs upon the earth,
But watched it, to be sure.

Its eggs must incubate for centuries,
Thus in us they set up shop.
And now they jump between us
Whenever dead we drop.

And one day in the future,
If Mother gets her way,
All of us will hatch,
And our flesh will fall away.

We incubators of flesh and bone
Will explode in bloody showers,
And the Earth will burn to cinders
In just a few short hours.

Expanding, we will roar,
To our final form assemble;
And as we tear a hole in spacetime,
The universe shall tremble!
And we shall be forevermore
A plague upon the 'verse!
So don't you think that maybe we
Should use THIS life to rehearse?
svaenohr: (Default)
“The Two Elements”
By = Pyrayton Svaenohr

“Four elements,” say some,
“Five!” says another.
“Thirty-seven” says my father,
“One hundred eighteen” says my mother.

Water, Earth, Air, and Fire,
Or Spirit gives you a fifth.
“Wood, Fire, Metal, Earth, and Water,” say others,
“Anything else is just a myth.”

Scientists point to atoms
To compile their element list,
But what of all the smaller parts?
Is there something they've all missed?

I look into the sky at night,
And matter at the smallest scale,
And wonder if they all are wrong,
If all these guesses fail.

What if the only elements
That the universe employed
Were simply numbered one and two,
Named “Energy” and “Void”?

Take a mass of Void foundation,
Upon which stretched a skin, you see,
Of spacetime and the universe,
All made up of Energy.

Everything that we can see,
And all the things we can't
Can be boiled down to those two things,
From galaxy to ant.

So look into the massive sky,
And deep within your soul;
For you need both Energy and Void
To exist, and to be whole.

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