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  1. #1
    Blue Monday
    Guest

    Devolution (a story of poems)

    The Bard walked down once more to the path he had so often traveled. Beneath his soles crack from heat the gray gravel. He is still carrying that sign, like any other hobo with a pessimistic outlook on life. His sign said: The end is nigh. With resignation, he let out a sigh.

    I long for courage to see the world
    And predict the future and see it bold
    Without cowering from what I behold
    For the world will evolve and evolve
    Until no longer could it evolve;
    Soon it will devolve.

    The Bard sat on his favorite spot, a coffee shop’s corner immune to the weather hot. He dropped his sign by his feet, and relaxed himself upon his favorite seat. Closing his eyes, he thought of the future. He bit his lips and felt its torture.

    The future is a future of mystery
    Amidst the consequences and misery
    Of high technology.
    I see, first, ascension:
    Evolution,
    Then, descension:
    Degradation.
    Devolution.

    The Bard knew what would happen, and he also knew when. He shook his head with a grin sullen, for nobody to a bard would listen. Who’d care about a beggar, reeking of cigar, dressed in rags, limping with feet being dragged? Who’d listen to a man to many is demented, a man oft ignored, underestimated?

    Cowardice grips my heart
    As I view God’s fearful art
    And see the world getting torn apart
    Piece by piece, part by part.

    Often, he’d just sit there, The Bard, and look at the world with fear in his heart. As he views the world’s misery, more so does the future reveal its mystery.

    Before my power, I cower
    Fearing it can take me over
    For it gives me security:
    False security.
    Man’s chieftest enemy.

    The Bard would sit there bitter with the world, no longer willing to share the future he beholds, no longer wishing to repeat what he said, for when his warnings come true, he’d surely be dead.

    Behold! I shew you the symmetry
    Of the path being taken by society.

    The Bard looked at his sign for the last time, the sign forecasting the end of all life. He wanted to sigh, he wanted to cry, he told himself, “At least I tried.” He closed his eyes in pain, at disbelief how no one else can see what is plain.

    In the beginning there was nothing but darkness in the skies
    As far as can be seen by God’s divine eyes.
    And he said, “Let there be light!”
    And there came light.
    And he created the world,
    The world we behold,
    With plants and animals
    And the human animal.
    And the human animal was of one nation, of one language
    They were powerful and demanded heavenly passage,
    And God said: Behold!
    “This is just the beginning of what they will do in this world.”
    And God smote their tower:
    their passage, the tower
    And seized from them their power
    And spread them everywhere
    To @!#$ and battle; to burn and pillage and murder and plunder.

    And he cried a good cry, his head resting on his thighs. And of course, nobody dared even gaze at the man to them is crazed. He, even with his power, to them, is just an invisible monster.
    He fell asleep even before he finished his weep.

    Countless ****s and battles later,
    And the Earth is reduced to a crater
    As it was before,
    Before the gore.

    The next day he was gone, that insane man. At his favorite haunt he was not, his seat cold even when the weather is hot. Still, nobody cared, not noticing that the coffee shop’s corner was bare, except for a sign that said: The end is nigh.

    That is the first phase of devolution.

    The next day, a plane crashed on Lady Liberty’s face, reducing half of it to rubble and waste. The people then recalled The Bard’s prediction: Freedom to be defaced, pride to face oblivion. That’s when the people looked for anywhere The Bard might be around, but alas! He was nowhere to be found.

    The second phase began
    With the wild dreams of one man.
    To many, a madman—
    Advancer of the Aryan clan.
    Wanting to win this one @!#$ and battle,
    Hitler attempted to meddle
    With the human genes and the genes of apes
    To create a creation to leave mouths agape:
    A creature strong as ape and as intelligent as man;
    Hitler thought, “What could go wrong with this plan?”
    Do you see not the link a-forming
    That would lead to the world devolving?

    Cartons of milk were plastered with his face; everyone sought him as if they were in a race. His image was stapled on poles, his visage was placed on walls. Search-and-rescue dogs sniffed his coat and ended up with garbage smelling like his clothes. Of course they searched in the dump, but there was no one; everyone was stumped. The police questioned everyone who might have seen him, but nobody really noticed him before he was missing. Detectives asked the people in the café, “He was there,” they said, “and he was gone the next day.” TV and radio lent support, but they also ended up without much to report. Still, the support they did not abort; they continued searching for a man they once claimed to be of no worth. All this, for a man cursed with omniscience: a man they called a babbler of nonsense.

    Ten years after that war was another @!#$ and battle:
    One between the bear and the eagle
    In a nuclear contest
    To determine the world’s best.
    Nine months within each other
    U.S. and the Soviet tested their nuclear power
    Irradiating much of the world,
    Advancing close to midnight Doomsday’s fold.

    For months, car antennas had yellow ribbons tied, but those ribbons of hope soon turned white. No rock was left unturned, yet no missing person was returned. The psychic was gone, as if he lost interest in warning everyone. Perhaps, they believed, he resented being laughed at when he forecasted a rampaging wave and murderous flood. Maybe, some thought, he hated being shunned when he forecasted the fall of two towers on land.

    Two decades after
    And the world is a ****ing crater
    Hot and murderous with its nuclear weather,
    Its landscapes and shores turned to killers.
    Amidst all these,
    And in between festivities,
    Came Dolly the Sheep
    A creature from cheated genetics.
    A clone,
    Artificially grown,
    As the first success of immortality.
    As the first mistake of all humanity.

    All the rubble and death, The Bard had predicted. Yet his advice was left unheeded, and now that he’s gone, the world regretted. Soon, all lost hope, accepting that without The Bard they must cope, and in the dark they must grope, without the psychic to show them the ropes. The searches were cancelled and the posters were torn, but from the last of The Bard’s prediction hope was born. They readied themselves for the future to come, unknowing that the furious and unstoppable future they cannot calm.

    As the millennium approached and as it passed by,
    Nations once more warred, people once more died.
    The death of one is tragic,
    The death of a million is sadistic,
    But the death of the world was
    Without argument, paradise lost.
    Still, sides of the globe battle for power,
    Like before, they @!#$ and battle,
    The Middle Eastern and Asian and Soviet and American superpowers,
    They continue to burn and pillage and murder and plunder,
    Irradiating the world further
    With their bombs and gas and heavy firepower,
    Oblivious that they are heading for obsolescence.
    Oblivious of the death of innocence.

    Soon, another tragedy struck. Another crisis, another @!#$. As the world the wars deface, poverty, the people begin to face. People lose hope fumbling in the dark, the mortgage crisis making its mark. The people needed a guide to show them how to fight.
    Then…
    People heard footsteps on the landscapes barren…

    That is the path taken by society:
    A path of utter amorality.
    That road to destruction
    Leads to the future unknown.
    The future:
    A period of spiritual torture
    Where highways stretch above barren planes
    And speeding are the cars and bikes and trains,
    Where waste litters the polluted land and water,
    Where inhabitants are nearly cadavers!
    In the future everyone will hate God
    Everyone will have a reason to blame and be mad:
    For the filthy air or the broken society,
    For the wars and abortion and lack of morality!
    Everyone will hate God,
    They won’t like how they are ugly or monstrous or skinny or fat,
    And they’d have machines to suck
    All those fats and bones and other @!#$;
    Everyone will replace
    Their breasts, their dicks, their face.

    Walking along the land is a man thought to be gone: the beggar, The Bard. His shoes clicking on the gravel, his eyes looking around at the future unraveled, wearing that dusty coat that reeks of garbage, carrying once more his “End is Nigh” signage. People clapped, people screamed; it was the coming of their dreams: the man who could save the future is back, behind him instant devotees following in droves, in packs.

    In the future, man would wish to be changed
    From the physical shell they consider garbage.
    They’d want to cheat their genetics,
    And dabble in eugenics and euphenics,
    And fuse themselves with other creations
    To become creatures of perfection
    And become a society
    Of unity and immortality.
    They’d experiment with their shells,
    In the vain hope that they’d be well,
    Fusing themselves with other creatures,
    Cloning themselves to ensure their futures.
    Unknown to them is that the future they cannot change,
    And they shouldn’t dabble with the strange.
    As an experiment will go horribly wrong,
    Humans will become dumb and terribly strong,
    With the strength of apes and the rapidly waning intelligence of man,
    And cloning themselves, the world will be overrun
    By creatures of devolution,
    By creatures undergoing descension.
    Soon the apes will no longer be intelligent
    And will degenerate into rodents,
    Rats with human face—
    Humans will get their wish; everything will be replaced.
    Then on their hind legs they must try
    To walk for their front limbs will wilt and die,
    And they will grow scales and lose their body;
    A human face with frog legs: the future of society.
    Then the frog will disappear,
    And humans will face their fear:
    They will devolve and devolve,
    but no longer will they soon evolve,
    For in their wars they will have destroyed Earth,
    There will no longer be another birth.
    And soon the planet will just explode and die,
    And nobody will be left to cry.
    And the people followed The Bard, thinking that there was some reward. They tried and shouted, “Save us!” but The Bard didn’t turn; he had approached a yellow boat: the point of no return. And he stepped on the shore, and the people shouted again, “Save us!” but The Bard didn’t care; he too, was in fear. And he looked at the people and the people shouted, “Save us!” and The Bard replied, “Save your lives, I will save mine. For I am afraid of what I see; I don’t know how to save humanity.”
    And the yellow boat disappeared…
    And the people once more shook in fear…
    And so did The Bard.

    In the beginning there was nothing but darkness in the skies
    As far as could be seen by God’s divine eyes.
    In the end, there was darkness once more,
    But God no longer created a world. “What for? What for?”



  2. #2
    leslee
    Guest

    Re: Devolution (a story of poems)

    “What for? What for?”

    Exactly.

  3. #3
    Sam English
    Guest

    Re: Devolution (a story of poems)

    Blue,
    Why don't you introduce yourself and tell us a little bit about your inspiration? You got a lot to say.

  4. #4
    Gogol? You must mean Google.
    Guest

    Re: Devolution (a story of poems)

    You have talent. I would change some of the easier rhymes to something else, like "hope", "cope", "grope", "rope". It's fine every now and then, but I feel you do a couple times too often.

    This feels a lot like a combination of David Bowie's Cygnet Committee and The Last Question by Isaac Asimov. Good job.

  5. #5
    John Oberon
    Guest

    Re: Devolution (a story of poems)

    Well, nihilism never washes with me. Pretty shallow, hopeless premise. But if that's what you believe, you could cut this way down. Lots of meaningless wording...by the way, what is "chieftest" and "euphenics"?

    Don't buy the physical devolution at all - just as ridiculous as evolution - and you're not using it as a metaphor that I can see. Now if you described a SPIRITUAL devolution...I'd buy that.

  6. #6
    Blue Monday
    Guest

    Re: Devolution (a story of poems)

    chieftest is a word.i've read it in a work,"the chieftest mourner."you can pretty well guess what it means.
    euphenics is the study of improving the traits of a being.

    Blue Monday is not a nihilist.if he is to you,you are right,because that is your idea.as for Blue Monday,he does not believe that he is a nihilist.

    No,I am not using metaphors.This is just about the battle for credibility.And Blue Monday see that as something more relevant than spiritual devolution.Blue Monday just telling his views about the world.

  7. #7
    Rogue Mutt
    Guest

    Re: Devolution (a story of poems)

    Did I miss when this became the Blue Monday forum? If you want to post all your old crap, set up a website like I did:
    <http://roguemuttarchives.blogspot.com>

  8. #8
    dan z
    Guest

    Re: Devolution (a story of poems)

    Mutt, you're stalking Blue for what reason?
    Anyone is welcome to present any or all of their work here... in Writing Craft. Try rather to get his philosophical perspective and partake into his concern that our world's gone astray. There's powerful detail in what most perceive as 'simple' volume.

    Oberon said:"Don't buy the physical devolution at all - just as ridiculous as evolution"

    I'd be quite curious on your views regarding the dynamics of the journey that brought us to this point in Existence. How did we, the Humanity, get here?

    Blue, you'd 'look' a lot better to me if you spoke in first person.

  9. #9
    Rogue Mutt
    Guest

    Re: Devolution (a story of poems)

    Anyone is welcome to present any or all of their work here... in Writing Craft.

    Really, you don't think four pieces in 26 hours is a bit much?

    Blue Monday should pick whichever piece Blue Monday thinks is best and run with that. Otherwise Blue Monday looks like a selfish jerk monopolizing the group to get critiques for Blue Monday before disappearing wherever Blue Monday came from.

    BTW, I like a few New Order songs, but "Blue Monday" is not one of them.

    I'd be quite curious on your views regarding the dynamics of the journey that brought us to this point in Existence. How did we, the Humanity, get here?

    If you paid attention at all you'd know John O believes God snapped his fingers and the universe in its present state was created. Read your Bible!

  10. #10
    dan z
    Guest

    Re: Devolution (a story of poems)

    Mutt, all you have to do is skip Blue's threads, as simple as that, since you already expressed your dislikes regarding his stuff. Don't be mean, just leave the kid be... he's learning still, plus I didn't find him offensive at all. High-school kids that can somewhat think are to be appreciated.... by me for one.
    I encourage Blue to keep thinking and writing, for no one is born 'all knowledgeable'.

    Oberon, when you dismiss something like Evolution, you also have to bring to light the facts and details that drove you to such thought. I'm still waiting for your opinion on Evolution.

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