skonen_blades | Entries tagged with end

And this is the way the world ends
Not with a squawk but a clatter

Born with a uranium spoon in my mouth
Tongue more fool’s gold than silver
I radiate confidence
In half-living words
From a reactor I can’t shut down

And this is the way the world ends
Not with a honk but a sizzle

“Yes, but what of the turquoise herring?” he asked
“The dreaded black herring?”
I tell him
You’ve always been the plaid sheep of the family
And the fish near the tailing pond
Have always been that color

And this is the way the world ends
Not with a squeak but a ding dong

As sure as that holster is holding a method actor
As sure as monsters are often more famous than their victims
As sure as leaders are sometimes caught green-handed and red with envy
As sure as honesty is becoming just a shade of paint
And the ones in charge have started charging

This is the way the world ends
Not with a boom but a sploosh

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Nothing is forever of course
Of course
You know that
But still
When that friendship ends
When that favorite childhood store is replaced
When the trees are cut down
When that beloved idol dies
When the empire crumbles
It’s still a shock

Success is fleeting
Accomplishments recede into the past
Like a wave pulling away from the shore
Nothing can be held
Or stored
And this moment right now will be old
As hard as that is to believe

Entropy and erosion make sure that there are no finished products
Time, the great whittler
Cleanser and eraser
Makes every border, war crime, history book, and high point
Every secret love, bold striving, and courageous attempt
Every memory and chapter

Into sidewalk chalk rainbows
Turning Rothko in the rain

It brings me to the conclusion that honestly
Logically

(taking that all into account)
(With now being all that truly can exist)

You're not amazing when you're done. No.

You're amazing when you try.

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It’s time to unwind
To eat the finish line and spit out the seeds
To become one with the warm bath
Melt into the flow of time
To unclench your eyelids
Letting your entire cup empty
Know that you’re rich
That you’ve won
because you’re alive
Take that slow train
It’s time to look out the window
The air reeks of roses in the rain
The clack of wheels over tracks
As slow as your heartbeat
The deep shag carpet of your soul
Snuggles feet into stopping and stretching
Monkey-spreading in sensual luxury
It’s time to sink without struggle
Surrender to the river
Listen passively to your world
Be a camera that doesn’t record
Revisit your mind as a stranger would
A passing anthropologist ghost
A neurosurgeon mime
With fingers that cradle your brain
The weight has always been too heavy
So let it go
Subsume yourself
In being here
By not being here
And let yourself be done

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This is journey into a sideways well. Star Trek villains compete with blue torture wire for the attention of mice and keyholes. This bag of marbles is looking for a slingshot and some stray cats. It’s your job to tell the difference between bullies and murderers. I’ve never owned a convenience store but I can tell you why hooded falcons don’t fly. It’s a list as long as the last thirty-nine years. It’s every nervous newspaper begging you to read it and every forest begging you not to. This journey into the digital will make Max Headrooms out of us all and I can’t wait.

Here’s to the heads in jars! Here’s to our robot overlords! Here’s to ‘I can has’! Precision will only match art after an economy based on money and work ends and we will all be better for it. Automation and celebrity have successfully put America out of work. Dark days are sliding down the slaughterhouse troughs and we’re all going to eat a lot of crow. I’m reminded of the doom predictions of some of the smartest monkeys we’ve produced and while I’m scared, I also know I’m insignificant. Quick or slow, my death is on the way. I’m curious to see how it turns out.

So throw that Frisbee, rush to catch it, and laugh hard. The bubbling acids in your stomach and the dry skin that flies off of you in microscopic flakes will continue to keep you alive and renewed until the processes of this planet stop your body cold. The real world is delicate and fragile but its strength lies in its complication. It cannot be defined. As we teach our pets to obey and our children to learn, let’s all commit to realizing. We are Christmas stockings filled with gifts. The main problem with intelligence is confusion. It’s only through calmness that we can see the way forward.

So take a deep breath. Wrap it around yourself. And walk slow with your eyes wide open.

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Sure, sure, a talking pig. That’s great. I get it. Not bad for beginners. How about a scorpion magician? A unicorn that can play the piano? Also not bad. What I have here will amaze you even further. A tarantula accordion squeezing through the eye of a needle. A blooming spike-plant needing a Godzilla costume before it can uproot and destroy the Kwik-E-Marts of suburban America. A forked, frozen lightning strike that’s cool to the touch and able to fit inside the fins of a fish. I have a dishonorable nuclear discharge waiting to play tag.

We are the dirty dishes of this planet and now we want to play god. Bacteria is the answer. Bacteria and viruses. If we are to create life, we must create it in our own image, just like that other guy did a long time. We are a disease on this planet. We are consuming it with no thought of the future. We are bacteria and viruses. I repeat, if we are to create life, we must create it in our own image.

I have done that. Soon, there will be a sick wind arcing down from the hang-glider rooftop where I’m standing, holding two uncorked test tubes of salvation wafting final solutions in the airstreams from my outstretched arms.

Soon, human lungs will have trouble functioning. Then they will bleed. Then they will stop. It’s contagious by sex, by touching, by air. I believe I have achieved a hundred per cent transmission capability. There might a handful that are immune but I can live with that. Earth will have thousands of years to heal.

I know the Earth does not have the means to thank me. I am a suicide healer. A bomber about to give life by bringing about Shiva’s gift of surrender. I can rest easy knowing that while the Earth lacks the capability to be grateful, it will be made better by our absence.

I have thrown the switch. The part of the galaxy is about to go quiet. If visitors come to find us, pursuing the distant echoes of our transmissions, they will find silence. Earth will once again become a place of humid, stable ecosystems. The animals will mutate and there will be no one around to tell them that they are mutations.

I am kissing the Earth goodbye as a greeting and as a parting gift. I have painted the words “You’re Welcome” on the roof I’m standing on because I didn’t know what else to do. The building will outlast my body but hopefully not by too long.

Eat the cities, plants. Run riot, mold. Invade, animals. These are your homes now.

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Telescopes were trained on the part of the universe that was missing. Just as scientists had figured out that seventeen per cent was missing, they found out that nineteen per cent was missing. Then twenty. All of Earth’s telescopes were focused there.

That’s when the scientists saw the lights. A collection of what looked like around twenty stars heading in our direction. It was kept a secret from the populace. Wild plans were thrown around for evacuation but between the bickering and the expense and deciding who would get to go, nothing was accomplished in time.

Just as they entered our ecliptic, one of the stars kept heading in our direction but the other nineteen veered left and right, heading to other parts of the Milky Way. Nothing could keep it a secret anymore. The star heading for us could be seen with the naked eye during the day.

As it settled over our own sun, turning it into a lopsided figure eight for us, a smaller star detached from it. It was a ship.

Earth turned its eyes towards that ship as it settled over the equator. We launched our weapons at it and it used the explosions for fuel. We were obviously not going to win this war but we were going to go down fighting. We seemed to be united in that.

“We are sorry” came the voices. Every medium capable of carrying a soundwave twanged with the words. Water, air, glass, wood, paper. All of it resonated with the words translated into every language on the planet. Later, people would remember those words as if they were in a dream. Not exactly their language but they knew exactly what was meant.

“We are sorry. We have started the end of the universe. We cannot stop it. But we can collect you and keep you ahead of the wave of destruction. It will take billions of your years before it eats the entire universe. On our ships, your race can survive. You can adapt. We can take you far in front of the wave and leave you on a planet not unlike this one. A planet that will not be affected for thousands of your years. We are sorry.”

Then the transmissions came. Co-ordinates on Earth. Latitudes and longitudes. These were the evacuation points. Blue beams stabbed down from the sky to those points and waited. Anyone that went into one of those blue beams didn’t come out. No zap, no pile of ash, but people went in and they didn’t come out.

Later, their loved ones would hear them in much the same way that they heard the first voices from the alien ships. The materials of their apartments would reverberate with the soft voices of the loved ones that had walked into the light. “It’s safe.” The voices would say. “Come on up.”

The cities emptied out. The blue lights took most of the populace. It’s taken a year but the Earth is now almost entirely deserted. The voices in the sky have said that they have two more days to collect people but that after that, they’re shutting off the beams and the Earth will be left with mere centuries before destruction.

The Earth is echoing with the voices of the people up above in the ships, calling for those who are afraid of the beams. Every piece of paper, every bell, every wine glass. They’re all softly calling for the ones that don’t want to go. It’s like the Earth is haunted with pleas.

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It’s dark out there and it’s getting dark in here.

The affair we’ve been having for the summer is ending. It’s as clear as the change of seasons that whatever passion started this fire is nearly burned out.

An hour ago, we shimmied out of our clothes with smiles taped to our faces. We wrapped our arms and legs around each other, desperately clawing and grasping but it was only saddening. Our orgasms were biological muscle contractions and nothing more. That magic reason had fled.

Now he we are. We didn’t even work up a sweat. This attic we’ve been using reeks of pine. There is no bullshit between us now even though nothing has been said yet. This last rendezvous was the final one we’re ever going to have and it’s obvious.

This is the silent re-buttoning of clothes.

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#120296 +(6112)- [X]
once upon a midnight dreary, while i pron surfed, weak and weary, over many a strange and spurious site of ' hot xxx galore'. While i clicked my fav'rite bookmark, suddenly there came a warning, and my heart was filled with mourning, mourning for my dear amour, " 'Tis not possible!", i muttered, " give me back my free hardcore!"..... quoth the server, 404.

Check out these others. All are allegedy real exchanges.

It would usually start with “the year is 2094” or something like that but no one knows what year it is. There are no humans to measure it. There are no humans to care. The mascots rule the world now. Or rather, they scuttle and scavenge over the remnants of what’s left.
They unlocked the last sequence of the human genome. They cloned people. They found ways around laws. Some countries cloned cheap labour. Some countries cloned cheap organs. Some countries cloned soldiers. All countries cloned whores.
The clones were designed. Designed to need less fuel. Designed to not think. Designed to be happy. Designed to not think. Designed to lift more weight. Designed to not think. Designed to sell. Designed to be cool with being put in storage. Designed to not complain. Designed to follow orders. Designed to not think.
In America, they cloned the mascots. Ronald McDonalds, Wimpys, A&W Bears, Jack in the Boxes, and Smokey the Bear. Mickey Mice, Goofys, Bugs Bunnies, and Muppets.
The plague hit quick. Humanity went down in three choking terror filled years. The virus had escaped from a lab. That was years and years ago.
The clones were not affected. Something in their manufactured genes protected them. Blind luck. Some of them were bred to die quickly if they weren’t given injections on a regular basis. They died after the humans were gone.
Other clones were given the life span of their donor. They could get old as long as they could find food.
Most clones are sterile. Some aren’t.
The sterile ones died.
The fertile ones found each other and nature took over.
Biology finds a way to reproduce.
This is the endgame of the earth. These are the bastard children of greed. This is capitalization’s short lived tombstone.
The originals are gone. There were more male mascots that female ones. There were more animal mascots than human ones. A lot of clones are technically brothers and sisters. This means that stillbirths are common. The population is in decline.
The population of the earth is now 6,457. None of them are human.
They scavenge for food and rape each other when they find each other if they can’t eat each other.
This is one of the Nightmare Futures.