Paws & Pens: The Second Age of Stone


OUR FIRST STUDENT SUBMISSION THIS YEAR!! A poem by the ever ambitious el-Aurens Ximenis, whose real name must not be mentioned for reasons of anonymity. Please enjoy this amazing poem and feel free to send in any of YOUR work (poems or short stories) to be featured on KISToday :’)

Into the dirt,
A flag is planted.
The poison festers
As the deadly drink is decanted.
Players of the game,
Ready to roll the dice.
Let’s see how many live,
And who’s stuck on ice.
As a believer decreed it,
“Witness as the lord’s power
Is superseded
By man’s thought.”

Their free voices taken away
As their homeland is devastated.
Bloodlines purged;
Villages burned;
Towns asunder;
As the heavy guns thunder.
Consider the cost.
A measly few thousand lost?

Imposing heads of state
Threaten the lives of many,
Not realizing what’s at stake.
If man is inherently evil,
Why give one man or woman
The power to create affordability,
Alongside the wrath to squander cities?
Not all are created equal:
Some born from golden thrones,
Their little kingdoms so vast,
Powered by their unending love of cash.
Some born into debt,
Living in total squalor.
Those who find a way out
Are seen to be followed
By those so undoubtedly devout.

Over time, walls crack away.
Once thriving populaces begin to decay.
Only a miracle will reverse such chaos,
But the masses of believers
Have been ousted and lost.

Nothing can be done to prevent
The manufactured’s rise over the makers;
Even god is exempt.
There shall be no Deus Ex Machina event.

What caused the beginning of it all,
Created the need for the subsequent fall?
Our sacred sphere corrupted,
Sacrilege unto pagan gods.
Has society led us astray?
Or will life find a way?
After annihilation,
What will come?
A stone age once more?
The re-domestication of the horse?
Must we once again
Pick up the flint
And relight the fire?
A flame which was once an inspiration,
A gift from Prometheus,
A reminder of civilization.

The torch passed through generations
Of Druids, Monks, Scholars and Scientists.
A spark of knowledge
Which made the intelligentsia able
To debunk legends of angels.
The symbol of knowledge is all that we can hold dear,
For all else falls away within a year.
The wanton destruction
And the undeniable corruption.

Our minds ripped from our brains,
That’s to be expected upon entry into the fray.
The nuclear winter is inevitable.
With all social constructs to be bulldozed,
The debris is all we’d have left.
How can we prevent it, when we’ve already prepared the rope?

The structure of leadership,
An igloo in July.
The creation of relationships,
Two pacifists in a fight.
Sense and structure:
Forget it all.
Just embrace the world
Of complete Chaos.

The gallows call
For humanity’s fall.
As the end draws near,
Be close to whom you call dear.

And now as we once more enter
The age of empty and cavernous men,
Do not
Go quietly.
Raise your arms.
Flail for justice.
Do no crime,
And the morning’s star
Will be thine own,
And the vessel that brought us this far
Will be your eternal home.

For nature gives no second chances,
And now we’ve misused our advantages.
All we’ve got left are our hands
To merge all the scattered clans.

The words in which I leave you now,
Listen carefully.
Seldom speak, and seldom bow
To the new global Queen Mary.


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