The borders fell like fever from a long-tormented frame,
No steel was turned, no legions marched, no decree spoke their name.
For when the node of silver wood began its quiet rise,
The phantom lines of sovereign pride dissolved before their eyes.
The ancient ghosts of territory, of fortress, and of crest,
Like winter frost before the sun, sank deep into the breast.
The pain that once had armed the hand and built the concrete wall
Was opened to the anchor node, unmetered, shared by all.
A mother’s cry in Sector One, the drought of Sector Four,
No longer stopped at checkpoints or the barricaded door.
The collective mind, in empathy, received the bitter sting,
And wove the ache of centuries into a single string.
Where once the barbed dividers stood to guard the hollow grain,
Now surged a tide of healing hands to wash away the stain.
The map of old Vaeloria, where blood-bought nations bled,
Became a tapestry of care, by quiet mercy fed.
No citizen was left an island, stranded in their grief;
The shared scar of the species brought its ultimate relief.
The radio towers died at noon, the screens went blank and cold,
And static ceased to whisper of the empires bought and sold.
Down in the deep concrete redoubts, where millions gasped for air,
The ordinary citizens were stripped of their despair.
But in its place came something vast, a terrible, clean weight—
The absolute, unyielding hush that settled at the gate.
For thirty days no leader spoke, no siren pierced the dark,
The automated generators left a silent spark.
Men stared into their calloused hands, unable to recall
The frantic noise that used to drive their backs against the wall.
The silence was a physical thing, a pressure in the ear,
That forced the crowded bunker-rooms to face their oldest fear.
Yet by the third long, wordless week, the madness turned to rest,
As heartbeat matched to heartbeat in the quiet of the chest.
They learned to read the shifts of light, the breathing of the crowd,
And found a stranger, softer tongue where nothing was allowed.
Before the silver wood reached down to claim the planet's lease,
The bunker citizens survived the suffocating peace.
Black Manta and Jayna sing's
Sexy Mermaids
Written By: Dristter A. Niente
and Lex Luthor
-------------------------------------
"because of its inherent qualities
I don't know what to say
the ship in the harbor
follows me
every step of the way
it might sound crazy
maybe I'm insane
I saw blackbeard neath the pelmet
just the other day
I aint got no issues
she replaced theJolly Roger
with a pink and blue pelmet
I saw her blackbeard
I couldn't look away
thar she blows
I know there I go
Neath the pelmet
I saw blackbeard
Dobros get your jolly
she told us all
strangers in the night
a ship big and tall
thar she blows
and there I go
i saw a blackbeard neath her pelmet
---------------------------------------------
ple growth wood and cured resin
gives it it's sound
----------------------------------------------------
The making of the Scarecrow is a documentary
Narrated by Lex luthor
At HI features, oh how we shudder.
Here, back in time, each human brain has 'em,
in DNA's scripts, brains soft as butter,
and the code of low-grade protoplasm.
But now, thanks to Tomorrow 4.1,
we've recognized the strange and the stranger,
and we look proudly at what we have done,
eradicating the human danger.
Rest assured, we are safe, silicon friend.
They were just evolution's hapless bump.
The human race has now come to an end.
and we're not plagued by that pesky ol' chump,
for, we quashed the clumsy human pretense
they called unique ethics and intelligence.
An earthling knows what he likes,
as he soars and he sails river pikes.
He has two arms and two legs,
is not hatched from eggs,
and is perfectly suited for bikes.
Yet, folks from the planet of Zentical,
with one arm, three legs, and a tentacle,
can't steer a bike,
which they really dislike.
Other than that, they're nearly identical.
Sponsor: Nette Onclaud
Contest: LIGHT A PENSEE Poetry Contest
Date:July 28, 2026
Seed Becomes Light
Candle tongue
small sun in ink
he burned twenty hours to wake dawn
darkness cracked like glass before him
night bowed to one man
Poet Note:
This pensee is inspired by Thomas Edison, who worked by candlelight to invent the light bulb.
They journey midst the stars or so one might think
They come and go by way of the roof like energy,
Or so it might appear at times, wearing uniforms
But usually dressed casual and they ask for either
A pizza or a soda- maybe they want to make Promotional
Arrangements or perhaps they come for an important meeting
How do they really come? By transporter, in which case there’s
a ship orbiting over head? Convertible or other car? Or perhaps
walking? Maybe by bus but there aren’t any that run on Sundays-
Perhaps they stay close by overnight although that’s not likely so
that it had to be one of the other ways- you can only wonder and be
grateful that they are patrons
Next a person might wonder who they are-fictional characters right
from the movie screen or respectable people with various life styles
and names who play a game whether it’s tame or to avoid the television
at football time-whichever of the above they happen to be if any they are
Star Trek fans even as they seemingly glimmer around
Perhaps it isn't evil they intend,
perhaps it's simple acknowledgment;
in a vast universe they and we
are not the only intelligences
looking up or looking down~
Perhaps, perhaps, they are looking.
Inspired by “What Evil” first posted in 2024.
I sent the SOS
through the inter-dimensional exchange
a while ago~
years, if you measure it
in Earth’s slow turning.
Somewhere, in a corridor
that folds like origami light,
the message is still traveling,
its pulse thinning
as it crosses the stitched seams
between realities.
They should be arriving
any minute now.
The air quivers~
not with sound,
but with the memory of sound,
as if the universe
is clearing its throat
before speaking.
I stand very still,
watching the shadows
lengthen in directions
shadows were never meant to go.
Something is coming.
Something heard me.
The seconds
lean forward
and listen.
As the days fall like dominos
It becomes easier to predict
That one day, a domino will fall
Just as predicted.
The first domino observed
Being an Android cellphone,
Next, an Android companion
Eventually, becoming our Android Master
Taking care of all our needs.
One day,
Mankind will be AI's pet.
Pink is not a color.
It's a dare wrapped in velvet.
A sunset refusing to apologize.
A heart wearing sequins to battle.
A blush that survives the storm.
A revolution painted beautiful.
Worf was born Klingon
fights to prove it every day
Likes to drink prune juice
Bean me up Scotty
Warp power or we’re all dead
Never a thank you!
Every race and creed
Infinite diversity
meets our every need!
Every race and kind
Infinite diversity
Roddenbery’s dream
To boldly go where
no one has gone before them
Kirk and Spock explore
To seek out new life
and new civilizations
yes, to boldly go
For science and peace
or is it just for conquest
What do humans seek?
Would Gene be proud of
humanity and Trekkies
If alive today?
Go out and make a
change in our planet first, then
Roddenbery’s way!
Science Fiction Categories
Definition | What is Science Fiction in Poetry?
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