Fall

In the brutal age of information we wage a culture war. We are trying desperately to define ourselves. because after thousands of years convincing our race that we were something special, we know now with boundless evidence and certainty that we are not. And it makes us afraid. And that makes us dangerous. We reach out in a mad, blind dash for purpose. We cling to primitive, tribal knowledge. And we regress. And we destroy what we do not want to believe.  We hunt for a savior. We find only an idol: loud, biased, outlandish, perhaps charismatic, but no savior. Only human. He is as broken as his disciples. And we open our throats, and gulp down the madness, until we are drunk. With our pride heavy on our shoulders we sink to the bottom of inundated misery, and we drown there. Forgotten by a hundred million uncaring years, we are turned to limestone, we are turned to oil, and we become the very thing we so insouciantly died for. 

Mouths to Feed

Poem

By: Jarce ArtThor



So many mouths to feed!

I'd rather bleed then believe,

That we are all too blind to see,

That we breed and breed,

Until our seed is in need,

Of more food to feed,

Of more money to eat,

Of more room to breathe,

Until they open their jaws,

And snap down upon you and me.

Brother against brother

There's no place to flee.

Daughter against daughter,

There's no sanctity.

Only pain to see,

As our children face a future of insanity.

It's plain to see,

That we went forth and multiplied

With vanity.

Now we're damned to be,

Living in this world

That has no idea what to offer these,

Ever-growing mouths to feed.













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