Godlike Productions - Conspiracy Forum
Users Online Now: 2,857 (Who's On?)Visitors Today: 2,545,968
Pageviews Today: 3,475,669Threads Today: 781Posts Today: 15,276
08:48 PM


Rate this Thread

Absolute BS Crap Reasonable Nice Amazing
 

Old Volgon Poetry

 
Anonymous Coward
User ID: 1336841
United States
02/22/2013 11:10 PM
Report Abusive Post
Report Copyright Violation
Old Volgon Poetry
I am an electronics technician.
I am a steel blade meant for two.
And in this hard time recession, will
draw the curtains and take a cue.

Wintergreen, and summer fresh primates,
gathering round the evening fire. That soulless
patch of gray, those dead-end happenings. They all journeyed
through that one-shot barrel, and then wished for more.

Wintry day, full of harmony.
Harmony in that timeless place.
The duo that will blow you away. Looking on,
one will make a fist, and the other slowly peels away.

To that ultimate regurgitation.
To those songs and sayings.
We all danced prayerfully in those days.
We all wished for our souls to return to us.

But lost in the ticker-tape parade,our child-like fingers were lost, set loose,
and then let free. The burning of mass, taking shape in the burning of me.

Setting sail, cast in stone and sea. This is the sound, and the form of me.
Outlast, outcast, you were then to linger on too long in those
obsessions. Spoken freely of to past-life regressions.
Depressions left in that entropic state.

Lock and file, rank and load bearing strength.
To this day, it has been deemed to be quite useful.

A test subject. Subjected to, red blue and green. Generally making time, that
little known fella, makes waves and sighs. And then returns to the sea.
The next turn in the sky. To be known in foam taking refuge in, a temple lain high,
under an unfurling, furrowing tsunami wave far overhead. Thrown memory-cache,
straight to the front of the checkout line, added to that pearlescent and stranded shore.

I too know the feeling of wanton know-how. I too know that feeling of being one-upped by an immeasurable fate. I belong to you, and you belong to me. We all are in this to transpire to that freely given state. We all gibbous gibbons dance with the devils in our turn. The ones there screaming, the all gibbering miscreants. Misinformed, they all creaked together in their swamps, in unsettling unison. All this while contained within, a verdant and shimmering field.
Anonymous Coward
User ID: 34971544
United States
02/22/2013 11:14 PM
Report Abusive Post
Report Copyright Violation
Re: Old Volgon Poetry
Ahh! My Ears! No more! No-er...I mean, that was.....very......lovely. And....um, what's the word...inspiring? Yes, that's it.
Anonymous Coward (OP)
User ID: 1336841
United States
02/22/2013 11:16 PM
Report Abusive Post
Report Copyright Violation
Re: Old Volgon Poetry
Shall I continue then? Ahem...
Anonymous Coward
User ID: 34898187
United States
02/22/2013 11:20 PM
Report Abusive Post
Report Copyright Violation
Re: Old Volgon Poetry
Vogon Poetry

[link to en.wikipedia.org]
Anonymous Coward (OP)
User ID: 1336841
United States
02/22/2013 11:22 PM
Report Abusive Post
Report Copyright Violation
Re: Old Volgon Poetry
I meant Vulgar
Anonymous Coward (OP)
User ID: 1336841
United States
02/22/2013 11:25 PM
Report Abusive Post
Report Copyright Violation
Re: Old Volgon Poetry
Slipstream Consciousness

Attend the culling, my friend. Your time has come. We stars dance light, and bloom, ever-lasting.

We, a group of interconnected stranded, high-dollar shattered beings.

Fractal things.

At once, the alpha and the omega, the broken hearted.

Within an ever-expanding universe, we all share these lives; these miniscule heartbeats, … of vital significance.

That great flickering of stars, among which you'll find, you and I. All at once, … considering ourselves, as the curtains blaze.

Earthlings prevail. Peas in a pod.

These ever-slow, branching-forths. Before the first-stroke of light, we find ourselves inflating, … as the masters of the forests.

Slowly cresting, streaming branches, to the very never-ends.

Last Earthling, …, break-away.



I was there. And miss the comfort her presence brings. Dwindling forth, to a lone heart singularity.
Falling alone, …, feeling the cold wind; shivering.
Treading this path alone, apart from my betrothed.
And on this cold, last day, … cold winter chill breaks; for the eyeless go on, through time.
I will always be there,.... , when I was hers, …, and she were mine.



Yet, having been, an integral player, in the death of a once match-less love, I know now, that the light- one, with the wind sways, and in that spell-state, is easily dispelled.
And if the time comes, that I may love again; rushing through this, not be done; but I shall remain, sojourned in.


The void between, the spinning banded thing.
You stole my gaze away.
Pulsing beacon, forever lost.
As atlas before me, the first one's thus.
The love, … the light, … is coming not.
Connection breaking, … forever lost.



The one eyed-being, from all-time,
this one-time.

The one -eyed being, of all time, transcends the mortal mind.
A quest to find, my proper place;
futile gesture at best.
The being that is, … the sun-drenched canopy,
under whose dappled floor, I was always a part.
This eye, this time, counted endlessly, always.


Mine, …, forever will be mine,
to the end of time, … we will not abate.
That life of mine, among multitudes entwined.
That first-date, in this life I find,
as we part our ways,
forever united,
for the being of infinite eyes.

As enormity stretches on,
dead adult veiwing never-ending horizons



I am the man, gained from my losses.
My brothers, all dead, expired from causes.
The trunk of my being, I find myself now,
as branches take root, above and below.
The ends are all illuminated,
as light blinds, the burst within grade,
the end of myself, under all-seeing gaze.




The mind within, the inner-tracts of my mind.

States of being, we do not yet glimpse.
The next layer peeled, the next time im observing,



From end, to the beginning again, …
lies everything eternally.

Take heart; this grasping, overnight-vector.
From the fields of our births we roam,
upon the planet I call home;
while dawn breaks, and everything precludes me.
Never-ending accomplishing,
that which I desire.
From first light, to first light,
that goal is ever out of reach.
We baser, luminescent knaves,
strive for artificial goals;
the life we hold,
never a rust upon.

Dare I say,
or didn't I say?
These paths I have chosen,
and guide the way.

I have forgiven, and sought forgiveness.
The gray veil of guilt rising.
To the sun I now turn to face,
as the life I seek, is laid before me.
Every moment, as I forge ahead,
a chance for me, to prove my worth.
Potentialities sought, and always eventually reached.
I will fulfill my will, as my heart guides me.


From this,... the living worlds of the mortals,
know that I live through you.
You feeble, … you strong in soul,
your days are mine.
The times through which you wade,
are illuminated by your mere presences.

My presence, …
in and from your lives.
All the intricacies,
your ever-branch creation,
laid bare before me.

In the lowliest life,
glimpse the eternal mind.
The alpha, the omega,
from an infinitude of experiences,
I arise.

Each of you,
the beginning,
and the end, of a universe.
A pearl on a shimmering strand;
a tapestry,
of all that is, and all that will be.
There will be a time,
a place where beings
(whose dimensions dwarf what can be imagined)
will seek to know,
I will take the silence for approval.

The grand history of conscious brothers.


As eons pass,
the years have passed
into a writers caress.
These times I find,
myself entranced
in a world of ashen gray.
Ashen skies, … dreary days.
Light without,
the light within.
Aimless steps,
I trudge along.
Crystalline skies, a tomb,
for which all is lost.


True is he that throws aside the veil.
A mirror for those with eyes.
Darkened days, do him not impale.
Full of air, … full of life.

The skies are falling, on all those alive.
The knowing breath for all to take.
Silence, a whisper, …
silence,... the quake.
Anonymous Coward (OP)
User ID: 1336841
United States
02/22/2013 11:25 PM
Report Abusive Post
Report Copyright Violation
Re: Old Volgon Poetry
Slipstream Consciousness

Attend the culling, my friend. Your time has come. We stars dance light, and bloom, ever-lasting.

We, a group of interconnected stranded, high-dollar shattered beings.

Fractal things.

At once, the alpha and the omega, the broken hearted.

Within an ever-expanding universe, we all share these lives; these miniscule heartbeats, … of vital significance.

That great flickering of stars, among which you'll find, you and I. All at once, … considering ourselves, as the curtains blaze.

Earthlings prevail. Peas in a pod.

These ever-slow, branching-forths. Before the first-stroke of light, we find ourselves inflating, … as the masters of the forests.

Slowly cresting, streaming branches, to the very never-ends.

Last Earthling, …, break-away.



I was there. And miss the comfort her presence brings. Dwindling forth, to a lone heart singularity.
Falling alone, …, feeling the cold wind; shivering.
Treading this path alone, apart from my betrothed.
And on this cold, last day, … cold winter chill breaks; for the eyeless go on, through time.
I will always be there,.... , when I was hers, …, and she were mine.



Yet, having been, an integral player, in the death of a once match-less love, I know now, that the light- one, with the wind sways, and in that spell-state, is easily dispelled.
And if the time comes, that I may love again; rushing through this, not be done; but I shall remain, sojourned in.


The void between, the spinning banded thing.
You stole my gaze away.
Pulsing beacon, forever lost.
As atlas before me, the first one's thus.
The love, … the light, … is coming not.
Connection breaking, … forever lost.



The one eyed-being, from all-time,
this one-time.

The one -eyed being, of all time, transcends the mortal mind.
A quest to find, my proper place;
futile gesture at best.
The being that is, … the sun-drenched canopy,
under whose dappled floor, I was always a part.
This eye, this time, counted endlessly, always.


Mine, …, forever will be mine,
to the end of time, … we will not abate.
That life of mine, among multitudes entwined.
That first-date, in this life I find,
as we part our ways,
forever united,
for the being of infinite eyes.

As enormity stretches on,
dead adult veiwing never-ending horizons



I am the man, gained from my losses.
My brothers, all dead, expired from causes.
The trunk of my being, I find myself now,
as branches take root, above and below.
The ends are all illuminated,
as light blinds, the burst within grade,
the end of myself, under all-seeing gaze.




The mind within, the inner-tracts of my mind.

States of being, we do not yet glimpse.
The next layer peeled, the next time im observing,



From end, to the beginning again, …
lies everything eternally.

Take heart; this grasping, overnight-vector.
From the fields of our births we roam,
upon the planet I call home;
while dawn breaks, and everything precludes me.
Never-ending accomplishing,
that which I desire.
From first light, to first light,
that goal is ever out of reach.
We baser, luminescent knaves,
strive for artificial goals;
the life we hold,
never a rust upon.

Dare I say,
or didn't I say?
These paths I have chosen,
and guide the way.

I have forgiven, and sought forgiveness.
The gray veil of guilt rising.
To the sun I now turn to face,
as the life I seek, is laid before me.
Every moment, as I forge ahead,
a chance for me, to prove my worth.
Potentialities sought, and always eventually reached.
I will fulfill my will, as my heart guides me.


From this,... the living worlds of the mortals,
know that I live through you.
You feeble, … you strong in soul,
your days are mine.
The times through which you wade,
are illuminated by your mere presences.

My presence, …
in and from your lives.
All the intricacies,
your ever-branch creation,
laid bare before me.

In the lowliest life,
glimpse the eternal mind.
The alpha, the omega,
from an infinitude of experiences,
I arise.

Each of you,
the beginning,
and the end, of a universe.
A pearl on a shimmering strand;
a tapestry,
of all that is, and all that will be.
There will be a time,
a place where beings
(whose dimensions dwarf what can be imagined)
will seek to know,
I will take the silence for approval.

The grand history of conscious brothers.


As eons pass,
the years have passed
into a writers caress.
These times I find,
myself entranced
in a world of ashen gray.
Ashen skies, … dreary days.
Light without,
the light within.
Aimless steps,
I trudge along.
Crystalline skies, a tomb,
for which all is lost.


True is he that throws aside the veil.
A mirror for those with eyes.
Darkened days, do him not impale.
Full of air, … full of life.

The skies are falling, on all those alive.
The knowing breath for all to take.
Silence, a whisper, …
silence,... the quake.
Anonymous Coward (OP)
User ID: 1336841
United States
02/22/2013 11:27 PM
Report Abusive Post
Report Copyright Violation
Re: Old Volgon Poetry
Join in anyone with bad poetry that can't compare to truly beautiful work.
Anonymous Coward
User ID: 423542
United States
02/22/2013 11:27 PM
Report Abusive Post
Report Copyright Violation
Re: Old Volgon Poetry
Interesting rhythmic devices
Anonymous Coward
User ID: 1044117
United States
02/22/2013 11:27 PM
Report Abusive Post
Report Copyright Violation
Re: Old Volgon Poetry
Oh, VOLGON. I was expecting more musings from Prostetnic Jeltz.
Anonymous Coward (OP)
User ID: 1336841
United States
02/22/2013 11:28 PM
Report Abusive Post
Report Copyright Violation
Re: Old Volgon Poetry
I got plenty more where that came from.
Anonymous Coward (OP)
User ID: 1336841
United States
02/22/2013 11:29 PM
Report Abusive Post
Report Copyright Violation
Re: Old Volgon Poetry
That reference is over my head
Anonymous Coward (OP)
User ID: 1336841
United States
02/22/2013 11:30 PM
Report Abusive Post
Report Copyright Violation
Re: Old Volgon Poetry
And I'm lazy
Anonymous Coward (OP)
User ID: 1336841
United States
02/22/2013 11:34 PM
Report Abusive Post
Report Copyright Violation
Re: Old Volgon Poetry
“Mr Alvarez. Its good to finally meet you. I have a favor to ask of you. Be still now, and take this instruction. When next we meet, chatterling, you will be the one that makes the last call. You will be standing there, quivering in the snow. Gray and fading, upright center mass like a blade of grass that has been fast frozen.”

“When next we meet, I might see the deception.” And a cold smile, pierced across my lips. “This life has always been mine, and the struggle has ever been me. You too shall feel that burn quench across your lips. <Burning fire, the promised gold> and your deception shall not carry this one away. I know from whence these words come, which are given freely to me.”

Suddenly a passion woke within me, of past life remembrances, peak times under a blazing sun. we all laughed, we all danced, we all died. This has always been, my world.

As awake as the next. From left to right. Alive with the rest. You lay there shimmering. Foaming effervescent thing you be.

I know what backs, the life in me. That force field that I hold here still. Watching you there, watching me. That pressure always there, on the edge of green fields. I follow, along the grid lines, and then finally there you see me,.

Its been a while I guess. I say, not quite that impressed to not say it just like all the rest of them.

Awakened thing you sit there far too cheaply. I would like to extend this hand, to lay proclamation in name of this plan:

keep it structured, and maintain lay steady rhythm. Know that it is still out there. Those edges of your perceptions. That black unfathoming mass that rolls in, over our heads. Great wave, at last from beyond.

World will be maintained. You will keep laying claim to, to a minimum when beyond furthest recognized borders. That in curving great satchel lining, swung out like a claw from hip of one I would lay with.

On that cold rainy day, in what was once May, we all sank back with our neighbors in a gigantically massive reflex reaction. We all will know, that our time is still looked back from without with admiration. There was a gentle and amazing end product to this destructed fate. We all lay wrapped, and entwined with each other. We beings that we are, humble, holy, fleecing in our attempt to please thee.

I know the power from whence this tale comes, and act with humility. I seek your approval.

How to go one, and then acting upon the vagrant dreams flying by unfettered there in this holy wind. There is always the backstory. Our shared reflections of this less dense time. Before what we braved
what we know know of as the honey coated crystallization that we held onto for, then, for dear life.

if you can never find it, leave it as it is. For it has came and done. And undone, from the back up the spine, fibrous taken a beating beinge, huddled there savagely at the port door. Overarching this time of great savagry. The great beauty of all we know. And from when we all have come.

I am your senator, and I will raise our stakes. These lands are our rightful inheritance. We are one with her. We all have something in common here. At last.

You have all voted me < jason ...> for this proclamation, and welcome, for all at our footsteps. We know you and we love. What you are yet to face, as a race, of this burgeoning great questioning why.

those old ways are gone. Those times even, when we knew not, we knew not. We all apparently were begging before we sharply rebutted our earlier,
Anonymous Coward (OP)
User ID: 1336841
United States
02/22/2013 11:38 PM
Report Abusive Post
Report Copyright Violation
Re: Old Volgon Poetry
I got plenty more so tell me when you've had enough of this horrid filth.
Anonymous Coward (OP)
User ID: 1336841
United States
02/22/2013 11:42 PM
Report Abusive Post
Report Copyright Violation
Re: Old Volgon Poetry
And what next, he begged the question. What right makes thee to interfere into my vicinity, while I lay down in submission and worship to my deity? You know me, it said. You know me and what ill do. You lay awake at night, mind tempted to curl under into that homely makeshift shack thrown up to guard against the encroaching winter storm.

What have you to show me, it spoke then to me. It spoke into a vibratory response pulsing uvula centered towards the base of my brain. We looked then, time standing still, into each others eyes, assessing the patrons around us. Field examined, I faced forward to the one there across from me.

What shall it be, I said solidly to him. Wiping down still steaming glasses to replace in the cupboards. All this was said, ever mindful of my fellows beside me. They required that I act in accordance with its ancient traditions of servitude. Thus these predators stood there before me.

In the presence of those piercing, and cunning eyes, I was reminded of my unarmored underbelly. Pivoting my ribs, ever so slightly, to a more entrenched fighting stance.

This is the time that I have given you. You are given these seconds to perform the jobs at hand, at this very moment to you and your ilk. You sit there, unaware that this whole field of harvest-able and vulnerable souls as thee, this hominid here before me.

You think on the short time your kind has been informed of the lessons of space. Give time to me, give time for a gentle, time worn understanding, of the life that develops on this beautiful world of yours.

We have seen many generations of you, come and go, always succeeding in failing, yet again. Concurrently that frothing and roiling sine wave of green and lush grass covered mountains. We speak now to each other, then the connection is lost and we wont make contact again until this age is gone.

All this I have suspected now, for a time that this sole thing would call long. Those stinging blades, sent towards me, even to the very nature of us. This must be a signal to my kind, that we are something more than what the worst case scenario would have us be. I am proud to have lived in this time that you find me in.

speak to me as a fellow sentient being that has arose in the span of this cosmic incarnation. We can speak of a relationship that should have evolved, at this point, into a mutually beneficial arrangement.

Truer words, from your kind, have rarely been spoken. I do notice those times of illusory beauty. There frozen, like I've always seen you on those sun drenched moments shared in the sun.

Take heed, for the time of your kind is slowly coming to an end. Take pride in this, you've seen the start of a cleansing that will lead to another age of enlightenment.
Anonymous Coward
User ID: 1044117
United States
02/22/2013 11:48 PM
Report Abusive Post
Report Copyright Violation
Re: Old Volgon Poetry
That reference is over my head
 Quoting: Anonymous Coward 1336841


It's from The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, by Douglas Adams. The Vogons were a race of aliens whose poetry was said to be the third worse in the Universe. Yours is so much better, and doesn't cause hemhorraging.
Anonymous Coward (OP)
User ID: 1336841
United States
02/23/2013 12:04 AM
Report Abusive Post
Report Copyright Violation
Re: Old Volgon Poetry
Outlast?
I was born to raise the glass.
That's what you call the failure,
that by which you call me.

Seeing rosy rimmed eyes,
lenses too dimmed to last;
tab open that mind,
know that I feel,
what you needle in the sand.

The mind that outgrows,
that know,
that know the souls,
and flows with the moment.
Anonymous Coward (OP)
User ID: 1336841
United States
02/23/2013 12:05 AM
Report Abusive Post
Report Copyright Violation
Re: Old Volgon Poetry
Goodnight, I am getting tired. Thanks for listening.
Dr. AculaModerator
Forum Moderator

User ID: 80172
United States
02/23/2013 12:08 AM

Report Abusive Post
Report Copyright Violation
Re: Old Volgon Poetry
dasbier
Anonymous Coward
User ID: 20188885
United States
02/23/2013 12:26 AM
Report Abusive Post
Report Copyright Violation
Re: Old Volgon Poetry
wow my threads drop fast
Anonymous Coward
User ID: 20188885
United States
02/23/2013 01:02 AM
Report Abusive Post
Report Copyright Violation
Re: Old Volgon Poetry
so I have a small collection of writing like this that I think could possibly get published with a lot of editing. there are sketches to go along with a lot of these also. I really will not be too offended if anyone tells me to keep it solely as a hobby.
Floobarb the Argnorf

User ID: 5059077
United States
02/23/2013 01:12 AM
Report Abusive Post
Report Copyright Violation
Re: Old Volgon Poetry
I really would prefer to listen to "Ode to the Little Green Lump of Putty I Found Under My Armpit One Mid-summer Morning".
The Aluminated One
Anonymous Coward
User ID: 20188885
United States
02/23/2013 01:14 AM
Report Abusive Post
Report Copyright Violation
Re: Old Volgon Poetry
I feel the silence. is it bad? please let me know, no hard feelings
Anonymous Coward
User ID: 20188885
United States
02/23/2013 02:20 AM
Report Abusive Post
Report Copyright Violation
Re: Old Volgon Poetry
would someone at least say something to me please. I would take a flat out insult at this point. I can't sleep
Anonymous Coward
User ID: 905237
United States
02/23/2013 02:23 AM
Report Abusive Post
Report Copyright Violation
Re: Old Volgon Poetry
I really would prefer to listen to "Ode to the Little Green Lump of Putty I Found Under My Armpit One Mid-summer Morning".
 Quoting: Floobarb the Argnorf


whilst shaving
Anonymous Coward
User ID: 20188885
United States
02/23/2013 02:25 AM
Report Abusive Post
Report Copyright Violation
Re: Old Volgon Poetry
that bad huh?
Anonymous Coward
User ID: 33982388
Australia
02/23/2013 02:26 AM
Report Abusive Post
Report Copyright Violation
Re: Old Volgon Poetry
Join in anyone with bad poetry that can't compare to truly beautiful work.
 Quoting: Anonymous Coward 1336841


Ok then.

THE DOOM


Day in day out we pump it out,
the toxic loads of doom.
We see a tree and chop it down,
we have to make more room.

With numbered days in endless ways,
we study and refine.
New and ever better ways,
to speed forth our demise.

Since caveman one clubbed caveman two
and thought "What a good idea".
We've been making room for doom,
and more ways to spread fear.


And now our days, they slip away,
we fight, kill and abuse.
We cant get on and so we bomb,
those with different views.

So we fight wars, break natures laws,
and leave love far behind.
We wonder why the planets dying,
you beginning to see why?

We just dont care either here or there,
one way or the other.
As long as beer is in the fridge,
our bellies lined with blubber.

We see THE DOOM there on the news
and think "gee..thats so so sad"
..but pass the chips and the spicy dip...
and change the channel dad!
Anonymous Coward
User ID: 20188885
United States
02/23/2013 02:29 AM
Report Abusive Post
Report Copyright Violation
Re: Old Volgon Poetry
I didn't think that was bad at all. I enjoyed that.
Anonymous Coward
User ID: 20188885
United States
02/23/2013 03:21 AM
Report Abusive Post
Report Copyright Violation
Re: Old Volgon Poetry
Ok do I need to see a psychologist? Are there encoded messages left for me . I am taking it too far this time.
Anonymous Coward (OP)
User ID: 1336841
United States
02/23/2013 09:44 AM
Report Abusive Post
Report Copyright Violation
Re: Old Volgon Poetry
Well it's not for me to question. I like what I do and will continue to do it. Public or private. These poems are nothing more than a hobby for me.

News