Saturday, September 23, 2017

Last of the Wind Riders is dead

Never have I felt such Sorrow. My Life Force is drained. I see not the Point of taking another breath. For what is there to Fight for? I stagger along, Numb and Dazed. Dear reader, if these words ever come to light, Pray your planet never reaches such a point. A darkness has Descended over our world. We stand abandoned in the Universe. I cannot bear the Shame of what we've done. I'm ready to find a rock, sit down, and Die. I've just been Kidding myself, a member of the walking dead after all. I always knew this Day would come, I just couldn't face it.

In the Green Zones they are celebrating - even if it does mean their own death. The Wind Riders flew over us, pointing out the dangers they saw below and the dangers they saw coming. The Power Lords bristled at the Riders' words. Reverence for the Riders undermined their base. They Twisted and Perverted the deeds of the Riders, declaring them enemies, that it is not doing evil that is Wrong, but to have it pointed out is Wrong. They stoked their followers to a Fever pitch, blaming the Riders for the Ills in their lives. Oh, the Lords are crafty in their Deceit, bemoaning every Rider murdered while stoking the Flames against them. There is no way Forward with treachery like that.

I see the Green Zoners sitting on comfortable cushions with earnest eyes closed, praying to the gods of Selfishness so they their Way of life may continue unabated. Anyone or anything that Opposes their comfort is declared evil. When the Wind Riders warned of the deforestation that led to the first Dead Zone, their days were Numbered. I see that now all too Clearly. The 'Holy People' put a contract out on them then called it the will of God. But the words of the Riders were my last Link to hope. As long as Truth is being expressed we still have a Chance. No one is left to Challenge the liars as they grow Conceited and openly Push people around.

I'm ready to take my Rest, and let Nature take her revenge.

Friday, September 08, 2017

Days of Rain and Laughter

Days of Rain and Laughter
Where the Beginning
Is as good as After

That's a part of a Poem I wrote long ago, in the before times: before the we lost the sun behind eternal Brown Clouds, before we ramped up the War Machine as in the Old World, before we became Two instead of One. These phrases have been long forgotten to me, as if washed down a Stream. It's unpleasant to think of what we've Lost. But I overheard some Green Zones kids laughing in the Face of love. I knew just from the Sound of their voices they had never put foot in a Dead Zone, their faith in their ignorance Unshakable. I instantly hated them, of course, but then I Remembered the poetry from my youth. It's simply too horrible to believe there's no Future.

Every face a Living smile
While our Cares are few
We love our Reckless style

But we have Precedence. We've Destroyed futures before with No Way Out. Coming to this Outpost was a thousand to one chance and six thousand years ago we Vowed we had learned our lesson. No more lucky strikes after this. We thought our success in getting a Second Chance was the hand of Destiny. We still repeat that Mantra to this day. And Feeling it's our destiny to survive we've then done nothing to Ensure it. It's like Jumping from a plane without a parachute, thinking why bother when you're Untouchable. Nature has no Mercy for fools.

Beware these seeds we're sowing!
We may not live carefree
Once we see what we've been growing

There is a great secret among us No One is allowed to speak or even give a Hint to. To allude to it in any way is like setting off a Bomb. It flips a Hidden Switch inside us, removing our Masks, unleashing Murderous savagery without thought, reason or Compunction. In other words, to Breathe is suicide. But every day it gets Harder to deny this secret. A consciousness hurls ever forward, unable to Unknow what's known. We sense that clock Ticking, hounding us, and to one day catch us, the Game over. But I will say it Now - easy for a doomed man to do. Despite our praise, and myths, and justice professed to be loved, we never did Repent.

Tuesday, May 16, 2017

I've come to Fear the Wind

My soul feels abandoned, pushed to the Edge of the universe. There's Nowhere I can turn. The sound of this Whistling wind, it's more terrifying, more lonely, more despairing than any Sound I've ever heard. What is there to fight For on this ravaged orb? It's as if we're Angry with the planet, outraged by its trying to Survive, that we must make it as Dead as we are for us to live. Through this desolation I Wander, horrified as never before.

I've seen destruction before, but this is on a new Level. There's almost a sense of Panic to it, that nothing can be left behind alive to bear Witness. But I do witness - and thus become enemy of the Power Lords simply by virtue of my sight. But to whom can I plea? Who can Hear my voice? This Apocalyptic feeling in which I Drown, who will ever know of it? And as we've seen before on old Earth, the Destroyers who are so desperate to Hide their dastardly deeds will one day destroy even themselves. Why do they Worry of witnesses?

I hear no hope in the sound of this whistling wind. No day passes without brown Chemical Clouds in the sky. The normal is to be Abnormal. When we first came to this outpost 6,000 years ago we Absolved ourselves. We knew Better. No way we destroy a second planet. But it seems Time has played us for Fools, that even as we quote the ideals of our original Founders it's only to give cover to our Betrayal. "Give us your Trust! You know we'd never repeat the mistakes of our Savage ancestors!" It became possible for us to wreck ourselves the minute we Decided it is Impossible to happen.

I don't even know why I keep this Journal. My first instinct was to document the Insanity and bring it to Light. But it's as if I've been Sobered dry by this nuclear wind. It makes me feel as if I've never been born. What's the point of Writing about a doomed world? Who is my audience? Realizing this has Forced me to consider just how Helpless I am. I'll be washed away, another dead body amid the abandoned industrial buildings so Toxic not even weeds can can grow. But I hope if some strange Alien does happen upon this diary someday when this orb is finally devoid of life, that you dear alien will Understand that if nothing else, I had to make a plea to the Universe.