The Fallen World Lives

The world has burned
The nations have fallen
The rise of machine
Has come and gone
The wasteland now lies
Where forests once thrived

The people live
not in cities great or small
But in homes that move
Across barren fields
And dried oceans
In metal shells

Some said the end had come
Others thought hope yet lived
Many waited for their turn to come
Yet for most the world went on
Trees grew in moving cities
And rain fell as it always has

The world went on
Life adapts and grew
Machines carried humanity
Across land and sea
Keeping them safe
Keeping life alive

Yet the world went on
And life returned
Forests returned
Oceans filled
Yet creatures of today
Were fell and lethal

So life continues
Not in sprawling cities
But in rolling fortresses
The world had ended
And a new one was born


Broken Dreams

shattered pieces of glass next to a building

Shattered hopes
Shattered dreams
What once was a future
Now lies broken on the sidewalk
Swept aside by time
Yet each piece
Cuts as deep as the first day
The ache and the pain
Of seeing others fulfill their dreams

Shattered hopes
Shattered dreams
Once was one future
Lies broken on the sidewalk
Once was one dream
Now becomes another
The whole that was broken
Now becomes something else

What was once broken parts
Now become elements of something new
Each piece changes and become something else
A new design from the broken parts

Shattered Hopes
Shattered Dreams
They can lay in the dust
Broken reminders
Or they can become something new
Something better something else
An end of one dream
Does not end all dreams

The Iron Soldier

He stands tall and proud
Rain beating upon his skin
Each drop a hammer against his armor
Oh his armor
Forged from fire and metal
It was held in awe
Once it gleamed
Once it shined
But no more
Now the armor is dull
Now the armor scarred and marred
As the armor was
So was the man
As the armor is
So is the man
Old now though not twenty years
Old now after twenty battles
He stands still
A seasoned warrior
Though his love is long gone
And his friends have fallen
He stands tall and proud
The Iron Wall between disaster

Monday Stories: Red Button

A young man stands alone on a pier. His dark eyes watch the people pass before him. Some are early morning runners. Others are families enjoying the first morning of vacation. The man leans forward on the railing. The thick, gray coat snaps in the wind.

A second man joins the first.

Like the first, he wears a long coat. Unlike the younger man, he is old with long hair and a full beard. Several minutes pass with only the sound of seagulls to mark the time.

“Have you decided yet?” The older man finally asks.


The younger man looks at the sky. He pulls out a small device. It is a small box. One side sports a single red button. The other side has a green switch. The man looks at the small item in his hand.

“Such an innocent device.”

“And that troubles you?”

“What do you want me to say?” He snaps angrily, “If I use this device, hundreds of thousands of people will drop dead. Without warning. Without any sign of foul play.”

The old man smiles weakly, “Or let them live and watch them turn. And then watch them destroy the world.”

“But it isn’t their fault.”

“But the choice still remains.”

The younger is silent for a moment, “It was easier. Before.”


“Fight this group. Eliminate that enemy. Hold this stronghold. That was a lot easier.”

“You have been preparing yourself for ten years.”

“I know but it doesn’t make it any easier.”

“But that is the choice. To choose to save the majority at the price of a handful. Or to step back and not play god.”

The younger man laughs, “But if I don’t make a choice, I am still playing god.”


“Is it a promise?”

The older man raises an eyebrow. The younger one inhales deeply. Slowly, the man lets the breath out slowly. He turns his attention to the harbor. A heavy tanker moves through the water. The younger man looks at the box.

“Will they turn? Possibly? When they turn, they will attack first their friends and family. Then they will attack those closest to them.”

“But I have to kill them? Why me?”

“The device is keyed to your DNA.”

“Of course it is.” He sighs, “Why wouldn’t it be.”

The man looks at the device. The green latch pulses green. The red button glows slightly. One side shuts down the devices implanted. The other triggers the devices in the body. The man rubs the thumbs on the two triggers.


Union Jack

She breaks the waves
With grace and ease
White sails dance above her
While her skin glistens gold
She passes across the ocean
With only the creak of wood
The crew is hard at work
but there is a calm and peace

Then a lookout shouts

Another ship has been spotted
Tensions mount as eyes strain
To catch sight of that ship
Then a shout rings out
the order goes out to the crew
The ship turns with silence
Cannons are run out
Ready to fire, ready to fight

The two ships close the distance
Beneath the black and white
Of the Skull and Bones
Men in ragged clothes
Raise their swords
Their voices cry for blood

Beneath the Union Jack
Men in white and blue
Wait in silence for orders
They answer raucous cries
With silent patience
Swords and gun held steady

Then the ships close
Captain stare hard at one another
One with a scarred face but
Clean uniform
The other tattooed
And sports those he killed

“Kill them!”
The orders are given
Black barrels
Bellow and roar
Spitting fire and iron
Cannon balls tear holes
In hull and men
Pistol shots
Sing and dance

An hour passes by
Gray clouds hang
Between the ships
As a thin curtain
Both are battered
both have suffered
Yet both continue

Then a shot
Fired by the Union Jack
Slices through the hull
Of the Skull and Bones
Deeper and deeper it goes
Shattering a man
Destroying a gun
Then its lands among barrels

They explode beneath the impact
Scattering black powder
And hurling shards of wood
For a moment the hot ball
Sits quietly on top of wood
Then the ship lurches
It rolls off its perch
And lands among the powder
A second later, it explodes

The Skull and Bone
Once magnificent and equal
Screams out a tortured cry
As its back is split in two
Fire rushes up
Consuming wood and men
The guns fall silent
As men scream

In minutes, the Skull and Bone
Vanishes into David Jone’s locker
With only dead and debris
To make her passing
“Stand down! Pick up survivors!”
The order goes out
Cannons are secured
Repairs begin
And the Union Jack
Survives one more tiem

The Library

I was at the local library the other day and I wondered how long it was before such physical locations would follow the way of movie rental places. But then I realized that libraries should never disappear from our city streets.

Why should we be worried about an “obsolete” thing as a physical library?

Well, this is my thought on the matter:

You can pick up a book and read things written by another human being years, decades, or in some cases centuries ago. As a reader, you are able to delve into the mind of a person you have never met before. Here you can explore their thoughts, opinions, and views on life.

Or if you’re like me and like sci-fi, you can live out a dozen different lives. From some lonely space ranger defending her outpost from invading aliens or defending the galaxy as a Jedi Knight of the Old Republic, you can be more than just a human working through life on this little blue gem we call earth.

Libraries have always been part of my life. Growing up in the country had its benefits but also its drawbacks, especially since this was the time of dial up internet connection. If you don’t know what that is, ask your mom or dad. Libraries allowed me to expand my knowledge out in the middle of nowhere.

From reading about military actions of past wars to how to dig up dinosaur bones to reading about Captain Kirk and his starship, I had a wider range of interest than most kids.

But now libraries are going by the wayside thanks to the availability of the internet. But the value of the library is greater now. Physical books cannot be edited because someone disagrees with it nor can it be taken down with a click of a mouse because it offended someone. Books are sources of knowledge that is as close to written in stone as we can get.

Why do you think the great tyrants of history always supported book burning when they were coming to power? They may have said it was destroying the old but what it really was destroying anything that had a dissenting opinion, something that would make their followers think for themselves.

And therein lies the power of the library. To be a repository where anyone can examine history from the views of the people who lived through it. And then form their own opinion of it.

So support your library!

Old Knight

An old knight stands alone

Upon a hill of bone and blood.

His armor creak

As he shifts his feet.

Once silver now tarnished,

Once smooth now dented

The armor darken by red stains.
An old knight stands alone

With friends long gone.

His breath labored,

His body in pain,

As he prepares once again

To fight to kill.

To defend this hill
An old knight stands alone

Against the oncoming horde.

He stands against his foe,

With blade drawned
Notched and chipped.

He takes them one by one,

Till the battle is done.
An old knight stands alone

Far from his home.

His blade now broken

And helm now torn.

His thoughts go far now,

To where his family dwell

To where his child wails.
An old knight lies alone.

Among the dead’s bones.

His eyes are closed,

His heart now stilled.

His family now safe.

His nation now saved.

Thanks to his choice.
An old knight lies alone.

His body gone,

His armor decayed.

A stone now stands

Where his blade did dance.

He made safe his family’s life
At the price of his own.
An old knight lies alone,

His bones long gone.

But now and then

You can see him stand.

Upon that old hill,

Soundless and still,

Standing guard once again.