Interwoven

Slowly shifting
through the endless shake
moving away
too far away for me to reach
taking everything in their stride
trampling consciousness
tearing my soul apart
strumming my heart
with an endless grinding of minds
slowly fading
echoing footfalls dying out as they leave
leaving only a silent trace
and the dreaded memory of a single kiss

Annonser
Interwoven

Silence

Sweltering in silence
by the fires forged from what I call ignorance
wanting nothing more than the smell of a friend
yet they call ignorance bliss

Rythmic heartbeats
yet it seems to carry no more than further longing
a broken longing interspersed with chaotic darkness
I want the crying silenced

Pounding emptiness
in what I must know is a life lived beyond expectations
still the deep dark lies patiently waiting within
take my dreams away

Know my mind
yet I despair of seeing someone I know I will trust
colours oddly faded and horizons melting away
sitting by my fire

Teach me new songs
so that I may have a tool to use for calling
bring rain so wild colours might bloom
make your hearth into mine

Silence

One of the unreturned

The navigator sat in the deep, dark silence woven around him. He existed within that dark space as a lone thought in a mind the size of the universe. For all he knew he was just a lone thought in a universe. He knew for a fact that he was not; he was constantly aware of the others on the ship. But in the long hours of their flight the navigator had come to realize things were not as they should be. Not on the ship – the crew were chosen for their absolute faith in the mission and their easily cleansed minds – but inside him. It was nothing concrete, and often he did not even sense it, but there was something there that should not be there. It was a precursor to a feeling of sorts, which the navigator should not have. Navigators were the most complex of the Creations and went through very rigourous testing before even being succumbed to the simulations, and only very few of them went through the iterations with good enough scores to actually be but in charge of a ship. The navigator knew everything inside him was as it should: as close to perfect as was possible. And yet he had doubts. Suddenly the navigator hit the Wall, and senses tensed and light ascended.

”Input caution. Confirmation required.”
”Acknowledged.” said the support officer on duty. ”Dispatching officer to the indicated input. Stand by for manual confirmation.”
”I can see why it needed confirmation.” said the voice of one of the input officers. ”Looks like one of ours.”
”Out here?”
”Yes. The data is uploaded now.”
”Confirmed. One of ours. Preliminery report, Navigator.”
”The probe Atlas.”
The support officer examined the object in front of him. ”The radioactive decay would agree. It came a long way. Is it contaminated?”
”No.”
”Wery well then. Total download and put it in the bucket.”
”Acknowledged.” The darkness came back.

It was not total darkness. The navigator had access to the optical inputs of course, so he could in a way see infinity. A lone thought, in an infite universe. He brought up the Atlas reports generated. Such an old thing. It would hold little interest to anyone, or everyone, depending on whether the historians considered it of interest or not. Maybe this would be part of a new story? As everyone had, the navigator had a profound sense of the importance of the stories. They shaped, they guided, they led through dangerous paths. In a way, the navigator was like a storyteller: endlessly telling stories and paths through the rigors of existance. Only the navigator had no audience. Or anything else besides that infinite darkness. This was the navigators purpose and he took comfort in it, yet still… Time passed, and the cycles never ended. The navigator saw what would have been three years pass by before it hit the Wall again, with its sounds and colours and light.
”Input caution. Confirmation required.”
”Acknowledged.” said the support offices on duty. It was a different man. ”Dispatching officer to the indicated input. Stand by for manual confirmation.”
”Just a meteorite … why the caution, Navigator?”
”It has large quantities of water.”
”So? Hang on, is that really a cause for a caution?”
”Yes, as it is very rare in this quadrant.”
”Ah. Yes. Very rare elements would cause a caution. In hindsight it probably wasn’t a good idea to implement, but it is very pretty. I’ll put it on display, shall I?”
”Negative, put it in the bucket with the others.” sighed the support officer. Darkness descended once again.

Like a lone thought in an infinite universe the navigator guided the ship through the stars.

One of the unreturned

The quest of the purple

”Is this thing on? Alright. Let’s begin. Jenny?”
”…”
”Jenny, focus please. Jenny! Focus! What’s your status?”
”…”
”You didn’t do the prechecks? Are you serious? That is in your job description!”
”…”
”No, just shut up Jenny. Shut up. No, shut up. Jenny. Jenny? Just flip the switch, ok. Just … do it, ok?”
”…”
”Whatever. Are you all ready, then, finally? I did not think I would have to ask at this point, but apparently I do have to ask. Are you all ready?”
”…” ”…” ”…” ”…”
”Ok. Whatever. Fine. Ok. Starting test Gamma-3, number twentyseven. The injector is on standby, preparing red-one. … … Ok, looks good. Ben, inject red-one.”
”…”
”Inject red-one, Ben.”
”…”
”BEN! Red-one! Now, ifyouwouldsokindlyplease!”
”…”
”Yes. Ok. Fine. Thank you. No, really, thank you. I should just tattoo that in my face because man I hate saying it to you.”
”…”
”Whatever. Whatever! Red-one is go. … Red-one is gamma-stable. Prepare mauve-three. Pete?”
”…”
”Yes, we are.”
”…”
”No, that was last week. Are you serious?”
”…”
”WHAT-EVER. Abort! Abort, abort, abort, abort. We’ll have to start over. For the record and for the future generations should you unlucky sods ever uncover this crap, Pete thought we were still on mauve-two. Get a grip, Pete. I’m serious.
”…”
”Clean out the spam then!”
”…”
”No, I did say it in the meeting.”
”…”
”I remember it.”
”…”
”NO. Shut up, Pete. Just get mauve-three so we can get going, ok?”
”…”
”Just go. Just go. No, no, just get it.”
”…”
”I really can’t believe this. I need a break. Listen up, while Pete is setting up mauve-three, take five.”
”…”
”WHATEVER!”
”…”
”…”
”…”
”…”
”Ok, we’re back. Jenny, is the injector still in standby?”
”…”
”You shut it down? I … Why?”
”…”
”No, just … Take another five, everyone.”
”…”
”…”
”So, Jenny. Standby, is the injector at least tangential to the concept?”
”…”
”Ok. Starting test Gamma-3, number twentyeight. The injector is on standby, preparing red-one. … … Ben, red-one please.”
”…”
”Good. … Red-one is gamma-stable. Prepare mauve-three. … Pete, inject mauve-three.”
”…”
”Alright. Mauve-three is gamma-stable. Looks good so far. Liv, how’s the beta-levels?”
”…”
”Coherent, Liv. I appreciate it. Alright. Kim, prepare delta-lavender.”
”…”
”Ok, inject delta-lavender.”
”…”
”That’s… Uh… Liv, readings please? What is that?”
”…”
”What? No, that can’t be right.”
”…”
”Yes, I see it too, but … Wait. Kim?”
”…”
”That’s purple-ten, isn’t it?”
”…”
”Look at the label please.”
”…”
”… and it’s five-five-zed-three, which is what, Kim?”
”…”
”Yes, indeed. Abort! Abort is another word I need tatooed somewhere. Abort! Liv, anything useful at all?”
”…”
”What is the speaking equivalent to caps lock again? All right, yelling. I will not yell because I am an adult and I am a thinking person and I do not let my emotions run away with me but I can definitely feel some very, very cold logic coming up.”
”…”
”Just forget about it, Kim. Get delta-lavender, and read the labels. That is why they are there.”
”…”
”Yes, I know that is stupid, but it’s how it is. Whatever. Whatever! Take five!”
”…”
”…”
”…”
”Ok, we’re back. Starting test Gamma-3, number twenynine. Jenny, I really hope you left the injector in standby this time.
”…”
”Fine. Red-one, Ben.”
”…”
” … Aaaand mauve-three, Pete.”
”…”
” … Delta-lavender, hit it.”
”…”
”Liv, readings? Looks fine from here.”
”…”
”Excellent. Everything’s looking nice and purple.”
”…”
”It’s a shade of purple.”
”…”
”They’re all purple. Whatever! Prepare lilac. And Jenny, I hope that is just lilac and not lilac-1.”
”…”
”Good. Prepare injection. Carefully. … And go.”
”…”
”…!”
”…!”
”Well, that was interesting. What happened, Liv? Ben, stop laughing. Ben, please. It is funny, but also not really. Ben. Ben? BEN! Have some water, dude. Jenny, don’t cry. I’m sure it wasn’t your fault. Liv?”
”…”
”Ah. See, totally random Jenny! It is pretty volatile at this stage; there was a backsurge just when you were about to inject the lilac.”
”…”
”Jenny, calm down. Take a break. Wash up. Use the … the soap, you know. The special soap. What’s it called again?”
”…”
”Yeah, that. You’ll be fine, Jenny. You’ll be fine. Ok. See you in a bit, OK?”
”…”
”She gone?”
”…!”
”…!”
”…!”
”…!”
”Yeah, whoooooo. Hahaha, oh man. She will have to shave off that hair unless she likes that colour. … Ok. I’m fine. And relax.”
”…”
”Liv, anything useful? You got the backsurge stored for analysis?”
”…”
”Excellent. Every day we learn. Carl, take Jennys spot. I’m sure it won’t happen again.”
”…”
”No, there isn’t.”
”…”
”Too expensive. Yeah it sucks, I know, but what can you do? Prime the injector! Starting test Gamma-3, number thirty.”

The quest of the purple

Wrap

I sang a song I had not sung before
Beat right out of the deep black blue surrounding all
Upbeat tempos’s far from my deal
Waiting in the stillness so far from the expression that should be
I hope I sang loud enough for you to hear
Coming swiftly, down so low inside my heart
Spine’s tingling while the music dances on
Hearing shouts and thoughts said out way too loud
I could not bear to see the flame lick the wounds
While those dark black eyes smiles at me in cooling song
A memory fades along with dreams
Sleeping restlessly among the heaps I’ve made
Desperate enough to cry out like it would not be in vain
Singing songs I know must one day come in real
Endless streams of minds along the road ahead
Smiling, smiling, smiling so carelessly under the skins
Drifting and echoing songs I’ve never sang before

Wrap

Still

My back is turned towards the cliffs,

their ungainly depths a memory alone

of hellish stench and grievous wounds

In the dark I stand

tasting the cold

the icy winds remembering me

that I feel and am, alive just broken

The tiny light within my chest,

a steadfast glow creates around,

shines on nothing but sand and silence,

silence made from nothing.

Above me stars, dancing slightly

unguiding as the wind itself

yet pillars strong and dear

A tiny smile across my mind

breathe in, breathe out, heart slow and steady

alive yet still, fleeing yet waiting

And so I wait, and so I wait

for the dawn so true and wanting

minds eye seeing and longing

for the smell of lifes and works

Like a rock within, longing for growth and green and clouds above,

the only tear left in me

I spill for longing after the song

And still I wait, unmoving

And still I wait, deep breathing

And so I wait, endlessly wishing

That I could long for more

Still

Beep

The red glass built over the lamp is actually hand crafted by an old glass-blower. It is a work of art in itself, but neither of the men currently in the room knows that. Had they known they would not care. Earl would care, but he would not admit it. The glass is framed by a black ring made of excellent plastic: heat resistant and truly almost everlasting. It has not even started to shown signs of any kind of withering, even after all these years. Around the plastic frame there is cold steel. Simple, yet strong. You  have to kick it very hard before it will bend even slightly. Twenty centimeters above the red glass there is a text written on the steel: ”The Red Light” the text says. Compared to the glass and even the steel it is a very shoddy: lazily done by someone with a very, very lacking character, and he – because it most definitely is a he – has thick glasses and is probably of above average intelligence but of lower than average personality, which shows in his lazy handwriting, which is made thickly with a cheap marker. The man in question in Carl. Carl is a hunchback.

Some one hundred centimeters or so to the right of the red glass there is a ninety degree turn which is what marks the beginning of an adjoining wall. Literally the only thing of interest on that wall is a window – fifty times eighty centimeters, single glass – out of which one can only see a red brick wall of bad manufacture. The wall is five hundred and twenty centimeters long. Some one hundred and fifty centimeters above the red glass there is another as close to ninety degree turn as one can expect, marking the beginning of the roof. Some one hundred centimeters below the red light is the fourth eighty nine degree turn, marking the beginning of the floor. The roof is in excellent condition, the steel unspoiled by hands and even looks. There are three lights embedded in the roof, hidden behind smoked glass so as to provide a pleasant slightly brooding light. The hue is slighted towards brown. The steel floor is scratched and coffee-stained, most of which has been done to the poor floor by the heavy-set Earl. Earl has no real hair.

Some one hundred centimeters or so to the left of the red glass there is also an approximately ninety degree turn, which mark the beginning of the opposite adjoining wall. That wall has many interesting dials on it which measures many interesting things, the biggest being twenty centimeters across and the smallest being seven centimeters across. Sadly, the dials end after two hundred centimeters and makes room for a door. The door is made of two sheets of solid steel and is filled with concrete. It is a thick and heavy door, and it is ninety five centimeters wide and two hundred and ten centimeters high. The handle, which is shaped like a dragon eating a dog and is slightly to big for comfort is located on the far right side of the door. The hinges are of excellent manufacture so it is surprisingly easy to handle, unless one happens to be a small child which has been tested and found to be correct. Beyond the door continues the wall which now is of no interest for fifty centimeters or so until the desk starts which extends to the point when an adjoining wall appears in a ninety degree fashion. The desk if of plywood or poor manufacture, and it is really just a sheet of cheap plywood on four wooden pegs. On the wall facing the wall with the red glass which is the wall which Carl and Earl is facing there is a small radiator plugged into the extension cord which is connected to the single power outlet in the room which is located in the corner to the left of the door. On the miserable plywood sheet stands two computers on top of which stands two monitors in front of which sits Carl and Earl. Carl sits to the right of Earl and Earl sits to the right of Carl, which is the side closest to the door. They have chairs that swivels quite freely. The chairs are stuffed and soft but the stuffing in Earls chair has suffered from his increasing weight. There are two keyboards in front of the monitor, one of which currently is being used to plagiarize a tale of mystery and murder. The other keyboard is silent. Earl is sleeping.

”Beep.”

Carl turns swivels around in his chair and looks at the red glass under which the lamp is glowing thus shining a red light which Carl is now looking upon. Carl is sweating very slightly and his face puts on an annoyed look which is mostly made out of eyebrows. He swivels towards Earl, grabs his left shoulder and shakes him violently.

”Whahu?” says Earl sleepily. His red eyes, even redder than they even usually are, looks at Carl.
”The light is on.” says Carl, cooly, in control, so very much in control.
”Unnppffhble.” says Earl and swivels around to look at the red lamp beneath the red glass which he is admiring in secret. When his eyes has managed to focus on the light, he says. ”What?” He is slightly more awake than a few moments ago.
”The red light. It’s on.” says Carl and points at the red light. His control over what constitutes his own universe is still within his greasy grasp.
”So?” says Earl, dumbfounded.
”It’s on. It’s THE red light.” says Carl. He is not wearing the look of eyebrow annoyance but has unfortunately taken on an experimental look of helpfulness which also is made of eyebrows. His forehead is slightly moist with sweat-moist.
”I know it’s THE read light.” says Earl with a truly annoyed tone in his voice. His face has no way of expressing eyebrows, so he uses his pleasant baritone to convey his meanings instead. ”Haven’t you ever wondered what it’s for?”
”I have never wondered what is is for.” lied Carl as he did not want to seem interested to Earl as that would be a moral defeat one which Carl would not be able to accept even in his strangest dreams he is sometimes writing about when he is not plagiarizing murder-fiction. His eyebrows waggled slightly too hysterically even for the hair-lacking Earl.
”I just wonder what it does.” says Earl, ignoring Carls eyebrows and the moisture of his sweat-moist.
”It goes beep.” Carl smiles weakly which is something he has learned from his murder stories of murder and mystery. Earl scowls as well as an eyebrow-lacking man can.
”Funny.” he rumbles in the deepest register he has access to.
”Yes.” says Carl but ironically.
”Let’s go.” says Earl and rumbles up from his chair. He grasps the dragon-handle, pushes it down and swings the door open, outwards as it only goes, on its well-made, soundless hinges. He steps out in the corridor, and Carl follows him.

The door is at the end of a corridor about one hundred and ninety centimeters wide and two hundred and ten centimeters high. The walls, floor and roof are of an unknown material, but they are painted in a bright green color. The corridor is close to one hundred and fifty meters long, and every three meters there is a bright light which is taken and whose beam is narrow embedded in the roof.  The walls and roof is without fault except for the brown spot where Earl spilled some coffee some six months ago. The floor is quite badly scratched and the paint is peeling, revealing gray of an unknown matter. One lamp exactly halfway through the corridor is flickering. On the other side of the corridor is another heavy steel door of exactly the same design as the door at the other end of the corridor, but on the handles on this one the dog eats the dragon. Earl pushed down the dog-dragon handle and opens the door which also hinges on excellent, well-oiled hinges.

Inside there is a room which is an exact mirror of the room in which Earl and Carl works, with the only difference being the wall on which the red glass under which the lamp is hidden is located. The text, still as shoddy and character-destroying as in the room in which the red glass under which there is a lamp is located, reads: ”The Levers of the Red Light”. There are two levers, one being approximately thirty centimeters from the wall to the left of the levers and the other being approximately thirty centimeters from the wall to the right of the levers. Both levers are approximately one hundred centimeters from the approximately ninety degree turn which marks the floor and approximately one hundred fifty centimeters from the approximately ninety degree turn which marks the roof. The levers are of very solid make. They have a single bar – round and about fifty millimeters thick – made of stainless steel with a red knob on the end. The bars are thirty two centimeters long, the entire lever being thirty six centimeters long. The knobs look untouched, which they are not but not far from. They are pointing down. Earl walks to the one on the right side of the left one and Carl walks to the one on the left side of the right one. They look at each other with peculiarly blank faces.

”One, two, three, pull!” they both say and pull up the levers. After two seconds relays start to click inside the walls, and after ten seconds of furious clicking the levers sink down again. Earl and Carl look at each other, nods, and walks out of the room. Carl walks first, Earl follows him. When they reach the room with the red glass under which there is a lamp Carl sits down on his chair and Earl sinks down on his chair which makes a very sad noise. Carl looks at his screen, reading what he last wrote in his plagiarized mystery story with mystery and murder. Earl soon snores gently.

”Beep.”

Beep