Voice-over work for Christopher Lee
by Sparrow_splitter
Posted: 30 June 2004 Word Count: 235 |
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Content Warning
This piece and/or subsequent comments may contain strong language.
This piece and/or subsequent comments may contain strong language.
It was the dawn of time
and all through the house,
not a creature did stir,
not even Aphrodite aculeate.
A world of dreams,
not yet dreamt.
A ball of gas,
unravel a ball of gas.
Twilight to starlight,
still for an age
and then spewing out life
with industrial vigor
berating and belittling what came before.
Replicators, replicating
under their own steam replicating
Home grown talent
or intergalactic shit
from cosmic clouds.
Life was cheap then,
awash with ready made soup.
A bug the size of a fruit bat,
but none to smart
(No back bone,
that’s that cunts’ problem),
stabbed in the back
with Darwinian guile,
splendor,
violence,
left whimpering in the mist.
A Colossal turtle ambles along,
blathering despair
with its celtic tongue.
A filthy fish
with lungs dangling out
slithered and crawled
and generally moved about
One swamp to the next.
A million years or so,
plus 2000 ago
ago
A cave girl rearranges
her wooly mammoth thong
Her face fixed with a supercilious smile
as she disembowels some beast
ungrateful for that split chromosome
or simply unaware.
In the background
a jukebox plays
amid the sound of raucous laughter
and idle threats.
I stub out my cigarette
and finish my beer
which glows golden
under the dim lights
The pinnacle of human ingenuity,
civilization in a glass
or at least its beginnings.
And I think to myself
‘Is this it?’
and all through the house,
not a creature did stir,
not even Aphrodite aculeate.
A world of dreams,
not yet dreamt.
A ball of gas,
unravel a ball of gas.
Twilight to starlight,
still for an age
and then spewing out life
with industrial vigor
berating and belittling what came before.
Replicators, replicating
under their own steam replicating
Home grown talent
or intergalactic shit
from cosmic clouds.
Life was cheap then,
awash with ready made soup.
A bug the size of a fruit bat,
but none to smart
(No back bone,
that’s that cunts’ problem),
stabbed in the back
with Darwinian guile,
splendor,
violence,
left whimpering in the mist.
A Colossal turtle ambles along,
blathering despair
with its celtic tongue.
A filthy fish
with lungs dangling out
slithered and crawled
and generally moved about
One swamp to the next.
A million years or so,
plus 2000 ago
ago
A cave girl rearranges
her wooly mammoth thong
Her face fixed with a supercilious smile
as she disembowels some beast
ungrateful for that split chromosome
or simply unaware.
In the background
a jukebox plays
amid the sound of raucous laughter
and idle threats.
I stub out my cigarette
and finish my beer
which glows golden
under the dim lights
The pinnacle of human ingenuity,
civilization in a glass
or at least its beginnings.
And I think to myself
‘Is this it?’
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