Submissions by MichaelHart

A frail figure of a different time, quietly rested in a rickety chair. If only the porch beneath his feet could tell tales of the past, now only ever left with just an audience of one. The old man was as still and colourless as the sullen oak trees in a bitter winter, just as aged and as much forgotten. He sat in silence and sunk into the few remaining remnants of dreams, dreams of a different time. His time. Where the walls where a few shades brighter, his faded smile a few shades lighter. Once, he was a younger man of charisma and character, always a man gentle nature. Now all that remained...

A world elevated beyond segregation,
But laced with scapegoats and deviation.
Posters of propaganda and endless terrors,
Broken promises of mending errors.
The trembling hands of a working man,
Like a wing clipped bird of a corporate aviary,
Too worn to fight, too torn for flight,
Another victim of glorified slavery.
But a rising rumble cries from within,
he hungers for the thunder of terror,
As we all claw for something to fear,
A horrible need for a horror to hear.
Screaming machinery tearing desolate lands,
Shattered countries savaged...

Do you remember when the nightmare began?
When humanity watched it's own reflection blink?
The monster wasn't under our beds, or in our closets.
It was much closer. But we felt safe. Unstoppable.
It was always within our shell of desire to create,
But with it came destruction, as is the natural order of things.
Day follows night as life follows death,
But man became machine, and it all turned to hell.
Creation and destruction purged their rot,
Intertwining and becoming only damnation.
We lived in graveyards with the audacity to call them cities,
We...