Below are the 20 most recent journal entries recorded in evilrooster's LiveJournal:

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Friday, April 18th, 2008
4:44 pm	In the spirit of this, a few lines that may be familiar. Capt: A dozen years have pass'd since this took place, And all that time hath Parliament kept hid The secret of this world, till River here Unearth'd it from their minds.  They feared she knew. And right they were to dread, since many more Among the spinning worlds would know it too. And someone has to speak for those now dead. For divers reasons did you join my crew But all have come together to this place. I've in the past demanded much of you. Today I ask yet more; perhaps for all. For this I know, as I know anything: That they will try again.  Another world Will be the lab for this experiment. Or maybe they will sweep this landscape clean And in a year or ten attempt again. They'll swing back like the needle to the north To the belief that they can better men. And I hold not to that.  Here from this grave I will not run. I aim to misbehave. - o0o - Capt: There's more to flight than buttons, albatross, More to the pilot's role than charts and maps. You know the foremost rule of flying?  Aye, I know you do, since you know what I'll say Before I part my lips. Riv:                         I do, but yet I like to hear you say it nonetheless. Capt:  'Tis love.  Though you know all the math the 'verse Contains, if in the sky you take a ship unloved She'll shake you off as sure as worlds turn. Love keeps her in the air when she should fall And tells you that she hurts before she keens. It makes her home. Riv:                         The storm is getting worse. Capt: We will endure a while, till it disperse. Current Mood: clean of floor (65 Comments |Comment on this)
Monday, April 7th, 2008
9:14 pm	The argument less fraught In the spirit of one of the greatest xkcd cartoons of all, as given life by pnh: Two threads diverged in a blog comment, And sorry I could not argue both And be one advocate, on I went Researching one, and all that it meant Unto the limits of its growth; Then fought the other, just as keen And having perhaps the better claim Because it had less buzzword-sheen; Though as for that, 'twas just as mean, With obfuscation much the same. And both held promise of delight With comments not yet answered back. Oh, I marked the first for another night! Yet knowing how fight leads on to fight I doubted if I should ever come back. I shall be blogging this with a sigh Someday ages and ages hence: Two threads diverged in a blog, and I, I took the one less comment-shy And that has made all the difference. Current Mood: barefoot (7 Comments |Comment on this)
Tuesday, March 4th, 2008
9:43 pm	We Nine Trilobites tnh pointed me (and the rest of the net) to a page on the nine orders of trilobites: http://www.fossilmuseum.net/Tree_of_Life/PhylumArthropoda/ClassTrilobita.htm It's a great page, and leads to some good clicktrance.  But it made me think of "We Three Kings of Orient Are".  And once I'd thought of it, of course, I had to write it.  (Sleep being, of course, something that happens to Other People) Trilobites from the Cambrian stone Evolution glorious shown: Adaptations, variations On their ancestors unknown. O fossil record, long preserved Ancient hist'ry still conserved Stone from sand made, nine of their clade Now are classed from forms observed. Ancient Agnostida you find Primitive, and many are blind Head like butt, thus isopygous (Greek is much less unkind!) Redlichiida's thoracic spines Form distinctive parallel lines Micropygus, eyes a big plus. Order that the head defines. Varied trilobites could conform To Ptychopariidanic form. Long surviving, widely thriving Giving them time to transform. Corynexochida descends And from Redlichiida's form bends: Glabella clavate, bum a tad great Pointiest at their back ends. Many trilobites spread their spines Few, however managed the lines Of Lichida, lacy leader: Order that's dressed to the nines. Asaphids, effacéd, could glide Or perhaps in sediment hide. Distinctive sutures but no futures The order still, like others, died. Lasting till the Permian age Proetida, ultimate stage. Small, with spineless tail behind, this Order turned the final page. Semi-circle or ovate brimmed Rostral plate by ages' change trimmed. Ptychopariida had Harpetida But was by an order slimmed. Spineless trilobites, a surprise! What that in prehistory lies Could but see the Phacopida As they saw with compound eyes. Worlds change, adapt if you can. As with trilobites so with man? Global warming, new plagues forming May we run as long as they ran. O fossil record, long preserve All our hist'ry, and conserve Stone from sand made, what of our clade Will be known, and who'll observe? The scansion gets a bit ragged on the last lines; I was kinda punchy by the time I finished it.  But it was fun; how many times do you get to rhyme "Head like butt, thus" with "isopygous" in one lifetime, after all? (2 Comments |Comment on this)
Thursday, October 11th, 2007
1:23 am	Hoarding Fire The forest fires burn hotter But campfire coals are richer Till quenched by sand and water From fire-pail and pitcher. The lust for human glimmer Made all I had seem lightless. My hoarded fires burned dimmer In contrast to Man's brightness. To feed my need for fires I left my mountain fastness. A gleam like flaming pyres Entranced me through the vastness. Beyond my wooded valley I saw a light, bright-burning I made a winging sally Emboldened by my yearning. The roads were rich with red lights Like coals they shone. I craved them Yet brighter glowed the headlights. I burned to keep, to save them. But other sparkles drew me As bees are drawn to flowers. For I could, as I flew, see The neon-shining towers. I found a roof and landed Where shadows would surround me. My hidden perch commanded A view of all around me. And what I saw amazed me When peering through the windows. What did men as they gazed see In panels with their dim glows? I stayed awhile and learned from The humans with their bright things. I heard of "cash", and earned some, Enough to buy the right things. For in the nights, while dreaming, I knew that I must go back. My hidden fires, still gleaming, Without my care would go black. Returning to my treasures Within the mountains lightless I rediscovered pleasures Outwith electric brightness. The embers glowed more redly The fires had brighter spark The lightning looked more deadly Against a forest's dark. But still I miss the cities That glisten, gleam and shine With countless coloured pretties All crying to be mine. But Wi-fi goes a long way, And now my laptop's working. I buy my lights on eBay, And on this blog I'm lurking. Originally posted on Making Light. (Comment on this)
Tuesday, October 9th, 2007
1:21 am	So maybe we're not dragons The elder dragon stirs atop his hoard And wakens, stretching out his scaly wings, Rejoicing in the state of having things: Possessions are, for him, their own reward. He tallies up his silver and his gold, Recalls the provenance of every gem, But never feels the need to alter them: He wasn't born to make, but just to hold. But we are not the same: we crave the new. We strive to tell, to write, to sing, to build Until the space around us is all filled And still we carry on. It's what we do. But even we, when overwhelmed with stuff, Must tidy up at times. Enough's enough! Originally posted on Making Light. (Comment on this)
Thursday, September 27th, 2007
1:15 am	The Dragons Vanished First The dragons vanished first, one day at dawn, A close-packed mass of wings and teeth and tails That voicelessly, just rustling its scales, Crouched, launched itself, and in a flash, was gone. The gryphons, barren since the hatchling blight Around the eggless phoenix gathered near. So when it flamed, they too began to sear, Then sprang aloft and burned to ash midflight. The dryads withered, and their trees fell down; The unicorns their pearly horns all shed; Beneath the autumn leaves curled pixies, dead; And undines taught the naiads how to drown. You humans mapped the world, despite the cost: That you be found, the rest of us are lost. Originally posted on Making Light. (2 Comments |Comment on this)
1:12 am	Here Be Dragons? The map said "Here be dragons" on the edge, Beyond the farthest land, in open sea. It seemed a little strange, at least to me: Where did they build their nests? I like a ledge, Some rocky outcrop on which I can sleep, And hoard my gold, and dream up riddling quips For jewel-thieves. I don't need much: just tips Of stone between me and the chilly deep. But I need dragons, too. I've been alone For centuries. I want to rut, to breed, To see my hatchlings on the wing. I need A dragoness more than I need warm stone. I searched for days, but all I found was sea. Yet still the map is right, for here be me. Originally posted on Making Light. (Comment on this)
Monday, September 10th, 2007
1:08 am	Serge's birthday poem The first September week was barely past When he was born. The way the seasons change Is catching, so perhaps it is not strange That his first tongue and nation weren't his last. But though a tree may shed its autumn leaves And be reclad in spring, the trunk remains. And so it is with Serge, who still retains The core of whom he loves, what he believes. Beneath the puns, behind the clever prose, Between the lines of sly pastiche, I see The way he cares for this community And value all the warmth his manner shows. So happy birthday, Serge, although I'm late (I knew the month, but just mislaid the date!) A belated birthday sonnet for serge_lj, originally posted on Making Light. (Comment on this)
1:03 am	Hindenberg Zombies Above the thunder-clouds it hovers high, Its skeletal ribs lit by lightning storms, While rags of fabric trail in ghostly forms: A revenant adrift in endless sky. Below, the well-lit modern planes pass by, And unaware, they brush its tentacles, Old mooring-cables, trailing manacles With which it trawls for aircraft as they fly. And when it catches something in its snare, It feasts on wires and microchips inside While humans, just detritus flung aside, Plunge screaming downward through the icy air. Beware the king of airships; fear his chains. The Hindenberg is feeding on jet planes. Originally posted on Making Light, based on an image from Diatryma. (Comment on this)
Sunday, September 9th, 2007
1:00 am	Zombies on a Jet Plane All you brains are ours Though you don't know We're shambling here along the aisle Our clothing ragged, marked with stinking stains. And the dawn is breaking Above the cloud The pilot's seen us And screamed aloud Already we're so hungry We want brains So scream now and try to flee See the things you shouldn't see Hide somewhere you think you can defend Cause we're zombies, on a jet plane Don't think that you'll be safe again. You'll die before the end. There will be times you think you'll win The door is locked. They can't get in. I tell you now that it won't hold for long Every time you run, we'll follow you Every place you hide, we'll come for you When we break through, you'll know your hopes were wrong. So scream now and try to flee See the things you shouldn't see Hide somewhere you think you can defend Cause we're zombies, on a jet plane Don't think that you'll be safe again. You'll die before the end. Now the time has come to kill you One more time Let us bite you Then close your eyes We will eat your brain Now you stir; you're one of us. So tell your fellow passengers Their screaming and their struggles are in vain. They scream now and try to flee See the things they shouldn't see Hide somewhere they think they can defend But we're zombies, on a jet plane Don't think that they'll be safe again. They'll die before the end. Originally posted on Making Light. (Comment on this)
Wednesday, September 5th, 2007
12:57 am	The Sea-Coast if Innsmouth I will arise and go now, and go to Innsmouth And a small altar make there, of bones and bodies built; Nine gravestones will I have there, a gibbet facing south, And live alone but for those I've killed. And I shall have no peace there, for They come creeping slow, Creeping from the veils of the morning to where the raven caws; There midnight's all a-glimmer, and noon an eerie glow, And evening full of the Deep Ones' claws. I will arise and go now, for always night and day I hear the water lapping with low sounds by the shore; While I stand on the roadway, or on the pavement sgrey, I hear it in the deep heart's core. Originally posted on Making Light. (Comment on this)
Tuesday, September 4th, 2007
12:54 am	On starting an endeavor The first days with the flaming sword, I swore I'd break my arms, or burn my fingertips. My palms were blistered. Skin came off in strips. At sunset I'd be weary to the core. And now I can, with joyful spirit, tell How when my widespread wings were newly fledged I lost control, and ended my flight wedged Inside a cliffside crack (from which I fell!) In time I learned to better wield my sword And not set light to quite so many trees. I fly for days on end with grace and ease. And doing these things well, I please the LORD. (But I confess - His pleasure's just a part Of my delight in mastering my art.) Written for tnhat the beginning of her new job, and posted on Making Light. (Comment on this)
Sunday, September 2nd, 2007
12:48 am	The spirit of Xopher inhabits us all The ti bon ange wakes and sips its tea. The day awaits, the curled-up sleeping man Lies ready to inhabit, so it can In all he does, express divinity. In cyberspace, the greater angel stirs And spreads its bit-fledged wings, extending far Beyond a body's reach. The shining star Of Coming Light unfallen, it confers Upon its willing agents powers thus: The well-wrought pun, the gentle quip, The tactful hint, the jest whose pointed tip Is yet unbarbed. And so it graces us. O Xopher's angel twins, the great and small, Come comment here, enlightening us all! Written to embarrass xopher_vh on Making Light. (Comment on this)
Thursday, August 23rd, 2007
12:42 am	Your books love it when you use them You pull me from your shelves and lay me out: My spine against the sun-warmed tabletop My leather covers let to gently drop, My coloured endsheets falling all about. O straighten them, I beg of you, be quick! Then spread my blank and creamy pages wide And with an inky pen inscribe inside Your formulae in lines both thin and thick. The paper shivering as it receives The graphs you draw on it. You fill my soul, And still you write, until the proof is whole, Then press your knowledge tight between my leaves. You have your fleshy pleasures, but I find I'd rather far be ravished by your mind. Originally posted to Making Light. (Comment on this)
Wednesday, August 22nd, 2007
12:39 am	Elise birthday poem A single strand of silver wire entwines Among the gems and beads, and twists around The finest one, a secret treasure found Among the curves like fruit among the vines. And when the gem is lost, the shining wire Preserves intact its shape, its outs and ins The places where it widens, where it thins, Reflecting, still, an echo of its fire. How painful for the wire to now enclose An emptiness, a hollow in its heart. And yet the hole is just one balanced part Of fine-wrought silverwork. And still it grows And shapes the gulf into its graceful whole: A necklace and a Lioness's soul. Written for elisem, originally posted on Making Light. (Comment on this)
Tuesday, August 21st, 2007
12:36 am	How doth the bubbling Yog-Sothoth How doth the bubbling Yog-Sothoth Improve its protoplasm, And drink the bloody spuming froth From thy last dying spasm! How maddening its lights appear How dread its pseudopods As all who watch are taught to fear The mighty Outer Gods! Originally posted on Making Light. (Comment on this)
12:26 am	Pooh meets Tolkien meets Cthulhu (Eeyore wins) Deep in the Hundred Acre Wood Where all that happens is for good, Where Roo still plays on sunny days. Pooh and friends once desperate stood. The Bear of Little Brain then dwelled Where honey with a U is spelled Among the trees and bumble bees And hero parties oft were held. With Piglet trembling close beside He roamed the forest, far and wide, Where Heffalumps and Tigger jumps Would make our heroes run and hide. While in the background Rabbit fussed And griped and (sotto voce) cussed As Pooh was stuck and then unstuck Uncured of his great hunny-lust. The haycorns grew in sunlit dells While daffodils and silver bells On riverside did thick abide And perfumed with ambrosial smells. But deep within the river crept A darker force, its anger kept In check by him who, visage grim, His watch maintained while others slept. Until a game of Pooh-sticks played Upon a new bridge in the shade. When Eeyore won, his guard undone Released the thing from where it stayed. The cloud that crossed the sun that noon Was not a bear on a balloon. The darkness spread, and with it, dread That reckoning was coming soon. The grass grew withered, turning grey. The river whipped up icy spray And in the trees the honey bees Mysteriously slipped away. As ruin of their home they faced Our heroes in their centre placed Small frightened Roo, and Piglet too While breath grew short and pulses raced. And at the shore they made their stand Between the water and the land As eye met eye they knew they'd die And with their blood stain red the sand. Upon the bridge brave Rabbit hopped The shadows rose and overtopped The parapet.  Old Long-ears met And stopped the dark, then lifeless dropped. Then for his dead friend Tigger howled And in response, the forest growled Thence came a beast, like Death released And Rabbit's lifeless corpse befouled. The tiger bounced then, gold and red And from him darkness briefly fled But the black struck swiftly back And left him broken, beaten, dead. Above the heroes rose a bird By Tigger's death to courage spurred. No longer meek, with claw and beak Old Owl fought (without a word!) Then Christopher Robin turned And saw the river once more churned With foul mud and Rabbit's blood As revenant, their friend returned. At that their blood froze in their veins. Abandoning their meagre gains They huddled in, while with a grin The zombie rodent sought their brains. And as they stood in trembling row And watched the beast they used to know He reached right through and seized on Roo. And though they fought he'd not let go. He pulled his tiny captive through Their hopeless clutches and withdrew His prey, held tight, soon ceased to fight And then, "Oh, bother!" exclaimed Pooh. And at that sound the noises ceased As friend and foe and eldrich beast Turned in awe, and wond'ring, saw The Might of Pooh at last released. A gentle humming sound he made And through the grass began to wade And all he touched unclenched, unclutched As he spread peace throughout the glade. With Kanga weeping in his wake His way to Rabbit did he make. The foul hare, with yellow stare In unclean voice then harshly spake. "You rob me of my prey, then, Pooh? Three friends for one I'll trade to you If I can choose the one you lose I'll end it now, bear.  What say you?" The rabbit's eyes then opened wide And met with Eeyore by Pooh's side. His voice was grim.  "I choose him And will not lightly be denied." Pooh turned and peered then at his friend "I want this Unpleasantness to End But what to do?  I can't lose you." "It's OK," said Eeyore.  "I'll mend." "Oh, not from this," the monster smiled And Eeyore's fur with slime defiled. As Rabbit healed there stood revealed A tangled shadow, dark and wild. It caught up Eeyore in its night And he succumbed without a fight While at his side his friends all cried And darkness howled in grim delight. Then in the sunlight played small Roo While from the beach bounced Tigger too. And Rabbit, dazed, in horror gazed At hands still smeared with foul goo. The donkey lay upon the hill While darkness worked its foul will. The friends he saved watched him, enslaved And vigil kept as he lay still. First he grew sqamous, then rugose His skin drew tight and wrapped him close Instead of hair grew tendrils bare In writhing, twisting, twining rows. But then he moved, and raised his head. "I see that I'm not really dead. I should have guessed I'd get no rest. How typical," the donkey said. In time the rot seemed to reverse. And Eeyore lived despite the curse. "These psuedopods and Elder Gods Are not so bad.  It could be worse." (10 Comments |Comment on this)
Monday, August 20th, 2007
12:33 am	Stopping By Woods on a Scary Evening Whose woods these are I think I know His house is in the village though. He will not see me stopping by To watch his woods fill up with snow. My little horse gives out a cry As, trembling, he wonders why We stop and eye the darkened lake Whose foul odours make him shy. He gives his harness bells a shake Which proves to be a grave mistake As from the water dark things creep To drag our wagon toward the lake. The woods are dreadful, dark and deep And as he screams, and as I weep, We rue we woke them from their sleep, We rue we woke them from their sleep. Originally posted on Making Light. (Comment on this)
Tuesday, June 5th, 2007
12:30 am	Catullus and Sappho, turning in their graves lolcat n lolcat++ is in ur prezentz watchin u play, heerin u purr. i can has sense? o noes! sintz i sees u noe kitteh is u++. noe meow left, fur al on end, pointy earz ringin, green eyes clozin. im in my sunbeamz dreamin of u makin me worse lik ded katz befor. Pastiche of a Catullus translation of a Sappho poem.  Originally posted in the Making Light LOLCats thread. (Comment on this)
Monday, June 4th, 2007
12:26 am	Teh Dai Teh Saucerz Kame > I CAN HAS   u can has saucerz fallin lik sno bringin u futur no1 kno what   > NTHX > I CAN HAS   u can has zombiez shamblin about smellin lik deth and rotn dekay they can has brains?   > NTHX > I CAN HAS   u can has godz bigger than big thingz fitin the giantz n serpent n wolf   > NTHX > I CAN HAS   u can has fery talez lvs n spiritz u can has bootz play ur part   > NTHX > I CAN HAS   u can has NEthing citiez like glass skynet aliv angels n devils humanz be hearin u talk timlords n yeti   > NTHX > I CAN HAS PHONE CAL?       > I CAN HAS PHONE CAL?       > I CAN HAS PHONE CAL?   LOLCats version of Neil Gaiman's The Day the Saucers Came, originally posted on the Making Light LOLCats thread. (Comment on this)