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.

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.

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?

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

> 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.

Bngli: i can has dance?
J4N3: k
l12: i can has dance too?
DarC: no u ugly go way
l12: LOLz
Bngli: BRB

MrC0lnz: l12 i can has heart?
l12: no gway
Chrltt: u can has me
MrC0lnz: K BRB

Wikm: IM IN UR TOWN SEDUCIN UR DAUTERS
lyd14: o hai

DarC: i can has heart?
l12: no gway u rude

l12: IM IN UR PEMBERLEY ADMIRIN UR STUFF
DarC: hai
l12: OMG thought u were AFK!!1!

J4N3: OMG lyd14 & Wikm BFF
l12: WTF?
lyd14: i can has Wikm, k?
Wikm: i can has $$$? LOL
DarC: k

Bngli: hai, back. i can has heart?
J4N3: k lol
DarC: back
l12: thx 4 ur help
DarC: i can has heart?
l12: k lol

A pastiche of Pride and Prejudice, originally posted in the Making Light LOLcats thread.

Beneath the mountains, white with snow,
The orcs about their business go
Their orders to maintain below,
In the depths of Khazad-dûm,
A sleeping evil, left to lie
Until required by the Eye.
They care for it and ask not why
They toil in the gloom.

But one who labours in its lair
Has found the Balrog in his care
To be—to orcish senses—fair.
Fires burn in Khazad-dûm
And warm the darkness of the deeps
While he his tender vigil keeps.
His charge, protected, deeply sleeps
Inside its rocky tomb.

The other orcs, freed from its side,
Have different tasks, their might applied
To warlike training, side on side.
Underneath deep Khazad-dûm
The caverns echo with their song
While artificers labour long
To forge them armour, thick and strong,
For when the wars resume.

The flames beneath Caradhras burn
While up above, the seasons turn
Until, in time, the dwarves return.
Plundering rich Khazad-dûm.
At first they linger at the top
Above the yawning chasm's drop
But then they dig, and do not stop
And thereby seal their doom.

They fill their halls with men and elves
And carve great rooms to please themselves
While underneath, a miner delves
Far too deep in Khazad-dûm.
The orc at practice stops his blow
As pickaxe noises grow and grow.
And then to muster-points they go
Lest dwarves their charge exhume.

The beaters start to pound their drums
So from the deeps the great sound comes
And in each chest, the breastbone thrums
Roaring out "O Khazad-dûm".
They rush into the glaring light
And, overwhelming with their might
The feasting dwarves, restore the night,
And then their work resume.

The battle in the past belongs:
Another chapter in their songs
Of dwarven deaths and ancient wrongs.
Deep in shadowed Khazad-dûm
The Balrog shifts its mighty frame
At dreams of swords, and fear, and flame.
Its keeper strokes it, rasps its name,
And turns to leave its room.

But then, a sound. A single stone
Comes clattering from where it's thrown
Into a well, and this alone
Rouses all of Khazad-dûm.
And as the drummers beat and pound
The battle-rhythm shakes the ground.
The orcs come swarming all around
To Balin's stony tomb.

Then, in its room, the sleeper wakes
And with one blow, its prison breaks.
So from the depths, its coming shakes
All the stones of Khazad-dûm.
It sees the fleeing figures hide
And casts its shadows far and wide
Like wings unfurled from either side
To smother them in gloom.

And then he comes, as from its dreams:
A bearded figure whose sword gleams
With silver light. Its lancing beams
Bringing day to Khazad-dûm.
The Balrog roars with blinded eyes.
The grey-robed form its way denies:
"You shall not pass," the wizard cries.
And still the drumbeats boom.

They struggle then, the swordsman small
Against his foe, but brave withal.
He strikes the Balrog, and they fall
Into deepest Khazad-dûm.
The fighters plunging, dark and bright,
Leave eight companions, put to flight,
To scramble upward, to the light
And, grieved, their quest resume.

Behind them, howling hordes surround
The broken bridge, while all around
From depths to heights the battles sound
Echoing through Khazad-dûm.
They clash their blades and stamp their feet
And roar defiance and defeat
At enemies they cannot meet,
Then silence fills the gloom.

But one orc gives a keening call:
He somehow sees the Balrog's fall.
And terror comes upon them all
Standing massed in Khazad-dûm.
The wizard is of no concern,
But should the Dark Lord come to learn
Their charge is dead, then they will burn.
The Eye will be their doom.

And so the orcs depart the mines.
At night, when only moonlight shines
They march away in scattered lines
Fleeing from black Khazad-dûm.
While in the lonely, lightless deeps
The Balrog-keeper howls and weeps
Then in the depthless chasm leaps
In empty Khazad-dûm.


Originally posted on Making Light, this is based on Tennyson's The Lady of Shallott  

Three trolls for the cooking threads, tasting of pie
Seven for the short threads, whose ends are unknown
Nine for the politics, which never die
One for the weblog, as it has grown
In the land of Yorkshire, where the posters lie.
One Troll to steer them all,
One Troll to mock them
One Troll to sneer at all
And in their puppets sock them.
In the land of Yorkshire, where the posters lie.

Originally posted on Making Light, at a time when the work York was closely associated with trollery.