Train-crash poetry, or rather, computer-crash.

Penknife had a story with 404 words in it, and that was enough to have me write god-awful poetry at one in the morning. A sestina that would cause my old poetry teacher to have a heart attack, it’s so bad. Read on if you like train crashes and a lot of repetition. 

Quoth the server…

Darkness.
Nothingness stretching from eternity to eternity.
Not darkness, sightless, soundless, endless.
Not light, a barrier stretching across the universe.
A blank, mocking with its very existence.
Drawing out all substance, leaving all empty.
Destroying all shape and life, all it so fiercely abhors.
Leaving nothing for which to hold out hope.

Endless.
All logic fights against its presence in the universe.
All sanity denies its existence.
All shape drawn away, leaving soundless darkness.
A blight on the face of all eternity.
A vacuum that nature abhors.
A defeat that dries out all hope.
A plague that leaves everything empty. 

Empty.
No start, no finish, all blank, all endless.
Light yet not, dark yet not darkness.
Reaching out in hope of finding a universe.
But the blight has no end, killing hope.
Swallowing up the life and substance it abhors.
In its hollow eternity.
It destroys all existence. 

Eternity.
No limits, it fills the entire universe.
No light, it blocks both it and darkness.
No sight, no sound within its blank white existence.
No sign of substance within it, white endless.
Nothingness swallowing all hope.
Nothing left but the blight all abhor.
Nothing but the hollow endless. 

Universe.
A desperate search ending up empty.
The blank wall mocks as you abhor.
Destroying your expectations is its existence.
Crushing within you all hope.
Searching for substance in its eternity.
In vain, all is blank, endless.
A glowing denial of light and darkness. 

Existence.
To reach so far and to end with no hope.
To struggle so far to be confronted by the endless.
To search so far only to meet what you most abhor.
The frustration of failure, the despairing darkness.
The end of denial, to find the goal lost for eternity.
The final obstacle, that cannot be overcome by the universe.
The target lost, left blank, hollow, empty. 

Abhors.
Eyes narrow at eternity.
Hands clench against the endless.
Struggling to find a way across its hollow universe.
The endless fight against darkness.
Finding something left so empty.
When it had held such hope.
Left at the end of its existence.

Hope.
For searching again for truth in its universe. 
For reaching across its substance, endless.
For willing to reach an end in its limitless eternity.
For brushing aside words both worn and empty.
But forcing it aside with your very existence.
But again, it mocks you with it’s darkness.

404, the words you abhor.

Train-crash poetry, or rather, computer-crash.

Penknife had a story with 404 words in it, and that was enough to have me write god-awful poetry at one in the morning. A sestina that would cause my old poetry teacher to have a heart attack, it’s so bad. Read on if you like train crashes and a lot of repetition. 

Quoth the server…

Darkness.
Nothingness stretching from eternity to eternity.
Not darkness, sightless, soundless, endless.
Not light, a barrier stretching across the universe.
A blank, mocking with its very existence.
Drawing out all substance, leaving all empty.
Destroying all shape and life, all it so fiercely abhors.
Leaving nothing for which to hold out hope.

Endless.
All logic fights against its presence in the universe.
All sanity denies its existence.
All shape drawn away, leaving soundless darkness.
A blight on the face of all eternity.
A vacuum that nature abhors.
A defeat that dries out all hope.
A plague that leaves everything empty. 

Empty.
No start, no finish, all blank, all endless.
Light yet not, dark yet not darkness.
Reaching out in hope of finding a universe.
But the blight has no end, killing hope.
Swallowing up the life and substance it abhors.
In its hollow eternity.
It destroys all existence. 

Eternity.
No limits, it fills the entire universe.
No light, it blocks both it and darkness.
No sight, no sound within its blank white existence.
No sign of substance within it, white endless.
Nothingness swallowing all hope.
Nothing left but the blight all abhor.
Nothing but the hollow endless. 

Universe.
A desperate search ending up empty.
The blank wall mocks as you abhor.
Destroying your expectations is its existence.
Crushing within you all hope.
Searching for substance in its eternity.
In vain, all is blank, endless.
A glowing denial of light and darkness. 

Existence.
To reach so far and to end with no hope.
To struggle so far to be confronted by the endless.
To search so far only to meet what you most abhor.
The frustration of failure, the despairing darkness.
The end of denial, to find the goal lost for eternity.
The final obstacle, that cannot be overcome by the universe.
The target lost, left blank, hollow, empty. 

Abhors.
Eyes narrow at eternity.
Hands clench against the endless.
Struggling to find a way across its hollow universe.
The endless fight against darkness.
Finding something left so empty.
When it had held such hope.
Left at the end of its existence.

Hope.
For searching again for truth in its universe. 
For reaching across its substance, endless.
For willing to reach an end in its limitless eternity.
For brushing aside words both worn and empty.
But forcing it aside with your very existence.
But again, it mocks you with it’s darkness.

404, the words you abhor.