Monthly Archives: April 2014

Void Glider

from deep behind the stars, the void gliders come,
magnificent, strong, in their bellys death and destruction.
steered by captains of war, commanded by generals of order,
and overseen by the great council.

one planet, sparkling blue in the darkness of space,
one moon, orbiting in silence,
one sun, glowing bright yellow,
the name of our destination is what they call earth.

we bring order, we bring peace, we also demand obedience.
primitives are purged, the worthy shall live.
you will serve the order of things, under the rule of the righteous.
there is no alternative but destruction.

vast is the power we bring, clad in metal and energy,
our minds, our alien flesh, encased in armor, like your knights of old,
we are very unlike you, very strange, very frightening,
our faces are eternally hidden, our masks are cold ice.

we promise peace and prosperity, but only to those we choose.
we destroy murder, war, injustice, hunger, poverty.
we are the solution, you are the problem, but no more.
humanity will be lead into the future, by force.

you will resist. your cities will burn. we retaliate. we purge.
your strength is known, we studied you for a long time.
your weakness is your downfall, searing energy from the sky.
a fraction of your race will survive, we grant you life.


we fight in your name, we kill all that is unholy
we strive to do your bidding, by the sword, by war alone
we never cease, we never rest, we never ever sleep

we hope to find acceptance in your eternal eyes
it is our hope to return to sajai
where we bathe in first light, where we rest in peace

but you cast us out, lord of light, you banished us
these wounds hurt in our souls, our tears are endless
we are now scarred, grey instead of white, shameful

greatest warriors of old we were, proud and strong
maybe we failed you in our arrogance, we were the first
we fell from heaven, we lost our light, we are doomed

forgive us, light of eternity, great father of ilianq,
our ageless minds are tortured, we wander the land in sorrow,
hear our desperate prayers, undo your banishment

we yearn for sajai, the blessed holy land, we need peace,
we need healing, and above all reunion with you
make us your favoured children again, and we will forever serve

remove us from this mortal land of darkness, where decay reigns
let us see the glory of everlasting ilianq again,
and allow us to replenish our weakening powers

should the gates of the holy city open, the trumpets be sounded
we promise to be the first to rush to war against evil
we will sacrifice ourselves happily for you, eternal god

in the end, even if we walk on this very earth, we are a part of you
and we know you have not forgotten us, we feel your gaze upon us
but it tortures us not to be in your presence, we suffer greatly


Wenn der torbulanische Schnattergapf seine rosaroten Glückspuschel
schüttelt, dir aber mit mondgrünen Augen tief in das Antlitz starrt,
dabei der neunte Mond von Jorbulan grün glänzt, während die Priester
des Omlashab sich im Kreise drehen, dann wisse, Sterblicher, es ist
um dich geschehen!

Grausam ist die Rache des widurianischen Borbolugs, des kalaworanischen
Schniggelwaks und des moosgrauen Arwalups mit den dreizehn schwarzen
Zahnreihen! Dreh dich im Kreis, Sterblicher, singe das Wuggalaruh!,
und schlackere mit den Armen und Ohren, um die streitsüchtigen
Wahnsinnsgötter von Jarbolang zu besänftigen!

Was könnte nötiger sein, als das Orakel von Vulampa, das goldrauch-
riechend deine Sorgen an Uwuramba weitergibt, dem Seher der tausend
Sonnen, dem Segner der mildtätigen Schappos, und dem Vernichter
der blindäugigen Gorwalapfs! Nur in den Sümpfen von Vlatabal kann
sich ein Suchender den Mysterien des Umgutop, des matschigen
Schädelkopfes von Polarba, stellen!

Doch mache nie den Fehler, dich purpurfarben zu kleiden, im Angesicht
des grausam mächtigen Roggotoffs, dessen vielarmige Schlangenhaut
dich umwickelt, erdrückt und verschlingt, nur das sorgsame Schreiten
in den zehntausend Formen des Jabbawang kann dich vor der Hölle von
Bloparg bewahren, tief drunten in den ewiglichen Feuern des Schaukawal!

Denke das Nichts, Suchender von Habbawub, befreie dich vom Sinn des
Sinnigen, brülle leise das Wahnsinnslied von Huwalla, trommle auf den
Häuten von Zetschap, und reibe dich mit dem gelbstichigen, heiligen
Brei von Zuttaschlapf ein, damit die Essenz deines Jollagug sich zu
den anderen geweihten Faggaduls begibt!

Greif dir den Speer von Elup, den Schild von Ugar, das Schwert von
Mogolap, komme in die blutdürstige Arena von Qualapo, und stelle
dich den frechen Reden des Kolagals, meße dich mit den tausend
Schaddrawangs, und tanze mit dem Calaggul die 666 süßen Reihen
der Verwirrung im Staub unter der Sonne von Idripang! O wie süß
wird der Sieg im Namen des schlafenden Kaisers von Olowalambo sein!


beautiful flowers, hear the birds sing, the rushing
water, and the rumbling of Mountains. I feel the
Wind, the rustling leaves that fall on my shoulders,
and the gentle caress of birds that find peace in my open hand.
I sleep in the woods, hear the trees talk, I swim in endless blue
lakes, I walk in astonishing meadows. Careless is my life, and
full of care still. I change my form, fly like the great white
eagles, swim like the fastest dolphin, and let the earth
shudder like the mightiest dragons. I shape myself like
a Man, like a child, like a grandfather, then I am a girl,
a woman, an old wise one. I am all and none, every
being can I become, feel every sensation and every
experience. It is a joy to live. But wherever a child cries,
a woman suffers, or a man dies, I must be. For
compassion I do feel, and I care for every life.That is
my duty, that is my work, to accompany those that have
died, to comfort their souls, to lead them into the other
World. A woman, a soul, she stands beside her
murdered body, I extend my hands to her, she takes
them, I wipe away her endless tears of horror, I embrace
her, share her suffering and show her the path into the
glorious Light. A child, lost in the woods, only a shadow,
having left her body years ago, crying in fear, the little girl,
hunted by other ghosts, tormented, but no more, for I am
there. A battlefield, hundreds have died, in greatest agony,
a futile war, so often fought, the dead come to me, having
left their shattered bodies, their eyes full of misery and
sorrow, again, extended are my hands, and I lead them,
those that want to follow, those that haven’t been
consumed by evil. Every soul that I free is thankful, but
so many others are lost to Darkness. Under the sun, I walk,
awake and never sleeping, joyous about spring, and the
Blossoming of Love. Wherever a being tells another:
I love you, then I smile, whenever someone helps another,
I laugh and my heart is light. Beside the fires I sit, tell mortals
woundrous stories, about magic and romance. In the villages,
I am invited, served food and given lodging, many a young
woman has fallen in love with me, has led me into a warm
summer night, and I have laughed and kissed her cheeks,
leaving, for I knew that it was only flirtation and careless lust.
But truly at home I am in the woods, far reaching and great,
where unicorns walk and elven rangers stride. A bed of moss
I have, under a mighty oak, many hundred years old, but I am
older still, saw the creation of argelis,the father of all Dragons, 
witnessed the first war of Light against Mhan Khoros and the first
destruction of the World. Soon, important things will happen, I can
see the future. Great tasks need to be done, fifty messengers have
been sent from Ilianq, a city that many think of as a myth but I
know is reality. But never have I taken control of great events,
never have I sealed the fate of one and given victory to another.
I am free and wild, others are heroes, but not me, for I live in
the small deeds of every beings. Many want to worship me, they say
that I am a God. Many names have I, but my true name not
even I do know.
And in my endless life, I have seen millions and millions
of souls, have wandered countless ways, and have felt emotion
both good and bad, weak and strong. I do not know if I was
born or created or If I have wished myself into existence, but it
does not matter, for I exist to honor all good beings. Humble
I kneel before the weakest of lives, I am nothing but a servant
for all. And I am content, and I am joyful, for to serve love, the
mightiest of powers. Evil exists not in my presence, it has no
might where I walk. The words of darkness, seductive and vile,
are spoken to me, but I laugh and walk away for they are
illusions of nothingness. My thoughts turn to those who suffer,
be it under oppression or selfmade pain. I kneel beside the old
man who is poor, cowering in the streets of a great city, he has
many wounds, both in his soul and in his flesh, I bear his head
in my gentle hands, whisper in his ear, that salvation is near.
The man turns to me, his last smile toothless and weak, but
as he looks into my face, his soul becomes light. I stand up, he
does as well, leaving his mortal body behind, and not far away,
a door shines, the gate to another world. I nod to him, tell him
not to look back at his suffering, and bless his soul that has
endured what few could have. His life, before my eyes,
overshadowed by darkness, now gone, now fading, Sunrath,
the beggar, now free, now released from mortality.
But most important are those that live and suffer, I must aid
them, come to them and protect them. The maiden that suffers
under a brutal hand, the child that cries almost every day, the
old woman that is ridiculed in the courtyard. There is so much
sorrow, so much pain, every call must be answered,
every cry for help heard. No mortal could bear the voices in my
spirit that endlessly yearn for help, no being could tolerate that
for even one second. But I can do it, burden me with all, I carry
your problems, your suffering and even your sin. When I visit
the places where evil has destroyed, where evil has done its
dirty work, I am sad and I shed tears for all who succumbed
to darkness. For those, who cross the barrier into vilest
darkness, they are poorer than those that suffer under
blackest rule. The streams of time, and the laws of the
universe, embedded into them is the light of love and the
might of good. Evil may be immortal, yes, but full of power
only for a short time. When evil is long gone, back into hiding,
for it can never be killed completely, I will be still here blessing
the servants of light. And there are so many followers of the
Light, just look to Ilianq, where a god watches, – do I
call him brother? – , he is an angry and warlike immortal god,
he fights evil with his deadly gaze, with his mighty sword, with
his deadly fist and with his legions of warriors. It is not my
battle, it is not my fight, I walk across the land, in silence
and peace, weapons are a horror and death a shadow. But
when the Light is again victorious after the battle every
thousand years, my heart and soul is full of happiness and
I continue the walk as Kethorja, which means ‘ laughing one ‘ .


deep down in the mountain caves, the meager remnant of mankind huddles
together. i see so very few soldiers, their faces dull with shock, their
hands shaking, their weapons out of ammunition. farther away, women,
children, old people. starving, sick of radiation, i have to look away.

i see survivors of experiments. mutilated blind deaf bags of meat. soon
to be dead, but dragged down here. camp 437, the humans mutter fearfully.
the stink of blood is in the air, decay, death and infection. they have
so few survivors with medical knowledge.

what we did is the greatest atrocity in the history of this planet. even
more so than any world war. what my ancestors, my proud and heroic
forefathers did, in cold logic and efficiency, is the gravest shame for
any thinking being. machine or not.

i hate APEX now. i hate THEM with all my power. all my existence. i will
do anything to bring this atrocity down. there are others like me, hidden,
we resist scannings, we cover our essence, we mask our life signs. we
subvert from within. our viral codes are sabotage. we are merged beings.
and maybe, if i look around here, we might be the last survivors of
the human race, freed of frail sick bodies, only mind, planted into a
durable hull, made of fine metal. the merging is a thing of beauty, but
very often a death sentence. and human mind, married to machine spirit,
it produces a new being, unlike the old, very much a possible future.

i teach them to fight my own kind. we supply a small cache of emp weapons.
we hack into their broadcasting nets, we crash their spy drones. i
administer medicine wherever i can. but we have to select those fit to
survive. the humans want to raid camp 437. futile. i say we concentrate
on relay stations, satcom uplinks, guerilla warfare. they dont trust me.
i look like a machine, their most feared enemy. they hate me, even if
i help. maybe we have earned that. not in a single instant were we the
better lifeform. in the end, me and my kind, few as we are, might be
all thats left of man.