First Chapter In An Untitled Science Fiction Epic.1 TENEBRISFirst Chapter In An Untitled Science Fiction Epic. by Stagan
Imperial Galactic Date 136511/11.22
An explosion of light leaped outwards into the pitch dark surroundings, as the man in military uniform lit another cigarette. With a flick of his wrist, the lighter closed again with a click, and the darkness engulfed him once more, sparing the immediate area of his fiery little companion.
Inhaling deeply, he leaned back against the oppressive obelisk which he had been stood, sat, led, or leant against for the past 15 hours. In this world of complete darkness, he had only the cold stability of this obelisk, and the dry taste of his cigarettes to draw sanity from.
It was a prison planet, the name of which was too long and numerated to bother with. It was known throughout the galaxy only as Tenebris, a name which struck fear into the hearts of all those who stood against Imperial law. It was an endless, flat expanse, with a floor of hard stone and an unreachable ceiling of steel. The monotony of this was interrupted only occasi
Chaos Forever DefinedGracing a hallowed soul with your breath,Chaos Forever Defined by Stagan
as it warms the deep of the halls unending,
as it softly sleeps itself to death.
Cradling a young heart with time on its hands,
gently caressing the layers of doubt and misfortune,
soothing all where it lands.
Beating and throbbing.
A heavy pounding from within as the stress,
and the pressure so huge,
the spirit condenses.
A monolith, a monument to hard times.
What is this spirit now?
But a structure of accidental design.
Flowing so fast, your lovesick blood,
as it ferries mixed emotions of violet and red,
as it so longs to be more than life-giving mud.
Staining the walls, a tapestry so vivid and full
of the images you've forgotten and pushed away,
because you are yet to learn what it is to pull.
Fidgeting and shuffling.
The nerves electrified
-Thunderous and yet
all too calm for one so weak.
A storm weathered too easily.
it is understanding
of what is never understood?
Storming down the temple,
This Life of FeelingPerception.This Life of Feeling by Stagan
Is that pain you feel?
How can you tell pain is real?
Maybe it's just a tickle
and reality is merely fickle.
You can percieve it how you like.
You are in control, after all.
Or are you?
When pleasure overruns the senses,
can you really tell who is who?
A man of action?
A man of thought?
Feel it or do it?
See it or live it?
Just beg for one more hit,
it's great, that one little bit.
Black and white,
Right and wrong,
Nazi anthem or hippie sing-song?
Don't tell me it's evil or good,
pure white snowflakes or thick stinking mud.
We don't know why and who should,
but everyone does.
The soothing hand of a lover,
or the vicous strike from another.
Hot and cold.
Bought and sold,
these tingles and aches
from one another or by awful fakes.
Cut me and love me,
if only for the
To please me and to please you,
all these silly things we do,
for a small
The Man Without a MouthSick of people.The Man Without a Mouth by Stagan
Sick of people talking.
Sick of people walking.
Sick of having to do it in return.
If only for them to confirm,
his ugly life.
Where desparity is rife.
"I'll give away my mouth"
Give it to the poor, the hungry, the sick.
No one wants to look like a selfish prick.
No one cares, as long as its given.
So he gave away his mouth, to those who need it.
So a petty social fire might be re-lit.
No longer did he have to talk.
So people around him too,
didnt have to talk.
It was golden silence anew.
Nothing was expected from him.
He could silence others on a whim.
Give them a look with his plain,
empty face, though sometimes in vain,
for they just wouldnt shut up.
Slavering with their words, like some mangy pup.
He did feel contented.
He did feel safe.
Better in than out with words, he thought.
Better a life of peace than one wrought,
with such dull conversation.
One big boring nation.
It did have its downsides,
Certain moral landslides,
He lost his wi