the cager

Part 8: the cager

The cager traps. The cages raise.

Small infants in an iron cage

To hold them all it must be hard

To keep them inside metal bars.

People inside are until they grow old,

 forced to keep its heart from growing cold.

Old House

Lanney and Egbert went to a house that all the children dreaded.

For according to them, under the house was a demon’s tomb embedded

They threw lots of stones, and broke all his bones and locked him up tight in a box

With a beast of mischief and a butler named Dave to keep him trapped with locks.

Egbert and Lanney went to the house to prove the myth was fake.

Lanney brought with her a club with spines, and eggbert carried a rake.

But when they chased off the beast of mischief and Dave stared out of the glass,

The demon came out of the basement stairs, and the screams they screamed were their last.

The ocean

Wide, vast, and seemingly infinite, it streaches as a nebulous, dark plain to the darkened horizon. The solemn, perfect line that separates sky from sea seems to silently utter ancient and profound things that far surpass words. It speaks with a calm, heartless tone of timeless intelligence, and seems obviously aware of its own indisputable dignity and poise as it silently urges me to join it. To go back to the churning, moving, source of  life that breathes and consumes and creates with an infinite, raw power. It is where life began, and more than likely, it is where it will reach its indefinite, terminal demise. When asked if the sea is truly a creature, both the everyman and the scientist would deny, without hesitation, however, I have a different theory, and this all goes back to the true definition of life, which is of course nonexistent.  Just like us, the sea is made up of many smaller living organisms, as well as manny inanimate and non-living ones. Just like us, the sea must consume, it must survive, and if it fails to do so, it will die, such is the nature of life.

200000 Leagues Under the Sea pt. One

This book i one of my favorite classics of all time so far because of its memorable characters, and amazing writing style. But the best part of the book for me at least, is really the story and concept. Many of the visuals and scenes described hear are so iconic and dramatic that they are remembered fondly to this day. The author clearly has a marked affinity for the sea, and it is transparently clear here, and this is one of the only books that I'v ever read that was educational without talking down to the reader. Another part that I enjoyed about the book was its use of scientific terminology and realistic human reactions to the events happening here. Both of these literary attributes coupled with the luxurious vocabulary and word choice create an amazing experiential novel of epic proportions. I truly can't wait to keep reading, and become astonished once again.

paul

Part 7: Tall Paul

Tall Paul did not have a home.

But he had the streets and roads to roam.

He had no food from farming fields

But he had fruit that a garden yield.

He had no shirt upon his back

But he made one out of burlap sacks

He didn’t have a single friend

But he had lots of time to spend.

“Far to tall to get inside”

said all the people. They didn’t lie.

Mr. W

On Tuesday, Zoe Robinson walked into a room. She was fair and delicate and had a handbag with a tin box of peppermints. As she walked in, the eight peppermints that were inside rattled a bit, like the first notes to a forgotten song. She was tentative in her manner, but her face was earnest. Her long fingers were tangled around a manila envelope with pieces of paper inside. The room was dark, but not intentionally. There were several bare light bulbs that hung many meters above the floor each of which gave off a dim but persistent glow that only illuminated the bulb itself, and uttered an incessant and perpetual buzzing noise. The room was long with a sprawling polar bear pelt rug that was made from the pelts of many separate animals, as one would never fill the great expanse even partially. As a result, the rug had three snarling heads, eight clawed limbs, and an unexplained antler. At the end of the room was a wooden chair with what appeared to be a floral patterned rickshaw canopy sewed onto it. There sat Mr. W. Zoe had never actually seen him herself, nor could she confirm what Mr. W really was. But he was always there, casting an enigmatic silhouette through the rickshaw hood. Once, she had tried to talk to him. She had come in, handed him the envelope as usual, and asked him why he needed the papers inside, and what he did with the information inside. Mr. W had responded with the noise of a startled pig. He perpetually sat in front of a huge machine that was made of dark metal. The front piece seemed to be a typewriter, judging by the noise it made, but the rest was inscrutable. It had many gears and strips of dark metal, and the clockwork of the great machine became dense as it neared the center. Every day, Zoe delivered the envelope to Mr. W.

science

Science is like a river. The river is constantly heading forwards into the unknown, but runs the risk of being blocked by stones and branches that clog it up, and slow it’s development progress. The stones and branches are like the things that slow scientific progress, such as moral disagreements, greed, pettiness, and impatience. Although inconvenient, these things are a definite part of the human condition, and thus, they continue to exist. Over a while, the debris gathers, creating a constantly growing dam in the river that threatens to stop any progress from being made. It seems that maybe, scientific advancement is so halted by this, that nothing more can be accomplished with the great dam only growing. Yet sometimes, the dam breaks loose, and one or two inconveniences are for a moment disregarded. It creates a whole in the dam that allows a bit of progress to seep out into the future, and for better or worse forge through the unknown, into the yonder of moral grayness and uncertainty.