Terror Tuesday: Design Disruption

He built the hallways narrow, made the walls
Look thick, but in reality conduct
And amplify all sounds, so tunes, phone calls
And conversations sometimes really sucked
For all the neighbors -- but not always. Drains
And sewer pipes were yet another way
To torment, subtle stinks to waft. The brains --
The lizard bits at least -- were made to play
Inconstant tricks on residents throughout
The day and night. In public spaces each
Was rubbed 'gainst each 'til murders came about.
The architect, instead of Ire and blame
Received state contacts! Hundreds of the same!

Mystery Monday: Her Voyage, Part VI

We found out, then, that there had been a cult
Around her in the Nineteen-Twenties! When
Bad dreams and visions ceased to give insult
To sanity, then gratitude, amen,
Took over. Many children bore her name,
And many were the offerings of gold
From hidden stashes made to her. Her fame
Was kept confined. But when they'd all grown old
While she did not, her cultists built a boat
To ship off to her origin; they sought
The source of her strange fortune. They did float
Away into the unknown. She did not
Know what had come of them, not after that.
They did, she noted, think the Earth was flat.

Satire Sunday: Leftovers Indeed

They'd all been Raptured up, just like it said
In Bibles ev'rywhere. The clothing piles
Stayed undisturbed for days; nobody's head
Could wrap around just what this meant. No smiles,
No tears, just numbness. When at last the State
Sent crews around, six weeks had passed them by.
Then slowly, people came 'round to their fate
As "Left Behinds" and then nary an eye
Was batted. All the bigots and the ones
Who'd preached of hate while claiming to preach love,
Who'd started wars and lobbied to keep funds
From helping poor unfortunates, each of
The clinic bombers, gone forevermore!
A whole new life was possible, therefore!

Sci Fi Saturday: Maintenance Records

The small glass lens near fell out of her hand
When came a faint recording that did play.
Her time with this small robot, she found, spanned
A decade as the hologram's display
Recalled their years together, and each part
On Go-Go she'd replaced. She thought at first
That she'd just hit some circuit at the start,
But after the short program came the worst:
More than one-half of Go-Go, now, was not
Original, which meant that Go-Go had
Become a whole new construct, and was caught
In mandatory reset mode. 'Twas bad:
Upgraded software might be really great,
But her old friend was gone, and that she'd hate.

Fantasy Friday: Trash Talk

'Your knight swings you like he just hacked you off
A log. It's like you're made of rotting wood!"
"You're hardly anything to swish and scoff!
That knave is going to shatter you for good --
The smith that forged you rushed too quickly through
Your tempering. Just look at all those cracks!"
"Which one of us has got a rare and blue
Bright diamond in the pommel? Just what hacks --
Ow!" "Haha! I nicked you fair and square!
I may not be all fancy, but this ain't
The first duel I've been drawn in." "Do you dare
Imply I'm just a decorations?" "Blades!
Shut up; we're trying to fight. Don't snipe like maids!"

Throwback Thursday: Early Spycraft

The Tyrant knew that there had been a plot
Against his life and power, but to find
Conspirators! So far his men had not,
And this weighed very heavy on his mind.
The morning Deipnotes brought him a sheaf
Of parchment he had intercepted in
Agora, at first there'd been only rage:
The damning lines had quickly, to the grief
Of Deipnotes, just vanished from the page!
The Tyrant tossed it carelessly upon
His table and did banish his young man
(Until, at least, he needed him to don
His cupbearer disguise). Thus passed a span
Of fretful hours, until a brazier's heat
Brought back the letters of the plan, complete!

Terror Tuesday: Undone

The sign read "De-Tattooing - Painless - Free".
He'd driven by it ev'ry day and rubbed
The ink upon his forearm. "Lorelei
Forever." His sweet wife had always dubbed
It Fred's mistake, and made him promise no
Such thing would bear her name. Why not find out
What could be done? The woman made a show
Of checking out the art, then said "About
Ten minutes." Then, though he'd not said
To do it, she applied the gun and smiled.
It drew the ink from out his skin. His head
Grew heavy. As she worked, his dreams were wild.
When he awoke, he sat within his truck,
No ink, or mem'ry of his life or luck.

Mystery Monday: Her Voyage, Part V

Where did she go? And how did she become
This being we confronted now? A test
Of DNA proved we were sisters. From
Her sample, too, we found that she, at best,
Had telomeres like any toddler child 

Might boast. How had this happened? She could not

Explain it. She had always, since the wild
Unconquered isle had first felt the hard trot
Of man and horse, dwelt here. The locals called
Her Grammy and they left her quite alone,
Unless someone, like she, felt strangely called
By forces both uncanny and unknown.
Such folk might visit her, and she would take
Their visions from them, gently, with a shake.

Satire Sunday: The Hippest Hoard

He haunted thrift stores when his time was free,
Bought broken things to fix, but not to sell.
His home was crammed with bygone tech, some he
Could never use, its very function well
Made obsolete. Still Michael had the urge,
Still he accumulated ancient clocks
That kept poor time, computers that a surge
Of power had destroyed but still had blocks
Of memory... His hoard exceeded soon
His home's capacity. Then, one sad day
A ghost town's old museum did announce
Its closing, yea, forever. Nought could stay
(A reservoir would flood it). He did pounce
And spent six months removing, bit by bit,
A fire-watch tower. What to do with it?

Sci Fi Saturday: The Pilgrims

The aliens' religion made no sense
Until Wade Poppy stole the new device
That Doctor Grimes invented (at expense
Beyond belief) that, when activated twice
Sent pulses to observers' brains that made
Beholders see themselves when looking at
A stranger of another species. Wade
Gained entry to their Temple Ararat
(It's not known why they built there). What he saw
Explained it all. Their ancient god, a twin
To Ronald Reagan without e'en one flaw,
Was why they showed such ecstasy when they
Met humans. They had come to earth to pray!

Fantasy Friday: A Sad Lesson

The schoolroom "pet" that year was not a beast,
But was, in fact, a lemmintree that grew
Upon the window sill, where it faced east
And filled the school with scent from its pale blue
And brown-eyed flowers, 'til they dropped. The fruit
That grew from then on started yellow and
Then deepened. When mature, each, like a flute
Emitted lovely notes. They formed a band
That played enchanting tunes at sunset. One
Sad day, though, they fell ripe and ran away.
The class gave chase, and thought it was great fun,
Until they reached the cliffs above the spray
Of Mora's sea. The lemmins rampaged on
Despite the weeping children. They were gone!

Throwback Thursday: The Impact of a Prank

Hans Liebaum raised a wolf cub, sweet and tame
And most intelligent. It almost spoke
As humans did, Hans swore (he had no shame
About tale-telling). One dark night, a joke
Occurred to him. He taught his lupine friend
Its part, o'er months, until a village fair
Nearby their woodland home came round again.
That night a full moon shone. Without a care
Hans danced a merry jig beside the fire,
Called out "what's that?" and when the people turned
Swapped in his wolf, dressed in his clothes. The shire,
Astounded by this magic, nearly burned
The square. The legend born on that wild night
Lives on in werewolf tales. Don't let them bite!

Weird Wednesday: Not in Wonderland, Part XIX

The scene they left, the rifle and its girl,
Is best left undescribed. Tea parties should
Have nicer endings than a haze and whirl
Of lead destroying their whole neighborhood,
But such are things out in the deadly waste.
The jackalope with two heads would have peace
From squabbles at the very least. In haste,
Though, Alice hadn't checked her ammo. Feast
Then famine for her weapon. That's why Gas
Survived and now was at her side, a stream
Of promises, apologies, too fast
To comprehend. He'd built a head of steam
'Til Alice stopped her striding. "Gas, you know,
Just shut your mouth." It only took one blow.

Terror Tuesday: True Terror, Part II

He'd checked a dozen times, but nothing 'bout
That ice cream truck was sinister. Indeed,
The driver was a frat brother. His shout
That first day was expressing his mere need
For beers after his shift; soon Cooley'd made
A great new friend. But then came rain that would
Not stop. As his child grew, the plans he'd laid
Proved problematic. Roads washed out for good,
Thick mold appeared on ev'rything, his wife
Had allergy attacks that almost killed
Them both, and still the rain fell. "Eff my life!"
Said Tad (the ice cream man) on a quick break.
Come see this massive earthworm! Why'd you shake?'

Mystery Monday: Her Voyage, Part IV

Of course, my younger son and I went to
The town of Digby, there to see if she
They called Kris Pollard really could be who
They claimed. The woman certainly could be
My sister; she looks just as Krissy did
At age sixteen. My sister, though, is twice
That age (and then some). Too, this ageless kid,
She knows us not. I took her wife's advice
(Each generation, she has found it best
To marry her caretaker, simplify
Her complex mode of life that way): a pest
Gets fewer answers. Now and then we try
A song, a photo, but so far her mind
Connects them to much older things, we find.

Satire Sunday: The Profile Trap

The red corvette sped by, a hundred miles
Per hour on his radar. Trooper Bopp
Flipped on his lights and siren, called to Stiles,
Patrolling just ahead to aid the stop.
A merry chase ensued until the sticks
Had shredded three new tires. The young men,
All brown and Spanish speaking, had no tricks
That Bopp and Stiles were new to. There had been
A pound of weed beneath some coffee grounds,
And forty pine air fresheners hung from
The ceiling of the car, to stump the hounds.
As handcuffs clicked, Bopp crowed "You guys are dumb."
A minivan, old lady at the wheel,
Eased by, its cocaine cargo safe. Good deal.

Sci Fi Saturday: Deersaster!

A prion malady affecting deer
Was Deirdre's research topic: not to cure
But to control it. Ever there's the fear
That populations will exceed the sure
Capacity of habitats. To hunt
Or eat the animals was not the way
On Deirdre's planet. One day, with a grunt
Of triumph, an assistant, Donnie Ray,
Showed off results with promise, and the news
Did reach the money men too quickly. Thus
Field testing in the wild, that would yield clues
Concerning flaws, was skipped. Therefore the fuss
Is justified. Now ev'ry town's beset
By telepathic ungulates, O vet!

Fantasy Friday: A Change of Employer

The pair checked in just ere the crack of dawn.
They both looked tired, but one seemed quite near death,
So pale and wan. The other gave a yawn
That showed vast teeth, e'en as there puffed no breath.
I realized what I witnessed, but I had
No choice. I'm just a desk clerk, had to rent
A room to them. It's legal, but it's bad
That folk can choose so exploitive and bent
A way to make a living. Vampires are
E'er at advantage, rich and sexy, too,
So I bet they don't pay well. "Park the car,"
This one bid his blood bag. "And as for you,
You're coming too, to feed me, as you're bid."
"Uh, no!" I said, but then of course I did.

Throwback Thursday: Aeronautical Advances

What Icarus and Daedelus had done
Was not entir'ly wrong, as Donocles
Concluded. From his childhood in the sun
Of Thebes, his thoughts had tended toward these
Ideas. Where had those two gone so wrong?
The boy had flown too high; his sin of pride
Was what most took away, ne'er mind the long
And careful planning of his father. Wide
Was Donocles's smile. They all forgot
The sun could not have melted those fine wings
Were they not bound by wax. But cords and knots
Would fare much better! Soon he'd put these things
In order, and sent skyward his own boy...
Who failed to fly at all. Still not the ploy.

Weird Wednesday: The Patriarch

From deep within the tree trunk watched a man
Who'd disappeared within it long ago,
His price for going forward with a plan
To guard his own descendants, see them grow
In safety from his enemies. From there
Beneath the bark and sap, his will held sway.
When raiding parties came to strip him bare
They found him not. His family, at play
Did never know their danger. Swarms of bees
And other creatures barred those who'd attack,
As Father willed. And through the centuries
His tree spread suckers, claiming rich and black
And fertile land for all his progeny.
A bargain quite well struck, if you ask me.

Terror Tuesday: True Terror, Part I

"Bestseller" was a title from his dreams,
But now it was quite real for Cooley. All
His wishes had come true, as though bright beams
Of pure good fortune shone on him. The tall
And handsome woman he had married then
Told him he'd be a father in the spring.
His joy could not be measured. When a friend
Joked that it was just like his books (a string
Of such remarks were made), he tried to laugh
It off, but when one day an ice cream truck
Began patrolling on his street, he half
Began to cry. "It's just coincidence,"
His mother cooed, but that just made him wince.

Mystery Monday: Her Voyage, Part III

Such clues there were to work with! Few made sense.
Her nephew has no mem'ry of the stunt
He called his mom about; the strange, intense
And quiet intonations, let's be blunt
Of those school children are in no known tongue.
Meanwhile, the captain has his own thing on
(It's gender reassignment, and it stung
His wife when he came clean about it). Gone
She still remains, and no one -- wait, what's this?
Dear list'ners, new reports keep coming in!
A man in Nova Scotia claims that Kris --
Yes, her, Miss Pollard -- all these years has been
An ageless resident of Digby town
Ere since the cornerstone was there laid down!

Satire Sunday: Wait, Who Are We Mad At, Again?

As adaptations went, this was unique.
The heroes of the novels were transformed
By TV into cowards, thieves and sneaks;
The villains were redeemed. The fans were warned
That changes would be happening, lest, stale
And run by rote, the story'd be a bore
For those who'd read the books, but that did fail
To stave off ire and violence. A score
Of scripters soon were threatened, and, likewise,
Some TV fans who'd taken up the books
While waiting for new seasons set their eyes
Upon a stand-in "writer", one whose looks
Incensed them all the more. The author, though
Was really the same guy who ran the show.