Ice and Fire, Zachary Gibson [best contemporary novels txt] 📗

Table of Contents

Chapter 1: Thoughts of Ice

Chapter 2: Thoughts of Fire

Chapter 1: Thoughts of Ice

“Frozen Memories”

Times long past,
And ways long cast,
People who came and went,
Things received and sent.

But what is it that lingers?
There, on the tips of my fingers?
It is a small flake of snow,
Of ages so very long ago.

What stories it could tell,
Of those good, and those well,
That it may inspire upon us,
Such a feeling as thus.

The tales of a true winter,
Where it flew and sintered,
Mingling with the trees, with ice,
Spreading glee to entice and entice.

Perhaps it roamed across the world,
Swirled and twirled, curled and whirled,
To the farthest reaches of the sky,
Simply to land on a very shy I.

And so what do I find?
What comes to my humble mind?
Why all the stories of this little snowflake,
All the places the wind may take.

And I wonder, and I wonder,
What it must be like to look from down under,
Instead of above, in the friendly clouds,
In the fluffy shrouds.

But I suppose I’ll never know,
Or in entirety ever show,
Any complete certainties,
For those free and frozen memories.

“Hate’s Rhyme”

The moon hovers in the night sky,
Its beams dancing on the ground below,
Rain falls from Heaven’s high,
Suddenly, a sharp howl of sorrow.

Follow the sound,
Feel the pain,
Lakes fill the ground,
From the falling rain.

See him now,
This creature of the night,
Miserable from his freshly broken vow,
The river of tears blurs his sight.

His love, lost to time forever,
Next to him, a soft whimper of fear,
Ties so strong, sever,
Soft sobs, as he pulls the child near.

His world stripped of dreams,
Because of this sick’ning crime,
Heart tearing at the seams,
And so begins Hate’s Rhyme.

“Plague of Society”

A malevolent flurry,
Encased in hellish fury,
Totally terrifying,
Yet sadistically satisfying.

It lies within each of us,
Deadly and destructive, and thus,
When we engage in this fatal epic,
There is no alleviating antiseptic.

This demonic manifestation,
Unique with each demonstration,
Attacks in devastating new forms,
To forever feed the eternal storm.

This circumventive force,
Yields no rendition of remorse,
Merely a presiding hate,
Which no action can abate.

It is the fuel of War,
This dynastic destroyer,
Consuming all in its wake;
Human spirit it shall break.

Humanity, the obedient victim,
Catalyzed by our own sadomasochism,
From which we become the Infinite Paradox,
Whom the master malefactor mocks.

How, though, is this what we have become?
Our own re-complicating conundrum?
And sadly, it is not easy to realize,
That it spawns from what we fantasize.

For it is we who are the shameless leader,
We who are the mindless reader,
The tasteless desecrator,
The hopeless fabricator.

Our forms are the written word,
The spoken sword…
The bleeding bullet,
The garroted gullet…

We are the creation turned vile,
That which will not – cannot – reconcile,
And so, what lies in our impropriety,
Is the very Plague of Society.

“Devastation of Doubt”

It is one of those…unseen powers,
That – granted – doesn’t readily show,
Yet, when unleashed, we cower,
For it is a disease of the so-called “Unknown”.

And here, of course, explanation must be given,
As the “Unknown” construct isn’t easily defined,
So from our “Known” haven, comes our best description,
“It is that we know to which we are unconfined.”

Herein lies irony of a great sort,
I mean, in relation to our “Known” – so secure,
That which provides us great comfort,
Should tantalize us with so lucid a lure.

And, thus, the question is proposed,
“How is it that – in life well protected –
Our very existence rapidly corrodes?”
The answer is lack of circumspect.

It beings in our readiness to cling to the “Known”,
Which sprouts our failure to recognize,
The possible benefits of the UN-known,
In this our imminent destruction lies.

For we do not allow ourselves a trained thought,
And in such overlook the true sacrifice,
Perhaps the panacea we’ve long sought?
Yet – for now, I suppose – current medicine must suffice.

But, THESE are the words of ages long forgotten,
In an era, where society may fritter and shout,
Where life has become lowly and downtrodden,
Is – quite truly – the Devastation of Doubt.

“Human Mathematics”

In our day and age,
We find something quite strange,
What is though?
Do you know, do you know?

Well, let me tell you then,
As surely we are close friends,
It is what we refer to as math,
Its numbers, and symbols, and graphs.

You speak not, yet your eyes inquire,
So I answer your curiosity’s desire,
“Think on it, is it all that it seems?”
Fiction, reality…true or dream?

Why are these simple numbers so complex?
How do they cast this confounding hex?
And that question I can answer as well,
So please, do come whilst I tell.

Math is an entity of times ancient,
Beloved family, yet we estranged it,
For Math brought with it a blessing and a curse,
A tangible, divine magic which sent many to their hearse.

Your eyes glint, seeking the magic,
Desiring to know what is so tragic,
And of course, I shall indulge,
The story that only I may divulge.

Math brought to us a grand epiphany,
One that sewed a great cacophony,
A tumult universally disruptive,
Dangerously and rapidly deconstructive.

It gave to us truth, reality,
A drug of great substantiality,
The result the same as all addictions,
A permanently scarring conviction.

It strips us of which makes us humane,
Confiding in us methods simply insane,
We are taught simplify, equate, evaluate,
Instead we complicate, complicate, complicate.

And herein lies that very plague,
Freedom from which we plead and beg,
It leaves us deprived and depraved,
Of a purity, an innocence that can no longer be saved.

Again your eyes shine in the mystic,
Contemplating, “Is this force sadistic?”
And so I smile and continue,
“No, Friend, this was not the intended venue.”

Our people were made to desensitize,
Taught to realize, not fantasize,
Bled of our most precious traits,
One which waits, and one which sates.

The first is our unsuppressed emotion,
From which spawns love and devotion,
A trait of immense and supreme strength,
That now treks towards its final breath.

The second, our unique imagination,
The human panacea to all dilapidation,
Replaced by Math’s science of medicine,
Where people scream, “Let us in! Let us in!”

The combination of these divines our humanity,
The imbuement, our feeling, understanding,
But no longer do we possess these,
As we sink deeper into our delicious disease.

We tried to defy a truly inhuman power,
Although it sought to aid, we now cower,
For we see what knowledge has incited,
A war, to which all powers are invited.

Now your eyes fill with sorrow,
As you look around our crumbling borough,
Tears free as the blinders finally fall,
And you now clearly see that which will appall.

Now at last you see clearly,
The betrayal of all you held so dearly,
And know the true, the felt value,
Of all the “progress” so shallow.

As I near the awaited close,
I display that which actually shows,
Understand there is no extravaganza,
In the care beheld in the final stanza.

Now I reveal your attitude, masochistic,
“So how does it feel to be a simple statistic?”
The final statement, I speak far more emphatic,
“To know you’re merely a human mathematic?”

“Overwhelmed”

I am all alone,
No one who will condone,
So, I must fight,
To remain in the light.

It is difficult, you must know,
To fight when you feel so low,
And this overwhelming dark,
It’s suffocating and leaving its mark.

It matters not what I do, what I try,
My heart inside screams and breaks and cries,
My first defense shattered, falls,
Away from Darkness to the light, weakened, I crawl.

I crawl away, past another wall, to a place I hide,
To a place stronger, more fortified, where I hope light will abide,
I curl up in fear as I hear it at my second barrier,
I hear and I see Darkness and its carrier.

The barrier holds a minute longer, then it breaks and Darkness rushes me,
To my final barrier, with all speed I flee,
My final barrier I reach, my strongest part, my soul,
As I reach it I turn around and watch Darkness come at me whole.

At first I laugh, triumphant, then I fear,
For as Darkness nears, I see its horrifying leer,
“Back, back” my mind screams, my legs barely obey,
I flee again, as far as possible from the fray.

Darkness comes at my barrier again, and again,
Fear, terror, afraid more than I have ever been,
Darkness makes one final strike, and down my barrier crashes,
When I see this happen; before my eyes my life flashes.

Then all I know is that my barriers are shattered, my soul lost, and my fire out,
I try to escape, but I can’t for mind, body, and soul have been caught in a rout,
Darkness comes over to me and in the end, swallows,
Forever am I lost in Darkness’ hallows.

My fire out, my life gone, my mind lost, and my soul shattered,
All my remains are totally tattered,
Lost eternally in Darkness’ terrifying realm,
Darkness has come, and its strength has overwhelmed.

“Tears of Blood”

Why?
One simple question, ask I.
How?
One simple question, ask thou.

Have I done something to deserve this?
Is there something I have done to make things amiss?
I say, “There is not a thing I have done,”
Thou say, “Thou hath hurt far more than one.”

Why must I face this harm?
My body is sounding off a serenade of alarms,
Why must I suffer through this fear?
Thou say, “So thine heart may shed a single tear.”

More tears I must shed?
The very things that I dread,
Why must I cry?
Thou say, “To mourn those who die.”

“There are no more,” I plead,
My eyes have no more tears to bleed,
What do I sacrifice to please?
Thou say, “Fall to thine knees.”

I fall and from my eyes come a flood,
I cry the tears of sin, the tears of blood,
I fall and in terror and pain I weep,
Why must I suffer pain so deep?

Thou say, “To know the pain of another,”
I cry, “But why? I know the pain of others,”
For years I have bled and have wept,
For years I have not even slept.

I cry, “Why do these nightmares haunt me so?”
The pain I hide, so others may not know,
Thou say, “Thou are punished for thine crime,”
The pain I have caused others, the pain of time.

I lie now,
Having finally cried for thou,
Thou say, “For now I am pleased, but not sated,”
To cry the tears of blood forever, I am fated.

The tears I have cried,
Mourning those who have died,
Are now