Through caverns measureless to man

One ship escaped the jaws of science behind
And fled to Far Away, a distant world;
It crashed into a moonlit grove, align'd
Itself along that later was a road...
Then shot a signal out into the stars.
The cost of lightspeed messaging was high,
When there was once the birds, the trees, the grass,
Now lay a desolate long stretch of blight.

The spectre of technology lurch'd out
And slunk into the caverns, waiting for a shout.

--------------============+++++++++++++++============---------------

As you can see, poetry ofttimes makes
Little sense, for one can easily
Chop up a chunk of prose (cheat!)
Or Capitalise to make It seem like Wisdom's Words.
As such, by language twisting upon itself,
With horrid rhythm plaguing these pages,
The story I put before you
Has been written not by me, but by someone else, loosely based
(Chop the sentence!) on a book
(Chop the line!) whose name
(Chop the name, raise the tension!) is none other than---

--- With poetry, you've opened Pandora's Box
And revealed the Star within.
Poetry is one heck of a Judas too,
From within the Box, Unchained he has been.


~Wheen.