Poetry collection

[corncobman]

Pg 608

Quick, Give Chase, Books Out Deface!

Choked troll, it flees,
Dropping a paper trail.
Mikkel down on his knees,
Others keep on its tail!

The medic to collate,
And the papers to sort.
They have a date with
A stealing book escort.

Follow the lead,
The paper sheets drop,
As it runs it bleeds,
Its mouth with box stopped.

Into disarray, the
Three break file and rank.
To catch the troll runaway,
Up stairs dark and dank.

[corncobman]

Pg 609

That Was Close, Missed By The Gross

Lalli dashes up the steps,
In pursuit of the beast.
But it returned and leapt,
Like lightning greased.

Mouth open, full speed.
He ducks down, it misses,
It doesn't succeed,
Just emtpy air kisses.

Lalli crouching low,
Cool as you like.
It's belly exposed,
Now's the time to strike.

[corncobman]

Pg 610

Papers Mislaid, Aware, The Shades

Fleeing creature passes by,
Lalli turns, a questioned look.
Now alone, the Finnish spy,
Time to reform the scattered books.

Sees the trail, the moment at,
The turn about, the reversing act.
Now looking up the copycat,
Realises the dangers exact.

His presence, they've become aware.
A phenomenon, the dead bygone,
Their gaze affixed, their eyeless stares.
Upon him, now attention's drawn.

------------------------------------

Full of Scaries (based on Territories by Rush)

I see the many spectres between heaven and earth
Seems this mission is more trouble than it's worth
Gather all the papers and just leg it really quick
Before you turn into the spirits dead and sick
Hospital place with a ward
They stay looking like a shadowy hoard
Staring behind the glass
Looking at you en masse

Horrors untold - a reality divorced
Yet somehow staring through like an undead army force
Those poor ill people hooked up to the machines
Can't really tell what this here mission all means
In different places from cities to towns
In different places they keep hanging round and round and round

I see so many shades overcome and endless stares
While all my colleagues have no idea of what is there
Feel the horror...feel the mood...and feel the fear...
Why come enter this place when Darkness was so near?
The monsters get stalking so tough
Run if that wasn't evil enough
We get the papers and the documents 'sides
In this chamber the spirits all inside

Horrors untold - a reality divorced
Yet somehow staring through like an undead army force
Those poor ill people hooked up to the machines
Can't really tell what this here mission all means
In different places from cities to towns
In different places they keep hanging round and round and round

They come without name, death untamed, a group without rhyme
Caught between the passing and the passages of time
Better get out, to outside, in the day while it's still light
Than staying here inside, it's an enemy we cannot fight

Horrors untold - a reality divorced
Yet somehow staring through like an undead army force
Those poor ill people hooked up to the machines
Can't really tell what this here mission all means
In different places from cities to towns
In different places they keep hanging round and round and round

[corncobman]

Pg 611

A Lure Created, To Page Weighted

Spectres congregated
Around the sole figure.
More and more agitated,
By the beings lured.

Paper rune located,
With scrawling obscure.
Hoping it will negate,
Only one way to be sure.

Gods' favour of lore,
The page designated.
Onto the tiled floor,
So he can be extricated.

Seem to explore,
The sheet annotated.
Curious of it more,
The spirits seem placated.

[corncobman]

Pg 612

Failing To Ward, Put To The Sword

The paper rune,
In a fiery sizzle.
But then all too soon,
Burnt out in a fizzle.

The ghosts then advance,
Smothering the embers.
Hoping to enhance,
Their number of members.

Nothing to do next,
But turn tail and run.
By inept Braidy hexed.
The fleeing wiry one.

The snakelike phantoms,
Now scatter and chase,
Meanwhile, asking, the Com,
Where is ferret-face?

Then lumbering forth,
The boxed in great foe.
Taking sword to its girth,
It'll be split head to toe.

[corncobman]

Pg 613

Another To Fight? Oh, Oh Right!

Onto the ground,
The sliced troll falls.
Mikkel to the downed, to
Retrieve box, books and all.

Back Lalli races,
His arm waving frantic.
The others, no traces,
So odd look his antics.

What did you bring her?
Is another one coming?,
With big arms and fingers,
A many-eyed angry grossling?

Sputtering out 'Ghosts!',
Another Swedish word.
Mikkel skeptical the most,
Sigrun humours the absurd.

[corncobman]

Pg 614

Mad As A Hatter, Paper Shards Scatter

The ghosts mention,
Is our leaving cue.
No cynic dissention,
Even if it's not true.

Meanwhile looking bored,
Swedish cleanser unused.
Over babies must lord,
His ego must be bruised.

To the exit coerced,
The three in the structure.
Outside to flames burst,
Emil's pocket page ruptured.

His pocket smokes hot,
Can't pull out quick enough.
Disintegrates. "What? What?"
Was Reynir's rune duff?

Paper fragments spill,
Sigrun face first seen.
Waving to Emil while
Kitty stretches on windscreen.

[corncobman]

Pg 615

Step On It Tuuri, Make Like A Tree!

Back behind doors closed,
It's time to get away.
Those annoying ghosts.
"Spirits incoming.", "O-okay!"

Lalli's mighty spooked,
Don't touch him Emil.
Physical contact rebuked,
You don't know how he feels.

Reynir starts to pray,
Aspiring mage feels it too!
Emil's quite dismayed,
He says to Mikkel, "Hey. You."

----------------------------------

Pg 616

Sensible Bloke, Magic's A Joke?

Mikkel you surely don't
Believe in such tripe?
It seems to be unknown, if
He truly believes the hype.

He's seen some effects,
Of Norwegian spirit heals.
The results of which next
To his own felt fairly real.

Emil still a skeptic,
He remains an unbeliever.
Using nothing as a metric,
As effective as either?

Sigrun saying congrats
In not dying together.
Call the bureaucrats,
Time to leave here forever.

[corncobman]

Pg 617

Riches And Fame, Disappointment Came

With riches provide,
Maybe a vaccine recipe.
Or hidden cure supplied,
Go down in history!

As heroes hailed,
Think about it!
Maybe legend tales
Will speak of the unit.

But as enthusiasm fades,
And they get down to talk.
These happy charades,
It's now time to take stock.

By some bad news rocked?
No more happy facade seen.
Their confidence knocked.
What a miserable trip it's been...

[corncobman]

Pg 618

Pages Ponderance , Past Conference

Preparing to read,
Off sheets laminated.
Reynir taking heed,
His curiosity unsated.

The ancient written notes,
Back our minds are cast.
To a group of white coats,
A flash to the past.

[corncobman]

Pg 619

Death Of The Brain, Little Time Gain

A meeting of suits,
To discuss effects.
The serum reputes to
Perform to specs.

However there's one,
Tiny flaw observable.
Eventually they succumb to,
Brain death irreversible.

All the test subjects
Become dead without sense.
No causality detected,
They need more time hence.

Two months asked, but
One month demanded.
A safe cure tasked,
Didn't go as planned.

[Rhynerd]

Page 620
Ended up modifying my modification of Two Weeks by Grizzly bear further in response to this page, not fully happy with the results but here it is:


Giving all medbays,
This serum we made.
Our goal is simply:
To keep the rash at bay.

It's not curing
despite all tries.
It's just killing,
From inside.

Look in only grays,
Each morgue is a maze.
Gets worse every day,
just how they pass away...

No more time to try,
Pass out a standby
And now, none's turning!
We've held the rash at bay...

It's not curing,
makes the brain die,
With no turning,
Justified.

Is it mercy?
Maybe some kind...
There's still turning,
and now geists.

Mercy.
Sometimes.
Turning.
Die.

[corncobman]

Pg 620

One Fortnight From, Or Use The Serum

They have two weeks
Top brass with no ruth.
They'll be up the creek,
If things don't go smooth.

Take what the've got
To the vaccinal lab.
If time is for naught,
We'll use these for jabs.

Not the best outcome,
This was not a solution.
Ghosts resulting from
Fatal serum distribution?

[corncobman]

Pg 621

Our One Last Plan, To Save Who We Can...

Don't understand, sir,
This suggestion does irk.
Why use the 'cure'
If the thing does not work?

It's the effort last-ditch,
The clock still yet ticks.
After more time in which,
To save the not yet sick.

Rid the rash, it might not,
But they're on a tight-rope.
It might stop the rot,
Our last and final hope.

To save who can be saved,
A hard decision must be made.
For better a quiet, early grave,
Than to become living-dead, decayed...

[corncobman]

Pg 622



Me Ol' Mate. It's Already Too Late.

"You think me too meek.
Delaying yet again.
At the end of two weeks,
You think me insane."

An order postponed,
With nothing much gained.
We'll all be boned, when
No infrastructure remains.

It could all be too late.
In two weeks time.
His friend lays it straight.
"It's over", he chimes.

"Already too late", He says.
End of the documentary.
The stained pages depress.
The rest is history.

-----------------------------



Ship Pickup Expectant, With Facilities For Disinfectant

Sigrun's a bit miffed,
There was nothing inside.
It would have saved time if,
There a sign was to guide.

She grumbles, audibly seethes,
While Mikkel apologises.
It was a long shot indeed.
With their less than ideal prizes.

In any case they have nabbed
A collection of books fine.
A ship with quarantine lab,
They have managed to assign.

A pickup in twenty days,
For the mission's conclusion.
But a sleeping head is raised.
The scout roused in confusion.