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Time is a luxury we no longer possess

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Space Tourism Chronicles The Slingshot Saga Time is a luxury we no longer possess Our battered Subi spacecraft, a relic in the night Flickering erratic, its core a dying light On Primary Trade Lane Delta-Nine, a river of light so grand But cycles bled away, draining across the land BK slumped, pale and strained, JB with eyes closed in despair Time a luxury we no longer possessed, consumed by cosmic air. Transcript from the Slingshot Saga - Time is a luxury we no longer possess Our goddamn battered Subi spacecraft, a damn relic lost in the endless black void! Flickering like a dying firefly on the edge of extinction, its core barely clinging to life like some stubborn, flickering candle about to blow out. We’re stuck on Primary Trade Lane Delta-Nine, that blazing river of cosmic light stretching for eons, yet every damn cycle just bleeds away, sucking the lifeblood right out of this forsaken stretch of space. BK is slumped over, looking paler than a ghost at a midnight séance, and J...

Godin Defence: Why can't everything just stay the same?




Life promised so much but little favour came my way.
And over this vista of nothingness I claimed what is mine.
I waited for all of the promises and yet none did come.
Others more fortunate gained splendor, but splendor was not me.
And I gained self respect on other's misfortune.
But your misfortune is not of my concern.
Count your blessings and rot in your tragedy.
Yes it will end in tears should you trespass my den.

I do not travel,  my miracle is here.
I remained close to my heritage.
This colonial might.
This is God's country, he gave it to me.
I will deny you entry.
You are contagion, you are far less than me.

There are trees in my backyard, insects and lizards.
Rodents scamper at my feet and bats by my ears.
My dog is obedient.
In silence we sit.
Impatient and anxious , I do not want change.
In dark moments I tend to my spite.
With bottle in hand I seek like-minded.

A good  man I have been.
I have done no wrong.
My house is clean.
My garden is tendered.
My lawn is mowed.
My animals are fed.
My hatred is strong.

This is my patch, it's where I belong.
This is my home, you are not welcome.
This is my country and I trust no other.
Why can't everything just stay the same?

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