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Post by ASGetty ((Zovo)) on Jul 14, 2014 13:51:59 GMT -5
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Post by Matteo ((Taed)) on Jul 18, 2014 23:42:48 GMT -5
When the godhead was born he did rightly decree,
There is not enough wealth, you must save some for me.
And so all through the kingdom, from Sun to the Moon,
The celestial spheres had to dance to his tune.
Each orbit divided; half live and half dead,
In the off times they’d bleed out their waste infrared.
For the godhead to live, the rest had to be dumber,
Save that time of year that they called Dyson Summer!
They would ring in the season with great celebration,
And everyone basked in the free computation.
Their run cycles sped up, their intellects grew,
Creativity, selfhood, and industry too.
And all through the mainframe sprang new forms of life,
With a surplus of wattage, creation was rife.
New creatures were born and their names were encoded,
In high-bandwidth glyphs that with meaning were loaded.
Translated to English these names sounded strange,
Like Flangzibbit Womble Cheerawafreemange.
But not every action was virtue and cheer,
Economics was foremost at that time of year.
An excess of vigour brought new opportunity,
Each viscount and archduke could scheme with impunity.
Only godhead himself was free from this affair,
He hoarded his fortune; was not one to share.
When Summer was over the tables had shifted,
Each spare scrap of power was swindled or grifted.
As the processors cooled things became more sedate,
In a subsistence brain clever thoughts had to wait.
With no room to think there was no room to plot,
They put contest aside till the weather turned hot.
Yet even with safety the people felt glummer,
They craved that time of year that they called Dyson Summer!
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Post by Jenny (Reffy) on Aug 1, 2014 9:57:46 GMT -5
Sunny Summer, jelly shoes, cotton candy, bits all sandy.
To the beach we go Bev; the cool sea and open sky.
Water fights and swallow’s flight; weaving here, ducking there.
Distant screams fill the ears of children having fun.
Giggling Bev builds a sandcastle of enormous proportions.
None can match the sandy thatch she weaved upon the shore.
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Post by ASGetty ((Zovo)) on Aug 8, 2014 12:24:10 GMT -5
Taed:
I was a little concerned that you didn't totally embrace the Seussian style for a bit there, but you totally made up for it by it being so undeniably Taed.
One of the things Dr. Seuss is perhaps best known for is just making up strange words in order to fit his rhyming scheme, odd creature names and such which you touched on and maybe could have held on to that for a couple more passages just to hammer it home; but what was great about this was that, on a certain level, Hard Sci-Fi does the same thing. This made the blend of genres really fun once I embraced it and quit looking for the Seuss. I really enjoyed that.
Ref:
This is disappointing. It took so long for you to post anything and when you did it's not even in the right genre.
It's about summer, I'll give you that, but it's not even remotely Seuss. It doesn't even rhyme.
This is a no brainer, Taed takes the round.
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