The Steampunk Empire

The Crossroads of the Aether

AN: This blog is dedicated to my poetry series "A Clockwork Dystopia", by me, Shadow Poet ^_^. It is my sincere hope that all who read will gain not only inspiration but simple enjoyment from my work. Happy reading, and enjoy A Clockwork Dystopia...


Found Horizon
copyright 2010, =-Shadow Poet-=

Gather 'round and settle down to hear the story of a fellow

Came to me some years ago with ragged breath and weary eye

His overarching goal in life was untold treasure, so he'd bellow.

Warm yourselves and listen, children, to the tale forged in the sky.


the sun so brightly rose that day, the morning sky was red as clay

the palisades he stood within were comforting concentric rings.

Each hour since the infant cried had led him lastly to this day

whence he would rise himself aloft upon the six-fold seraph wings.


O, Hear the rhyme of this gray paladin

So shining bright, his hammered plate did gleam

He galloped forth t'ward destiny again,

with windswept hair, he sought the nameless dream.

Mechanus cogs as such saw fit to turn.

The steel and brass together spun as one.

The fuel within his heart did flash and burn,

He had a purpose and a race to run.


trudging forth across the plane, the final falling leaf did flutter

Northern winds would wildly whip toward his face with frigid frost.

Sucking in the bitter blowing frozen milk from nature's udder,

gripped his heart with desolation, forcing him to count the cost.


and at that point in time, he thought, the life he lived was incomplete

but he would not allow his fateless demons to consume his soul

his path was straight, his mind was clear, his heart would not accept defeat

Undying, he would move ahead and try to ascertain his goal.


For days and weeks he walked the ridge, endless miles before and aft,

stum'bling 'pon a bridged river cutting through the frigid land.

Climbing down to view it closer with clear eyes he saw a raft

gently rocking 'gainst a tether, woven by an unknown hand.


So filling up his gourd with water flowing freely all around

he set about to further journey down this path of chosen life.

The rhythm of the waves about him made a rolling crashing sound

but he stood firm in opposition, battling against the strife


And soon as every raging current flung him down the slushy stretch

he saw his pack of rations shaking, bouncing near the edge's breech

Not letting go, his right wrist weakly wobbled and his hand did clench

around oar's shaft, lunging from aft to fore as his left hand did reach


Crash! Upon his belly did he land against the wood support

tight in his grip with not a slip he held the satchel of his gear.

With heavy sigh and nervous laugh he sat back up and looked to port,

and what he saw was soothing balm that purged away his lin'gring fear.


The river 'round him opened up into a salty bustling bay

with fair ships, airships, even land ships! Every ship you can conceive!

So he turned aft within his craft and started oaring on his way.

Stroke for stroke, his little boat, crept onward 'tward his dry reprieve.


O, Hear the rhyme of this gray paladin

So shining bright, his hammered plate did gleam

He galloped forth t'ward destiny again,

with windswept hair, he sought the nameless dream.

Mechanus cogs as such saw fit to turn.

The steel and brass together spun as one.

The fuel within his heart did flash and burn,

He had a purpose and a race to run.


With heavy scrape the wooden crate ran ground upon the public shore

Its one lone crewman standing slowly, now unused to solid land.

He stepped out on the silty sand, his fingers clutching still the oar

the frozen mist of nature's fist had gripped the bones within his hand.


With oar in hand and shoulder pack, our journeyman pressed onward still

its wood weight dragging through the sand and then through gravel as he came

It made a track along his wake and weighed him as he climbed the hill

up to the gate of fair and quaint Port Arthur, t'was the city's name.


Past the walking talking crowds, he journeyed t'ward to the city core

where shops and stalls of every kind were peddling wares from furs to silk.

The beggars begged, the players played, a fop gave silver to a whore.

Only few did call this home, the rest came but to buy their milk.


One of the few then caught his eye, a young male player of a troupe

ecstatic dancing acrobatics, darting here and darting there.

The crowd, so thick in places, parting lest he fall into their group

except our hero, standing firmly, blinded by the solar glare.


With one fell swoop there came a clatter of the dancer 'pon the ground

and our poor hero, decked and dizzy, came around a moment later.

Hearing oar and gear and ration fall with one great clashing sound

the paladin, still shaken, stood and looked down at the instigator.


"What's your name?" he asked the clumsy shadowdancer at his feet.

"Xel'lo'tath," he said to him, "I'm truly sorry for the crash,

but since my wife died in the circus every act is bittersweet.

and make my smiling cirque facade to burn like an infected rash."


"How poetic..." said a surly salty voice within the crowd.

A smiling airman, warmly dressed, who stood and clapped his calloused hands.

"For such an entertainin' act I have to give ya'a gift!" he howled.

"Come aboard the Zephyr Maul and see excitin' foreign lands!"


With happy smile the two accepted, walking t'ward the airship docks.

And when they got there all eyes lifted, taking in the Zephyr Maul.

Her airbag with twin hulls beneath and central ballast filled with rocks,

all looked cohesive as a unit, high above the urban sprawl


Her crew was rough and tumble and her hands precise like a machine

when that great group of airship pirates cast off t'ward the wild blue.

with Captain Seamus "Cogs" O'Malley and first mate Sir Grenadine,

the hero and his bard companion noticed there was someone new...


Standing there at observation was a young and wild wench

Her hair in shades of azure blue, her calloused hands were diligent.

With map in hand and piercing eye, she manned her station like a trench,

yet not so harshly, far more wisely, lest she get belligerent.


and that was all he saw of her for days and weeks and months to come

just passing glances, here and there, knowing not just who she was.

As our poor hero sailed along the high jet stream so far from home

he thought his mission might have waned, aborted due to all his flaws.


Til one fine evening on the radar came a ping of solid metal

quickly to the telescope he ran to see what they detected.

Before him was an aero-terror 'nuff to make his gut unsettle

Sleek grey fighters, wild bandits, all their engines fuel injected


Flying, swooping, like a Herring. Hulls that flared with solar glaring,

each one marked with sign and letter, signaling their ranks and files

Some with golden crests of fire, others higher with a pairing

of two silver wings of metal plain behind their painted smiles


He then was knocked onto the deck by that same woman from before

Her unseen strength unparallelled, and sense of duty so refined.

The Hero clamored to his feet, his life saved by this maid of war

He somehow knew there at that instant, he'd fall and not be left behind


Progressively, the fighters fell, and spun down t'ward the earth below

but not before their raiding vessel dropped down lines from high above

The decks did flood with steady streams of zombies moving to and fro.

But she'd not slow, her ninjato, unstoppable within her glove.


Mechanically the blades did fly, her with two swords, him like a stone.

His catatonic state of fear did make his valor come undone.

four times fifty shambling men, their throats releasing sigh and groan,

with heavy thumps, the lifeless lumps were soundly cut down one by one.


"To save your life" his father said, back when he was but just a lad

"You must find treasure all around you, in the eyes of those you love.

For when the dust of battle falls, and all those living feel so glad

The sigh of peace, the nameless dream, will fall upon you like a dove."


All these words then made resounding sense in his gray heart of hearts

The goal of life, the peace of death, all wrapped in lovely ebon skin.

For that young paladin was me, my aim not lost among the parts

And my dear treasured tapestry, Athena, proved to be my kin.


O, Hear the rhyme of this gray paladin

So shining bright, his hammered plate did gleam

He galloped forth t'ward destiny again,

with windswept hair, he sought the nameless dream.

Mechanus cogs as such saw fit to turn.

The steel and brass together spun as one.

The fuel within his heart did flash and burn,

He had a purpose and a race to run.


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Tags: Poetry, Series, Steampunk

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Comment by Slant on November 30, 2010 at 12:42am
this needs a LIKE button!

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