First Quarto - SCP Foundation

A collection of sonnets based on different SCPs.

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2999/1903/1619

006-J

The Architect

The temple now is slumb'ring in its sprawl

The dark of night has taken it upon

But growth can yet succeed within its walls

And rooms within continue yet to spawn

Does wood not crack if alterations made

Continue so to do while it does wake?

Do tiny Buddhas ever truly fade?

And hallways moan, and bones and teeth do break

To craft the yawning caverns of the god?

A frozen earthquake, trapped within the mud

Always growing, shifting where we trod

To craft a place of worship dripped in blood

And later when the lives and walls can't keep

I wonder, will we remember to weep?

Star-Eyed Child

She cannot see the dark inside her eyes

A film, in day, that eats the world within

The horror that the blackness does imply

Does not reflect upon her gentle skin

A child yet, a flower not yet grown

A bud attempting sight unto the world

But even here, ensconced among her own

She cannot try to even come unfurled

She only sits and stares, her eyelids gone

And never even really there to start

The curtains to her solemn mind are drawn

Her eyes, reflection, lonely counterpart

And yet within, below the membrane lies

Her galaxy, a heaven in her skies

Season Opener

In darkest room a researcher sits still

Rewinding on the Motorola box

To watch the 'faithful' execute God's 'will'

Proselytizing vainly to their flocks

"What makes a man descend so far below?"

He wonders as he presses pause to stare

Bathed in the television's bright blue glow

To watch them, fans still dimly unaware

That nothing will allow them to escape

The hellish nightmare of this picture show,

This prison cell, this never-ending jape

That lost its comic timing long ago

But who'd have thought a basketball's long arc

Can mirror us truly within the dark

Pesterbot

Destruction is its one prerogative

But fate has doomed it to a life of want

Its threats become merely declarative

Without the weight behind to truly daunt

It tries on names like different kinds of hats

Attempting to find one that truly strikes

Fear into hearts of men, those bureaucrats

That treat it like a toy that's meant for tykes

But deep within it burns a heart of flame

A thirst for blood that's never been compared

Yet locked within a body that's been lamed

Its only comfort never truly there

Those empty threats are all it ever had

And in the end that's really rather sad

Cross-Dimensional Barbershop

"Did you know, boy, this shop used to be full

"Of barbers, not just me, a massive fleet

"Of men with gel and deft fingers that pull

"At curls and kinks, voices raised to greet

"The men who came to us, with coins in hand

"To ask us for our willing expertise

"In all things follicle, to make them grand.

"Surgeons, lawyers, corporate types, police,

"All came here to Giuseppe. Now, they're gone,

"Absconded," he said, glowering past me.

The bags below his eyes belied a yawn.

"A handful left, perhaps a score, and thee."

His accent was too thick for me to grasp

"It was fun, once," was all I heard him rasp

Deus Ex Machina

We live our lives in quiet discontent

But safe among the rambling lies we weave

About how we've protected our ascent

To afterlife, and yet we thought to leave

A ranger station, quiet in its place

Among the geyser's roaring waterspout

Concealing network hoping to replace

The world that we can learn to do without

A hidden comfort we cannot learn of,

Despite the fact that it would bring us peace,

A magnifier of the dang'rous love

A counter to the promise of release

But in the end, with blackness ending yawn

I bet no one will even know we're gone

The Black Cat and the White Rabbit / Jackie's Secret / Site-45-C: Floor 24

Oh, listen close to humming in the air,

The disk drive, like a flitting moth, awakes

And spins the empty numbness it can spare

From lines of code that slither through like snakes

The party's in full swing now, and the lords

And ladies in their grandeur turn to watch

The cat among them, slowly drifting towards

The center, now devoid of all debauch

But even masks can't save him now in this

Emaciated form, he tries to tamp

The feeling grown of dread encasing bliss

He's wond'ring if he should have asked the lamp

A sharpened mind's no match for rabbit's claws

Our Sarah isn't here now, never was

WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT THING

Do living creatures not deserve respect

No matter how upsetting their visage?

Maybe. Perhaps we all need to reflect

Upon the thin genetics, and the bridge

That draws us close together, us and them

(Disgusting though their many legs may be)

The tree of life has crafted many stems

And good or ill, entwined with them we see

Them only through the crystal glass I wield

To capture them, release upon the earth.

The index card's a flimsy sort of shield

Protection that we've borne against since birth

Yet tender love for them—oh no, it fell

Oh shiTTING FUCK, IT'S ON MY FACE, OH HELL

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