Friday, May 20, 2011

Yay or nay - Limerick

This is a daft little limerick I came up with after reading the massive (and faintly ridiculous) arguments on Guild Wars 2 Guru about the new GW2 engineer class (yeah, yeah, nerdy stuff, I know).
Personally, I think it looks awesome, so there!

Yay and Nay

The naysayers always say “nay”,
And the yaysayers always say “yay”.
But if the naysayers “yay”
And the yaysayers “nay”
Then who can say what’s the right way?


Link to the forum thread for anyone who's interested:
Guild Wars 2 Engineer discussion


Thursday, May 12, 2011

The Cost - more poetry!

One final poem (I promise!) about the death of Bin Laden and whether or not it was worth the cost...

The Cost

What is a man’s death worth?
What dark accountant calculates the sum of his deeds
And weighs it against the lives of others?
A brutal calculus of retribution,
A ruthless equation of multiplied loss.
Untold lives subtracted,
And added to the debit column
But the debt is never cleared.
In the final reckoning,
Can anyone truly say,
That it was worth the price paid
For the sake of vengeance gained.


Note: to give some background, in Afghanistan alone the "war on terror" has claimed well over 2000 lives from coalition forces
Source for coalition deaths

Estimates of civilian casualties are harder to find but at a bare minimum they number in the tens of thousands
Source for civilian casualties

All I've spoken about is the war in Afghanistan. That last link contains casualty figures for Iraq as well, which are substantially worse, but that was just too depressing to talk about.
In summary, war is bad, stop shooting people m'kay

Tuesday, May 03, 2011

Dance for me

This is a (slightly pretentious) poem I just churned out inspired by the ghoulish scenes of celebration at the death of Bin Laden.
Whatever crimes he may have been guilty of, I cannot bring myself to celebrate or glory in someone's death and the scenes of jubilation disturbed me deeply.

Dancing to the Tune

The circus rides into town,
Flags fly proudly in the court of the carnival king.
Cheering crowds, a baying mob,
Begin to dance as the rough music plays.
Primeval joy burns in mindless eyes,
Violent ecstasy for violence done,
Civilisation lost in vengeance’s name.
Bathed in blood, the revelry goes on,
Madness steeped in death, the basest lust,
No room for humanity here, only feral need,
Ghouls made of men, stamping on graves,
Dancing on and on until the rough music fades.


Historical note: rough music was an old English method for punishing people in a village who had transgressed (wife beating and so on).
Wikipedia article on Rough Music