Saturday, 17 February 2007 By *CAPTAIN_AUSTRALIA*Fast forward to the past.
THE SOUNDS OF SUCKHOLE
Hello dullards, my old friends.
I've come to talk with you again.
Because a vision softly creeping
Left its seeds while I was sleeping
And the vision that was planted in my brain
Within the sound of suckhole.
In restless dreams I walked alone,
Narrow streets of cobblestone
Beneath the halo of a street lamp,
I turned my collar to the cold and damp
When my eyes were stabbed by the flash of a neon
That split the night
And touched the sound of suckhole.
And in the naked light I saw
Ten thousand people, maybe more.
People talking without speaking,
People hearing without listening.
People writing songs that voices never shared,
No one dared
Disturb the sound of suckhole.
"Fools," said I, "you do not know,
Suckholes like a cancer grow.
Hear my words that I might teach you,
Take my arms that I might reach you."
But my words like silent raindrops fell
And echoed in the well
And the people bowed and prayed
To the suckhole god they made
And the sign flashed out its warning
In the words that it was forming.
And the sign said
"The words of the prophets are
Written on the usenet walls
And blogger halls
And whispered in
The sounds of suckhole."