Will your creation remain alive in your world, growing in understanding as they experience new ideas? Or are they as stone, with fixed mind and demeanour? What of the antagonist, that person who would oppose your will? Upon which disfavoured relative will you base that undelightful character?
Written just before our 2019 general election, this poem mercilessly rips off an original that I have always loved. The references won't mean much to non-Australians unfortunately, but it is what it is.
The lies grow like weeds, with falsehood's seed spreading on gale force winds born of righteous indignation and mischievous desire.
They assured us that everything would be fine, as long as we kept buying what they were selling. They couldn't have been more wrong.
I figured I'd better stop reflecting on life's unfair developments just as my pad sent a tingle into my left arm. I lifted the pad and saw a big red triangle, an indicator I'd only ever seen once before, flashing madly on it. Orders!
I clomped over in my best parade ground style, or at least a respectable imitation, and clanged to attention with a sharpish salute. I was exhausted and may not have been quite up to book standard. So sue me.
The plant life is also enthusiastically carnivorous; it's the only way it can sustain the growth needed to survive. As a result most of the animals here are much bigger, faster, meaner and more intelligent than anything you might come across on Earth. Those that aren't bigger are even faster, meaner, and much more intelligent. If they can't make the grade? They're lunch.
Old men, steeped in blood. It doesn't touch them but they are drowning in it.
I like fairness and equality. Each generation knows their level of technology and with a will to learn can figure out that of their ancestors and progeny.