… meme from the upside down world.

Another sixth mass extinction meme. There are sure to be many more of these and other thoughts, and passions, about “THE PREVENTABLE DEATH OF HUMANS, MAMMALS, AND MOST SPECIES FROM THIS PLANET”

oberyn martell the environmentalist

If looming Extinction doesn’t wake us up once and for all, the actual extinction will put us to rest once and for all.

Cersei as Mother—Oberyn Martell’s Lost Poetry: A Game of Thrones Extension

This poem displays some of the incredible foresight Prince Oberyn must have had, as how eerily true so much of this rings. I thought it was an appropriate time to post it given the state of things in King’s Landing…

An ode to the most odious, mother

I wish I had two lives
one to kill myself and unravel your world
and one to keep alive
watching your ruination, mother
on things coldest the white walker king pales
compared to you the white stalker queen
the northern paralysis is antidote
to your boiling septic poison
the white walkers count you in their ranks
you are bodily allied to their cause
your brain not a factor to anything
your split ends are also your prophecy
the giant minion can murder all but you
because death already runs your blood blue
you give birth to new mortals just as would a plague
the lust others hold for you is misplaced and vague
the hand that feeds is the hand that bleeds
parental is not a parent, in case it’s not readily apparent
already with six I give you the seventh bowl
I have forever tattooed my name inside of your soul
this deep scar will prove to be the shallowest on you
once I have inflicted all my tortures back to you, mother

Twelve and Five—Oberyn Martell’s Lost Poetry: A Game of Thrones Extension

As the de facto posthumous editor of Prince Oberyn’s written word, here is another untitled piece that I have warranted as relevant enough to publish for the readers’ intrigue. I have chosen the title “Twelve and Five” for referencing sake. The origins and reasons for Oberyn’s motivations on this work are unknown, save perhaps the small bit of evidence of some ink spilled on the right side of the parchment, and the bottom five lines were written in a larger more exaggerated form than the others.

words without power of tongue are not said
words thought but not spoken turn inward, as dread
all that lives should bleed love or bleed red
absent these two states a body sinks, already dead

if not ready to bed one is not a true friend
in the throes of another does awakening spend
before breaking an enemy is one’s own bend
death to life is only superficially a confusing blend

in this world outlooks tend towards a dull bleak
out of this world more vibrant planes we seek
but either here or there, outlooks are for the weak
for it is in-looking strength that builds its own peak

combined with the lives of wee onlookers beaten so low
what happens on Westeros makes for good show
the sorrows of a knife conspiracy against a lead crow
left bleeding enough to melt the beneath him snow
does make greater emotional impact than one they know

love poem fragments—Oberyn Martell’s Lost Poetry: A Game of Thrones Extension

Though a man of the free spirited and polyamorous Dornish culture, Oberyn’s sensitivities to other cultural practices often shines through in his work. Such is the case with this broken-transcript piece with a theme of enduring love, of which 12 lines are legible and printable here. It is unknown whether or not it was written to a specific partner Oberyn fancied. 

together we’ve had trying times
ripening with no small sorrow
but we’ve put down roots deep
that will grow a bright tomorrow

love carries our spirits to a wordly plot
of leaf filled trees that cast shadows not
that allow in the sun but not the maddening hot
nor will the new growth be allowed to rot

within you lies the kindle of my fire
an unceasing love that will not retire
and welled within me roams a desire
that only through you will it ever aspire

Clubbed by Shamballa—Oberyn Martell’s Lost Poetry: A Game of Thrones Extension

A bundle of parchments came to me in the month’s after Lord Tyrion’s mysterious vanishing from imprisonment in King’s Landing. Based on my deft skill to decipher various styles of script, I am forced to conclude they can only be from the Dornish hand of his vanquished champion—the late Oberyn Martell. The individual poems range in atmosphere from being quite festive to quite dark and disturbed. I’ve decided to release them slowly, and to begin I thought I should choose one that Oberyn seemed quite euphoric about, considering the content and the rapidity at which he scribbled it down; to add some flavor to your read, I’ve provided the inspiring song below. The moths whisper to me that Oberyn was quite the glow stick on strings raver…

Clubbed by Shamballa

Sounds background that moans drown out
This past night tuned me in
With all my emotions displayed about
I know not with which to here begin

I felt break over me such a wave
A rush so complete, so full
Last night in this torturous sex cave
Leave me whores! for at last I am lustful

Never could I imagine, or anywhere foresee
In this dank capital city I so loathe
To meet here this one truly unique beauty
Sublime vibrations I want now to betroth

As the DJ introduced this gem so rare
I immediately looked up and met his eyes
He gave a message in his paralyzing stare
“Soon you’ll behold dragons tearing skies”

I took at full value his knowing glance
And prepared myself for a journey as none other
I began to bodily worship by way of wushu dance
And all my enemies swarmed about as brothers

The melody developed complexities further along
My consciousness drifted to all of Essos swaying
Dothraki taking down dragons alone by power of song
A single red priestess parting oceans, arms splaying

The gods dare not interfere to slay us
As we mortals grab at this evolving new life
Born amidst the universe in a spiraling chaos
Trance is proving to be the eternal midwife

Gods leave existence as deeper freedom emerges
Sacred ancient orbits of circulating blood and stars
Are at the mercy of our intense unbound animal urges
Prisoners freed as iron melts to make puddles of the bars

No battle can I any longer fear to lose
For this song cultivates axiomatic warriors inside
Though now different battles shall I choose
Of a higher order justice, and not mere pride

Shamballa destroys Westeros at every level
Along with all of its foul play
One does not just listen and revel
Shamballa raises the sun a new day