Fortnight

Black Pearl

Spectrum Wave Publishing

Copyright@2026

Believe it or not—

She was our backup main switch.

Lady Liberty, asleep in her oxidized skin,

a silent statue with circuits within.

Her torch, a dormant sun,

unlit… yet the current had only just begun.

Fortnight.

During my graveyard shift,

as I looked over my shoulder,

I have noticed that

Something ain’t right.

The system fired the

Coast guards, and

, the dispatched team

Like mainstream media

Survival somehow

vanished vessels

No press release;

There goes our

anonymous tip.

Fortnight

Something ain’t right,

Who the hell turned off

the torchlight?

They killed the beacon,

dialed down the glow.

Unclear,

no knock

warrants,

Wrong house,

Imaginary summons,

cease and desist,

any foreign born

No entrance

From Lady’s borders.

She plunged the harbor

into a deeper low.

Turn off the lights,

light,

light.

Fortnight.

Something ain’t right.

Who the hell authorized

shut off all the lights?

A dead men, whom were once head leaders, including his exiled Saxon Linage all climbs out,

not from soil, but from a signed decrees.

They rose from their litter box of history,

out-foxes some with paperwork and dread, but not all.

Not the voices in the tread.

They inserted their souls, possessed into Sandman’s head.

Similar as Frankenstein,

Dead men’s bodies made his power come alive again!

Now, no one’s safe here.

This is the sweep:

Pandemic.

Psychological.

Spiritual warfare, buried deep.

Whenever Sandman’s agents come around,

their ink is black, their purpose crowned,

all of them are gonna scar her towns.

They move in daylight, suits pressed sharp,

drawing borders in the dark.

Cowards have the nerve,

after violation against our first rights—

with bullets landed. A woman, a frozen chord

in Minneapolis, a melody abruptly scored.

In Los Angeles, before the ball drop

( 12/25/25 )

Say his name ,

For millennial 26,

A man’s celebration—a silenced tambourine—

thankful for life, in a routine scene.

How the hell was joy the crime, met with blights?

It was totally unnecessary.

Cuffs of code, wipes of screens,

Pepper sprayed,

guarded chains in data streams.

They think the fight is neat, contained,

a ledger sorted, pre-explained.