Saturday, August 19, 2006

12. Red Alert

Some of us were odde, in a manere overte.
Oure chiefe of securitie, one Red Alert,

was amonge them. The word 'cautiouse'
myghte describe him, though I’d saye 'nauseous

with paranoya' is nearer the marke.
He was jitterie as a caffeine-rakked clerk

poring overe books whyche do not balance,
warie of comrades and fearful of their talentes.

This was, perhappes, due to how he was mayde;
pricklie with sensores, he was a technocayde

of opticale, kinesthetikke - maybe psychikke? -
and precoggenitive nodes that would highkikke

his minde into frenzie at signes of dangere,
whyche is fyne equyppemente for scoute or rangere,

hunteres eagere to snouffle out trouble.
But as watcheman, the one amonge the rabble

accountable for breake-ins on home soyle
he was an eele with an ytch, a foyle

to his imaginatione. When this was ygnyted,
his hede blazed blue, buzzed lyke a bryghte kidde

in a laboratorie. He once became afrayde
that we planned to kille him, to raide

and ransakke his bodie for spare partes!
Thus convynced, he fled the Autobots

angrilie, and pitted himself against
his own securitie, broke into an enfenced,

welle- guarded compounde to stele a weapone.
But before muche regrettable could happen

he regayned his sanytie, and retyrned
to those, in his deleryumme, he had spurned.

His sinceretie true, the incidente briefe,
we welcomed back the prodigal chiefe.

Wednesday, August 16, 2006

11. Brawn

Brawn, of demolitiones, toughe-knuckled,
who relyshed roughe jobbes and rarely buckled

under straine, but knewe not when to kepe his hede downe
and goaded otheres into charging into unknowne

bataille situations, and was straungely contemptuouse
of the thoughteful, the tactful, the unadventurouse.

Monday, August 14, 2006

10. Sandstorm

Sandstorm! A thrill-seekere, who lyked to get close
to an enemie and gifte him a stinging dose

of thrashed-up dust, or be chased acrosse desert,
outnumbered, outgunned, in a constante blizzarde

of fyre. Anything lesse left him bored numbe,
so hevene knows what, in this age, makes his hearte thrumme.

Friday, August 11, 2006

Holiday!

The Prowl Log is taking a fewe dayes off whyle I staye withe some frendes. In the mene tyme, yf anieone has anie requestes (Autobot onlie at this stayge) let flie withe yore elekketronikke maile.

Thursday, August 10, 2006

9. Sideswipe

Other warriors of whom I shode make note
(lest they vehementely complayne, 'Prowl wrote

not of me, though he thoughte to mentione
soe-and-soe, who does not deserve attentione):

Sunstreaker's brothere, Sideswipe, a rekkeless
but clevere soldiere, who bolstered his rashenesse

with a reddinesse to use anie dirtie tactikke
that came to minde - shot in the bakke, kikke

delivered to shinnes, flare in the eyes, or
pulling downe the blast shielde of your visore.

In generale, a ryghte rough and tumble playere.
Armed with pyledriveres, jetpakke and a prayer

he woulde hastilie engage with the enemie,
with little thought to personale injurie.

Wednesday, August 09, 2006

8. Mirage

The Autobot one was leste likely to see
was Mirage, an elusive, straye entitie

in anie unfolding fielde of bataille.
His sudden appearance wode oftene ratalle

both allie and enemie, coming as he didde
from thin aire, so welle was he hidde

within a shielde of invisibilitie.
He alone had mastered this abilitie -

a trick with photones that, along with his talente
for hunting and kene aime shode have meante

that he was a deadlie, flawlesse soldiere.
Unfortunatelie, he tended to sholdere

a raging homesikkenesse, and grete doubt
in both oure cause and oure ledere's cloute

when it came to ending the warre for goode.
He was also aloofe, and prone to be roode.

As swyche, he was an unknowne elemente
in mooste plans - sometimes entirely absente -

whyche caused some to suspecte treacherie
(though I myself think this unlikelie.)

Tuesday, August 08, 2006

7. Sunstreaker

Of warriors, the Autobots hadde plenty.
Some, in themselves, were worth twenty,

nane moreso than Sunstreaker, a rogue
resplendante in gold veneer. His brogue

was stronge and arrogante as a Lord's,
his style mercenarie, his brusque wordes

oftene scalding, his actions rashe,
but his skill in every bataille, skyrmish, clashe

unsurpassed. His shoulder-artyllery
precyse in clypping back the airbourne fryllery

of the enemie's ruff, his instynct for warre
kene as the edge of a sylver razorre.

But just as a nick, or kinke caused by stresse
would dym swych a razorre's effectivenesse

so too was Sunstreaker made blunte, sore
as a madde dog, snortiousse as a boare

by the mooste pytiful and palest marke
upon his lustrousse bodieworke.

His pryde and artystikke temperamente
extended to his chassis. He spente

long houres loste in selfe-admyratione
(more than he spente at his bataille statione)

and as swyche, was unpopulare,
but, being so colde, did not care.


Monday, August 07, 2006

6. Wheeljack

There were scientystes withine oure pack.
Among them was one Wheeljack,

who was moore scientyste than moost
and relyshed muche his given poost

whych was enginere mechanicle.
He was partiale to maniacle

experimentes with newe weaponrie
of untolde effecte and savagerie,

wich upon him would often backfyre
and blow him down, causing greate yre

to the surgeyons who wode fix him up,
onlie to watch him swiftely hop

back into his blakened laborotrie
to werke on yet moore concoctorie.

An otherwys stedfaste fyghter and brain,
Wheeljack's ideas lyrched betwixt inane

and ludicrose genius. A good teme needs
just swych a wyld fowl hidde in the reeds.

Sunday, August 06, 2006

5. Ratchet

Oure chief doctore was skilled, true,
but hadde little zeale for plowing through

his duties. For though compasionne
he hadde, and concerne, of a fasionne

that byrned lyke a steadie flayme,
Ratchet (for that wasse his nayme)

did notte lyke to waite for eache casualtie
to be wheeled into his surgeyorie,

or count the evere-mounting tolle
of brutal bataille. Ygainst protocoole

he woulde ventuore out into thee fielde
without compaignie, his nyrves steeled

to save what lyfes he thoughte he coulde
through his intereferense. Though shrewde

he wasse not, and anie fronte line
needes a medic who is lesse sanguine

(and whose bedside manere is, welle, more
seriouse - lesse flippante, cokkesure)

he was, without doubte, moste courageouse.
He was not, as he seemed eager to stresse,

through forayes beyonde haven's parapet,
expendable, but quyte the opposite.

Friday, August 04, 2006

4. Ironhide

There was also amonge our compaignie
Ironhide, a veterane most noteworthie

and well naymed, fore his skine was tough.
He was mayde of longere-lasting stuff

than mere metale - of guttes and gritte -
and was stille hardie, and physicalie fitte

at souche an age as moost would kele
tackling moore than a stereing whele.

Shorte of fuse, and not one to showe fere
he was once a structurale enginere

working on bridges, but foughte on oure side
with grete determinatione and pryde.

Being of spirite (but not hearte) so harde,
he was often mayde chief securitie guard

to Prime, and the two were grete frendes,
like two olde codgers at their lyfes' endes,

though Prime wode chouckle, as did we alle
at the veterane's hokie Southern drawle.

“Awe, wingnuttes,” olde Ironhide woulde wale,
or, “I'm tired a suckin' their vapoure traile.”

Thursday, August 03, 2006

3. Jazz

The ryghte hande man to Optimus Prime
was speciale agente Jazz, who, time after time,

displayed a penchaunte for flayre and daring,
even when certayne defete was staring

him ryghte in his unflynching opticale visor
(whyche flashed like a houngry wolf's incisor.)

He hunted by instincte, hadde a personale style
that is harde to describe - a mixture of guile

and enduring coole. Though of everychoone,
there was no betere bot to get a job done.

Straunge that a soldiere who coulde run ringes
rounde otheres should love finere thinges,

but Jazz was almoost as well knoune
for his grete eruditione, and full-bloune

immersione in materes of culture and taste,
not of high arte counciles, but the smalle, displaced

and primitive worldes that our warre scarred.
He had the compunction to staunchely guard

their fleating traditiones. A grete distractione
to an otherwyse reliable mastere of actione.

Wednesday, August 02, 2006

2. Optimus Prime

Our ledere throughout muche of the conflicte
was Optimus Prime. Though not handepikked

for the role, he filled it with the ease
of a polare bere plounged into icie seas.

Muche is writ of his legenderie corage,
his unquyvereing convictione, the grete barrage

of damage he dished to the enemie's morale,
his abilitie to ende all bittere quarrale

amonge his soldieres with wordes of reasone,
his oratione that styrred up more than a frisone

of optimiseme and fyghting spirite.
While it is trouthe - he posessed eache merite -

lesse is sayde of his mooste notable (and noble)
traite: his sympathie, and the endlesse trouble

he tooke to be faire and kinde in alle materes.
Nothing outeweighed this objective. No tateres

of glorie, no smelle of victorie moved him
far from his principeles, and this proved him

greter, to my minde, than a mere generale,
though some believed his caractere untenabale,

given oure desyre to annyhilate the enemie.
There were complayntes he lacked ferocitie,

and was betere suited to something clericale
I wishe I code trouthefully saye, “Not from Prowl.”



Tuesday, August 01, 2006

1. Prowl

Through counteless cold solare systemes
rather than gathere grete wisdomes,

or florishe lyke alle inteligense shode
with arte, music, sporte and faste foode

our rayse warred with a therst that ran depe
and a rage that was insermountablie stepe.

I worked as militarie straitegist
for the Autobot side, who forte to resist

a ruthless tyrante's sustaigned campaigne
to conquere. (He mayde this purpose playne.)

It was moore blakke and wyte than moost warres
and manie civilians joyned oure cause.

So, in trouthe, we were a raggetagge lot,
Oure numbers gretere, oure weapons not.

Of my parte, I wishe to say verie little.
I did my beste. I planned for eache bataile.

My methods were the onlie I knewe
and frequentlie, the optiones were fewe.

I wode onlie dele in nere certaintie
Aniething else - “Sorie. Not this centurie.”

And when forging straitegies I code notte aforde
to see moore before me than a chesse borde

of grete depth, and the repercussiones
of each move, not my frendes, for visiones

were not my forte. Logikke was.
It is for otheres to speke of my flawes,

my faileyores, and perhappes my successes
amidste the clashe with oure oppressores.

And it is otheres I will speke of now,
as alle through my memories I plow.