Cire Luey's Utopia Factory


Welcome, children of all ages!


to Cire Luey's Utopia Factory!

I am excited

so electric --

I have invited you,

yes, specifically YOU

to tour my grand factory!

Come, come now

don't be shy!

This building was made for you

as an experiment of what we

humans can do!

So without further ado,

come in, come in!

Our first stop on the tour

is the Homo Village.

Hey, don't snicker!

That's not what this is!

We all come from the genus "Homo",

it's Latin for "Human".

Now, this Homo Village has citizens

of various ethnicities,

melanin shades, and identities!

All are neighbors and brothers...

with each other.

We've hit a snag, I must confess --

please, PLEASE

don't touch her headdress;

don't mock his routine;

watch your microagressions.

I won't be held liable for any violence. You see

these Homos, though like you

don't like you.

They've agreed to give as good as they get --

provide them respect, and you'll be welcomed;

poke and tease them, well, at your own risk.

You are outsiders

and though I vouch for you,

I will not protect you... we will lose

some of you.

So grab your belongings

and your severed pieces

while we head deeper into the factory.



This room is the Government Room:

the elders of the Homos congregate here

and determine policy.

Between you and me,

there's a bit of disruption among the ranks.

Certain tribes in the village

feel disenfranchised

and there's a well-known rumor

of corruption and lobbying.

As Deus Ex Ambassador,

I have offered my observations

of political refreshment or dissolution,

but I have been respectfully assured

the model is perfect --

it's the Homos that are flawed.

The elders blame the tribes,

the tribes blames the elders,

along with intragroup conflicts.

Please, don't sneer or roll your eyes --

whom are you to judge?

Have you seen your lives with

fresh, visiting eyes?

Now come along,

there is more to see.



Here is the Education Room,

where little Homos learn

reading, writing, arithmetic,

everything they need to participate meaningfully

in tribal society.

They also learn science,

history, politics, and basics of economy.

These... aren't as important, I think.

The little Homos show little interest

in subjects like these.

A small minority are completely enamored

and pursue secondary education,

acquiring specific tribal recognition.

But even these gifted little Homos

develop specific interests

and display understandable indifference

toward 'useless' subjects.

As ambassador

I have played voice for the offspring

expressing the facts as I objectively see them.

The parents look to the elders,

whom created education policy

and the elders disagree, respectively.

"These are well-rounded curricula,

to ensure our young grow mentally strong!

They need these skills to participate meaningfully!"

When asked if they, themselves,

remembered any elementary science

there was an uncomfortable silence.

Finally, one elder spoke up:

"Why is science important to government?"

The irony was lost in the roaring agreement,

and demonization of educators

for failing students...



Speaking of Homo economics

we're entering the Economy Room!

Here, the masters of major Homo markets

conduct business, away from the Homo villagers.

In this room, cost of goods are discussed,

currency changes hands,

markets rise and fall.

The Homo economy is modeled after

laissez faire capitalism...

in theory.

In practice, however...

certain major markets

that employ many Homos

received public funds

to cover some bad 'investments'.

The elders agreed the decision was sound

to save a market and many jobs.

When asked how this decision settles with laissez faire,

respect was dropped

and I was told to 'mind my own business'.

Again, I was discouraged away

from critiquing the system --

it was the Homos' fault; SOME Homo's fault.



The last room,

I openly admit, I am ashamed.

It was never my design

to include a prison.

The elders broke me down --

they persistently claimed

the criminals needed isolation.

I argued criminals only exist

in the presence of a state;

by this point,

the Homos no longer hid

their distaste of my observations.

"Without a state, chaos reigns.

Shall we revert to brutish


No Homo would accept

that neanderthalensis

was most likely intelligent...


I built this room to harbor

the worst of the worst.

"Not those whom are found worse than you, nor

those whose very existence may be worse for you,

or your interests."

But my warnings and objections went


This room is full BEYOND capacity.

Judges are found accepting kickbacks

for passing harsher sentences

on disenfranchised Homos.

Yet, despite this corruption

the Homo justice system is under no

investigation, with no impending reform.

This room... has no purpose

other than profit, and enslavement.

It seems you are the last ticket holder;

maybe you could fix this mess.

Your eyes lack confidence

but your heart beats


I have faith in your purity --

it reminds me of my own.

Join me in my elevator

as I show you to your throne.





Written by: Paula and Kaleb.

The year was 2076, and even though humankind was supposed to be more “evolved”, this couldn´t be more far away from the truth.

In 2055, Doctor Frank Mellow made the greatest breakthrough in the history of science, a promise for eager couples to assure a great future for their children. They called this “genetic engineering”.

It consisted in parents choosing exactly what traits they wanted for their unborn child: both physical and personality aspects.

As every innovation in this world, it wasn´t received very warmly by society, but as more couples tried it and were able to see that their child was exactly of their choosing and completely healthy, more and more people were convinced that they wanted their children to be good looking, smart, strong, basically, they wanted  perfection.

Dr. Mellow got nothing but praises and positive fame, until the summer of 2068, when everything started.

The first phone calls were from parents that were worried that their children was presenting “abnormal” behavior.

Things began to escalate quickly as the calls began to get more and more serious. Parents contacted him horrified because their sons/daughters were suddenly moving things without touching them, disappearing at plain sight, randomly levitating, among a bizarre list of things.

Dr. Mellow knew something was wrong and immediately convinced his clients to take their offspring to Mellow Labs. (his company).

All of them had only one thing in common: they were incredibly rebellious and surprisingly aggressive, which lead to Dr. Mellow having to take drastic measures such as sedatives, several drugs and even sometimes physical violence to make the tests on these kids.

Their cells were evolving in an abnormal manner, this kids´ DNAs had changed dramatically in just a short period of time, Mellow was shocked and knew that these kids could be a potential danger for the world.

He made the parents sign a contract stating that the kids had to stay at the headquarters as long as the investigation was proceeding and they were allowd to visit them as often as they wanted to.

Mellow had to keep all of them constantly sedated, because the minute they regained consciousness they would turn hostile and he wanted to save the long and complicated explanation.

Some kids lost their lives due to the amount of drugs that were pushed into their systems. People were losing their minds, but there were a selected few that became immune to the drugs and realized the cruelties done to them.

When the parents visited them, they used another type of drug for them to act “normal” to keep suspicions out.

In 2076, Francis was 21 years old, he was one of the first genetically engineered babies, and was one of the few who grew immune to the sedatives.

He saw that some people who were in the same condition as he was, and when they complained they were taken to some sort of room, and he never saw them again, so he decided it was better to just pretend to be drugged all the time.

When his parents came to visit him and there were no guards around, he told them the atrocities that were committed in that place, and his parents thought he was exaggerating and that they knew Mellow’s intentions were good.

He planned it all in a time lapse of a week, he needed the guards to be unarmed, which was usually the 3 pm drug visit. His superability was telekinesis. He knew what he wanted. He wanted Mellow dead.

Francis opened the door and deactivated the security cameras.  He liberated all of his partners and head over to Mellow´s office. He opened the door and he was there.

Just by looking at him, he knew Mellow wasn´t a sane man, he had the same grim look that many of his cellmates had, burned out by all the drugs.

When he looked at him, with the angriest and most determined look on his face, he left out a nervous laugh.

“DO IT! I can´t live with what I’ve done” yelled Mellow.

Francis made a half smile. “No, that would be being too kind, you don´t deserve that”


He opened the main door and let all of his cellmates free onto the unknow world, that had drastically changed on 8 years.

These individuals were dangerous and their brains were completely numb to any kind of empathy, they wanted revenge, and the target was: every human.



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My Utopia

I wake up in my bed

a place where it seems made up my head

A place where I am accepted

and thought was not intercepted

Those who complain and shout are silent

Hesitate and think before breaking violent

and love is returned once more

Without an abrupt end, to come to a slammed door


Where we can all come together

Despite our difference and faulty weather

We can believe

That we don't have to be alone, we can acheive

Without getting attacked, tied down and hit

Forced and not to stand in freedom, but relentlessly sit

Where we can be working as a team

Doesn't this seem like a perfect dream?


Where I sleep, and say it's okay

To those who struggle within the night

To those who hide within the day

But the glass shatters once more

An undesirable light becomes shone

Breaking. Disturbing. Injuring.


My once calm world

My utopia

Is only a shadow

That mourns behind me of society's constant unrest and complain

and leaves my heart shaken and torn, and leaves an unwashable, unforgettable stain.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Originally, this was a class assignment.

Where Are We Really Headed?

Where are we really headed--
Divisiveness and hate?
Or some Orwellian classroom
That's sponsored by Bill Gates?
The cults of 1960s,
More drugs, more love and wars?--
Where are we really headed?
What are we living for?
A multicultural prison,
Where everyone's the same,
Where we are merely pieces
In politicians' games?
Where are we really headed?--
A heat wave or more cold--
And will there be more rebels
Turned cynics when they're old?
Where are we really headed?
A workers' paradise--
Where fellow PC comrades
Spew forth the party lines?
Or is it Armageddon
That we're waiting for?--
Forget your student loans
And knock on heaven's door?
Where are we really headed?
World government and porn,
Where we don't need both parents
In order to be born?
Where we can be repaired
With spare body parts,
Where urine and manure
Are still considered art?
Where are we really headed?
I really want to know--
Where are we really headed?
Will we evolve and grow
Beyond black, white and yellow,
Red, brown, blue and green--
Or will we still be worshipping
Some stars in magazines?
Where are we really headed?
Just open the door--
Forget your education
And learn to live
Once more.


September 2, 2013

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"Dreams of Heaven"

by Jeph Johnson


roll me out of bed
before the alarm sounds
without a stigma
attached too profound
nearly Nirvana,
almost anxious,
suddenly Shangra-La
this daily trauma,
supposed to take this
after all I saw?
a dream holds on
even after
consciousness emerges
I've seen the dawning
of what haunts
my very best urges
responses to Heaven
seem almost agnostic
taunting contentions
Christians and skeptics
and my mind
explodes again
worrying whether
blurs forever
needs a slap
and yet

Author's Notes/Comments: 

circa 2000 

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