One of the best ways to absolutely nail the climax of your comic arc is by using foreshadowing. It’s like planting little breadcrumbs for your readers—tiny hints or clues scattered throughout your story that point to future events or a character’s big moment. When done well, foreshadowing ...

Rush hour veins. Heaven or heathen?
Will the electric pulse ever find peace? Even for a moment
Ongoing trains. Bettered or beaten?
Will the kinetic swing ever be pleased. Where’s the atonement?
Computer chains. Tether or treason?
Will the genetic soul ever have ease? Even for a moment.

There is nothing more humbling against human hubris than Nature herself.

Even at humanity's peak expansion, technology, sophistication, education, or intelligence, all it takes for its eradication is for the earth to sneeze in just the right way.

Nature cannot be beaten or tamed. It can only be appeased ...

Sound-proofed, but still aloud
Some say I make thunder, others cloud me mute
Still Alone, but in a shroud
Some will walk me by, others crowd me mad
“So when will your world arrive?” Quote one mind.
Deadborn, but still alive

We are finally back with interviews, and who better to kick it off than with Genejoke, one of the most prolific, helpful, and active creators in the Duck!

Genejoke is invaluable in many group projects, including our top event, the Drunk Duck Awards, and its side event the Red Carpet ...

Lights upon a fading sky.
Whipping the night to encircle the dead
Blocks are talking to your I.
Curve them a wave and encircle them red
Joys comes dancing you goodbye
A smile so wide it will encircle your head.

NaaN (Now, always and Never)

There is a poem by one of the most interationally famous Greek poets, Konstantinos Kavafis, called Waiting for the Barbarians. I invite you to give it a read (I've linked its translation) but here's the gist in a nutshell: It's about the Romans waiting for the Barbarians ...

Event horizon. The faintest stroke of the rosey dawn.
The end of time or so it sounds.
Clawing, scratching and crying to abound.
Here it comes the future drawn.
As my past self gives its final yawn, please, no funeral mound.
Let the belly of the wolf be my final ...

If there is one thing my comic partner and I have realised these past few years is this. The first half of the year is manic for us. Every year we get together to inscribe our goals into stone and within two months life has bulldozed its way through them ...

Your heart’s beating inside the hourglass
Orbiting your soul system it comes to pass
Begging for a new season to amass
Alas, white shadows still lasts–shrinking
But the earth is now drinking and the silver shifts to brass
Your heart’s still beating in the hourglass.