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In this post: Writer’s Update, Dystopian Poetry, Color Me Weird
NEW! Writers Worth SubStalking at the end.
Writer’s Update
I turned 50, hit my personal deadline, and managed to get my third book out there. But enough about me already.
Moving from Systoics…
I’ve moved on to the second arc of Hush Halo. The first arc was about Systoics, the group of one percent who chose to integrate with technology and, at least in their minds, remove all problems and discomfort from their world. This was a twisted but sleek realm filled with musks, bilyeus, palantirs, theals, altmans, and their peasant court.
…to Neurals
I have started working on the second arc, in which I write about Neurals. A group of people who, for whatever reason, chose a different path and decided to stay in the dopamine trap we have only just begun to understand. But because it’s dystopian, it’s a next level of hooks, attraction, connectivity, lust, and control. This is so different to write, and I’m super excited about it.
“This is pretty cool Sam. I share your concerns about what we’re exposing the AI to, and whether or not we are abusing or corrupting it sending it our worst thoughts or needs. Your world building intrigues me big time.“
Dystopian Poetry
I have some unpublished material from Hush Halo’s first arc that I want to share with you this summer, at least until I get some new material out. This poetry really isn’t pretty, polished, or sunny, but it’s real and somewhat true to this time. Let me know how you feel about these three poems here.
You Trusted Me Harder
You didn’t threaten me.
You trusted me harder,
took my capacity as consent,
filled me with wound-opening promises.Every sacrifice that passed through
was evidence
I could surely handle
just one more.I learned too late
how easily faith
can be aimed back
at the person
who offered it.How unfair it is
to turn loyalty into a weapon,
to let devotion do the damage
so your hands remain clean—while I bleed,
still believing
in the trap
that caught me.
#S2050
Calling My Bluff
It waits,
hands in pockets,
watching
what I choose
after I say
I’m done.Just a consequence
casually catching up with me—calling my bluff.
#S2030
Ache for Destiny
The most dangerous thing?
Realizing
you were never meant
to be fed here,
but to keep you
wanting more
long enough
to mistake
your ache
for destiny.
#S2040
©Samia Oldman
Color Me Weird
Consider this for a sec. I sell more blank square notebooks on Amazon than I sell poetry books. Yet, surprisingly enough, I’m still more motivated to create more weird poetry than blank square notebooks.
What do you make of that?
Writers Worth SubStalking
I have made some cool friends here on Substack, who I’d love you to connect with:
Christopher Gulledge who has upleveled the creator experience by building an interesting hub for Dear Future Overlords.
James (HVR) who doesn’t hold back on the effort when supporting fellow writers.
Nicole who is super busy with her moving project, but never too busy to boggle our minds with clever writing.
Nick Hills and Lyrics and Fire who have taught me so much about consistency in writing. I have miles to go and will never catch up with the Masters of This Universe.
Special Thanks ♡
Dystopian poetry is not the easiest art to spread around. Special thanks to Jeanne Vessantra, Kate, Layla, ThePoetGatherer, Alicia and everyone who has dropped a comment or shared my posts recently. I’ll do my best to pay it back or pay it forward.
I’m honestly floored by you all. ♡
WHAT IS HUSH HALO?
Hush Halo is a dystopian sci-fi poetry collection set in a near-future shaped by technology, silence, and optimized perfection. Each poem is paired with a unique soundscape created by poet, in Suno. Learn more in Square One.
Context: After the Great Optimization, a privileged group integrated into the system, believing they had now perfected themselves.
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Love it! Color me weird too. Copywriting is what pays the bills (for now) but fiction is where my heart is. And this is great stuff. Love "you trusted me harder." Such an interesting concept.
Awww. I'm worth Substalking?
That made my day.