The Orbital Review
The Orbital Review is a literary journal under Orbital Press that delves into a wide range of topics. Featuring insightful book reviews by D.J. Hoskins, the journal also includes chess analyses, personal essays, reflective pieces, and poems, offering readers a thoughtful blend of literary critique and creative exploration.
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Bastion - Chapter 4
Water ran steadily in a hush. Ebbing in a stream through the tunnels. Walking over wavy metal, the sewer pipe was caked with rust and debris. Worn industrial belts, shredded tires, fragments of split concrete, alongside rebar sat gray beneath a pale light.
Desire To Hide
When I hold back my energy
it is as if I’m robbing another
Of my thoughts
Of my insights
Criticisms, point of view and dull perspective
Gust
I feel my story is one of triumph and expectation. The expectations were a call to adventure, a challenge to start on the journey of a thousand miles, despite the bloody callouses that have accumulated on my feet.
Why Is Artificial Intelligence So Scary?
Artificial intelligence is the ability for computer systems to independently develop strong frameworks, knowledge bases, and ideas whose complexity surpasses the understanding of human experts in a singular or multitude of fields. However, what does this mean exactly?
Chained To Life
I am chained to life
Tethered by the weight of family
Tied down by expectations that never end
Master Of Art
As a master of art,
You do not belong to yourself.
So You Want to be a Genius
If you want to be a genius, they’ll use you like one. It may be better to live a simple life and portray yourself as useless so as to prevent yourself from being used. What is a genius but a vessel for creativity?
Melancholic
I am an ebb of melancholy. It is sweet like lemonade, then sour like squeezed juice. It doesn’t help that I enjoy the sound of violins. The agonizingly slow rise and fall of their tunes fill my room in gentle serenades. My heart brims with their emotion and pours into my books. I am endlessly inspired, and yet I feel immortally quiet.
Drifting
it is boredom that plagues me
and haunts me
and follows
in day to night
Literal Thinkers
It approaches again
the seed of doubt
the rain on my parade
the insinuation that I am not right
that I cannot write
and tumble as I please.
Old Joints
Breath. The air fogs in the autumn air. My eyes flick and watch it swirl and then be blown back into me. The vapor dissipates, and I blink slowly, wondering where the time has gone.
The Walking Dead
And I am battered and criticized
My limbs ripped apart —
Torn flesh bleeding from my corpse
bones shattered, splintered,
dripping with blood
Institutional Level Scams
“The higher you climb, the harder it gets.”
At this point in my life, strategy has begun to fail me. I’ve fallen for traps, ambiguous legal snares, and institutional sieges.
The Twin Left Behind
Fingers passed over the smoothness of a doorknob and, clutching cold metal, turned it. Light flooded in to blind as Luna stepped out of the restroom building and onto the grime of cracked concrete. Red brick crisscrossed in a myriad across the low building’s outer wall, sprawling vines of ivy splayed along its sides.
Finally A Rat
It happened, they finally got me. Sitting here, no beer, full of fear…
In my little cubicle, scurrying to and from the bathroom. Acting like I’m making a difference, changing things, going somewhere…
Ivy Welcome
and my mind is in the state
Of processing
like a frozen computer
Overwhelmed and flooded
by a hurricane of information
Restart With Knowledge
He wishes for self-sabotage
A do-over, a new beginning before
the sudden end.
Brightly Burning
I am Icarus in silence
it is my skin that is burning
as I stand in the light
climbed too high
Daggered Intellectuals
And therefore I must walk back to the beginning
Back to my beginning
And retrace my steps like a dancer
Reintroduced to walking
Castled Girl
Poor child in the castle
Poor child flying high
she is cloistered and sheltered
and hidden in walls