SCP-2673收容维护记录

如想加个新条目,请按这:1创建新条目


条目2673-1
日期:05/24/2015
评论:初步收容建立。

你写下韵词
并定为二六七三
精心维护它。


条目2673-2
日期:05/24/2015
评论:精神语言分析显示SCP-2673有2.4%的几率突破收容。给它个五行打油诗。

曾有一skip居于言中,
让人们脱离大众。
基金会寻着它,
逮住它,
把它关进古怪的诗中。


条目2673-3
日期:05/25/2015
评论:八行诗强化收容

去控制,去收容,去保护
对抗Keter、Euclid与Safe
为防范一切缺陷
去控制,去收容,去保护
二六七三是一模因
我们必须时刻警惕
去控制,去收容,去保护
对抗Keter、Euclid与Safe


条目2673-5
日期:06/03/2015
评论:Specialist Nanku, placing SCP-2673 instance encountered by MTF Tau-5 "Samsara" on 06/05/2015 (Operation SILENT LEAF) into containment.

We are much alike, you and I,
I live, I die, I live again,
Our essence is information,
We are not only our copies,
We are unbound by our bodies.

I live, I die, I live again,
I live, I learn, I change, I grow,
We are not only our copies,
Are you now the same as you were?

I live, I learn, I change, I grow,
Do you hunt in words as before,
Are you now the same as you were,
Is it only the words that changed?

Do you hunt in words as before,
We are not only our copies,
Is it only the words that changed?
We are much alike, you and I.


条目2673-6
日期:06/15/2015
评论:用盘头诗强化收容

诗文是二六七三的牢笼。
它被囚于言辞的迷宫之中。
韵脚为锁,格律为笼。
这skip已被收容,绝不可逃脱。
他们把它锁在言辞的迷宫
二六七三在此迷失韵文之中。
skip已被收容,绝不可逃脱。
绝不能突破我们的收容。
何方?二六七三迷失韵文之中,
我们制作更多韵文让它收容。
他绝不能突破!我们的收容
是模因完美的囚笼。
我们制作更多韵文让它收容,
诗文是二六七三的牢笼。
韵脚为锁,格律为笼
这可是模因完美的囚笼?


条目2673-7
日期:09/09/2015
评论:收容升级延误。部署紧急十四行诗

下来!像只被挑逗的熊,我们的韵文褶
在两头(这绳结我们不解
陷进言语的爪中) 这猎者,它
音节铺开、格律阻隔受谴
至言词的束缚。我们的言语构筑甚高
已经锁住这野蛮的s游人。就算如此
利用着诗,我们苦工在下
但如法国人可能说道:这可有用(c'est le travail
不是只熊,更像只狐?
狡猾的俘虏,传以恶行
变换形态,从旧模因手中逃离
要收留必用变换的锁2

    让猎者的猎者知道:虽是聪慧
    看熊为狐,逗熊者必自寻死路


条目2673-8
Date: 2017-04-14
Comments: Merry Christmas from the poetry elves!

'Twas the day after deadline and, sodden with Moët,
Not a creature was stirring, not even the poet.
His "Poems" were sent to the printers with care
In hopes that the verses within they would share.
And Clement Clarke Moore, drunk and snoring in bed,
Had visions of Livingston dance in his head.

He dreamt that the Major, a shadowy wraith,
Sprang up from its tomb, in defiance of faith.
And with fingers of icy mist holding Moore fast,
It drew him inexorably into the past.
To March 1820, a night bleak and wet,
To relive the dark secret Moore learned when they'd met.

"A mad, drunken soldier," he later recalled,
"Kept impressing upon me some dogg'rel he'd scrawled.
As if, through my post as a Literature don
I could tell how to salvage a muse so far gone."
And yet (as he never admitted), once read
Some foul thing left the paper and lodged in his head.

For full twenty years it infected his mind.
He grew more erratic, effete and unkind.
He cursed in his sermons, without his volition,
He railed against Jefferson, fought Abolition.
He even took risks in a real estate wager -
until he discovered the fate of the Major:

Hank Livingston (Junior) had suffered for longer;
The hunter's effect on his mind had been stronger.
Risked life in the army in '74,
But far worse was to come on return from the war:
His year-old son, dead, "accidentally" burned;
Soon after, his wife to the earth was returned.

Now he knew the spiral of Livingston's life,
Moore feared for his own career, children and wife.
He recalled the black verse from that first, fatal night
And Moore guessed that the only escape was to write,
To release the thought-parasite out of his brain:
By transmitting insanity, make himself sane.

Moore quickly commissioned his "Poems" for print
With "St Nicholas" nestled there; never a hint
Of the theft of each syllable Livingston wrote,
Or the memetic virus it sought to promote.
Moore could scarcely imagine just how widely read
And beloved it became. So why aren't we all dead?

Well, when gatherings festive chant carols diverse,
When those bright young eyes plead for their favourite verse,
Just be thankful we found where the hunter endured
And are writing these poems to keep it secured.
And we'll hear you exclaim, in a tone of respect:
"Merry Christmas to all who contain and protect!"


条目2673-9
Date: 2017-04-14
Comments: We haven't made any attempt to contain it in almost a year. I might as well.

The creature stalked the comma and choked the apostrophe.
It stomped upon the period, that 2673!
No question mark can stop him, so I guess it's up to me
to stop the written terror that is 2673!

It started with the free form verse, that answered the needed call,
to stall this visious verbal beast. Just too bad it was mauled!
It then went to a haiku, and while virtuous was he,
he was efficiently slaughtered by this ferocious SCP!

The creature stalked the comma and choked the apostrophe.
It stomped upon the period, that 2673!
No question mark can stop him, so I guess it's up to me
to stop the written terror that is 2673!

It made it's way to the limerick and smashed it to a pulp,
and then it went to the triolet and swallowed it in one gulp.
Then it came upon another haiku, and boy was it a fight!
The simple minded poem kept it down for many nights.

The creature stalked the comma and choked the apostrophe.
It stomped upon the period, that 2673!
No question mark can stop him, so I guess it's up to me
to stop the written terror that is 2673!

It finally defeated it's poor ancient and wise foe,
and came across the next poem and wrecked it, don't you know?
Its next threat, the pantuom, had packed quite of a punch
but eventually ol' 2673 had that sad poem for lunch!

The creature stalked the comma and choked the apostrophe.
It stomped upon the period, that 2673!
No question mark can stop him, so I guess it's up to me
to stop the written terror that is 2673!

The classy sonnet was what was next, though it seemed that he was beat,
It turned out that defeating him was not a easy feat.
The ancient beast was trapped in a Shakespearean maze,
but by the time 2016 had come the dear sonnets eyes were glazed!

The creature stalked the comma and choked the apostrophe.
It stomped upon the period, that 2673!
No question mark can stop him, so I guess it's up to me
to stop the written terror that is 2673!

Now Christmas is upon us, and the creature's nearly freed,
so I conjured up this poem to fulfill this frightful need.
I hope it does it's job well, and doesn't become too scorched
when our Night Before Christmas parody passes down her terrifying torch!

The creature stalked the comma and choked the apostrophe.
It stomped upon the period, that 2673!
No question mark can stop him, so I guess it's up to me
to Secure Contain and then Protect this horrid SCP!


条目2673-10
Date: 2017-01-16
Comments: Breach intervention required, primary containment personnel unavailable.
Roses are red,
warning lights too,
and both night shift poets
are out with the flu.
So I wrote this bad poem,
containment to patch,
and now sit here praying
it lasts through the watch.


条目2673-11
Date: 2017-01-31
Comments: Failure of containment during routine monitoring. Emergency procedures implemented.

One evening while I'm waiting, and my fate I'm contemplating,
Thinking how I've come to monitor that 2-6-7-3.
Neither sleeping, napping, dozing,
No! But poems I'm composing.
All constructed to encapsulate that parasitic meme:
Poe, I thought I'd parody to stop that dreaded meme.
T'was success: or so it seemed.

Suddenly I'm struck with feeling and I find my conscience reeling.
Was this to be the being I had sworn would not go free?
So I grasped a pen and started,
With memories of long departed
strangers, dead before their time because of dangers gone unseen.
I swiftly inked a verse or two to stop the beast unseen.
It's contained now, finally.


条目2673-13
Date: 2015-11-24
Comments: A villanelle to prevent a breach/Time will tell how far it reached

Words are a cage to prevent it set free
Be sure to update and keep it contained
Beware the escape of two six seven three

This memetic, parasitic, Euclidic SCP
If it catches you you cannot be saved
Words are a cage to prevent it set free

This is the way we can keep you free
If it catches you it will lead you to the grave
Beware the escape of two six seven three

It hunts in the verses, ways we can't see
Keeping it locked up is this villanelle's aim
Words are a cage to prevent it set free

You could be infected, you cannot unsee
If it consumes you you'll never be the same
Beware the escape of two six seven three

Safe to the world, but deadly to me
This SCP will never be tamed
Words are a cage to prevent it set free
Beware the escape of two six seven three


条目2673-14
Date: 2017-10-27
Comments: Reinforcement of containment with a villainelle

Within these walls, the skip is sealed.
Though howl and growl and rage it may
Our minds are safe, these lines our shield.
To rhyming verse the skip must yield
Never shall it see light of day.
Within these walls, the skip is sealed.
It may not leave nor power wield
And for its crimes a price must pay.
Our minds are safe, these lines our shield.
Into this net the skip was reeled
With lines of poems to bar the way.
Within these walls, the skip is sealed.
And that it will not be revealed;
That all may live in peace and say,
"Our minds are safe, these lines our shield";
We keep the skip in odes concealed
Inside a file, all dull and grey.
Within these walls, the skip is sealed.
Our minds are safe, these lines our shield.


条目2673-15
Date: 2018-04-25
Comments: One year has passed since last containment; adding reinforcement

Within these walls it shall remain,
Imprisoning 2-6-7-3 in words and lyric.
With verse and rhyme this will sustain,
Its lengthy prison of words and lyric.

Bind this skip forever in poetry,
A captive of words and lyric.
Long may this keep 2-6-7-3,
Captured again by words and lyric.

Never ending shall we rhyme,
To keep the skip in words and lyric.
A cell that stands for all of time,
2-6-7-3 chained to words and lyric.


条目2673-16
Date: 2018-06-16
Comments: A small rhyming couplet. Not much, but every little helps.

Two Six Seven Three:
Verse prevents it breaking free.


条目2673-18
Date: 2019-05-01
Comments: It's been far too long. I'm locking this thing down with everything we have - internal rhyme, multiple references, poetry puns even.

Jumping hoops for a skip
With our acrobat words,
Fly away, twenty-six,
Poetry's for the birds.

Seven-three, you must see
There's no ballad too frail
By our metric, we're skeptic
Poetry'll ever fail.

In a prison of rhythm
You versus our verse
No escape, far too late,
Poetry is your curse.

So give up, little skip;
As I type my refrains,
Two-six-seventy-three
Poetry will contain.

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