Away amongst the dappled sky
You see me racing swiftly by
And harken to my engines cry
The heavens ever speeding nigh
For thrust will push me swiftly high

Tis skyward that I fly!

The jet stream takes me rapidly
The form aerodynamically
To the place I mean to be
A bullet shot from barrel, me!

So fast a blur is all you see…

To lofty places I ascend
The constellations to befriend
And through the space which has no end
I strike the fabric, make it bend

Before spacetime itself I rend…

I land in distant years behind
My eldest kin I hope to find
For in their strength they’ve become blind
A warning have I in my mind

“Beware, the future is not kind…”

And when my purpose here is done
They hear my mighty engines run
I launch once more toward the sun
My sonic blast, all hearing, stun

Like bullet shot from smoking gun!

Then back through rift I must return
Slowing by my retro burn
But soon a dreadful thing I learn
A comet speeding struck my stern

Stranded now, defeat I spurn!

For though my state is more then grave
Tis home my soul doth wholly crave
And so a plan I start to pave
A burnished sail my life will save

For I can ride a solar wave.

Now close to earth I soon will be
Approaching far too rapidly
For burning is my craft, yes she
The one who swiftly carried me

Crash! I plunge into the sea.

My ship is recked but I survive
Drifting eastward half alive
When to an island I arrive

And on said place, for life I strive.

Then after months of living there
Illness I take through lack of care
But then a ship, tall sailed and fair
Picks me up, off island bare
And gives me drought of spirit ere

Death claim me or age hoar my hair.

And when I am safe home at last
Infirmity from me I cast
Recalling engines mighty blast
My journey to the distant past

And galaxies rushing toward me fast!

I write it down, just how you read
And tell it true to all who heed
And now conclude, for I am freed
With brand new rocket, lightning speed

What a wondrous life I lead…

Dedicated to my beloved spaceship Scarlet Thunder, she has brought me safely as far as Venus.
#adventure   #time   #stars   #space   #story   #travel   #flight   #speed   #rocket  
The Dybbuk
The Dybbuk
15 hours ago

An old man walks the earth,
he fears nothing but terrible God.
His cane is beaten, his eyes are blind,
He is nothing but broken and flawed.
His knees are weak and wobbly,
His face was carved with pain.
He comes to a fork in the road,
Beneath the pouring rain.
Each path is equally pleasant,
To eyes and ears alike.
He hears the bustling tavern,
He hears the lightning strike.
His feet are tired of walking,
He knows he won't have long.
He sits down at the fork,
And sings his final song.
He takes no further paths,
He starts to see the light,
His son takes up his cane and pack,
And veers off to the right.

#death   #journey   #old   #travel   #wayfarer   #traveler  
Laura Enright
Laura Enright
1 day ago

Something made me think of you
while on a late-night train
I suppressed a smile while by myself
I shouldn't think about you again

As we rattled into our first stop
I thought of our first kiss
the carriage was warm but lonely
like you, on the Dublin to Galway express

We trundled on to station two
you crowded my head once more
I reminisced on our second summer then
when you used come to my door

By the time we arrived at station three
my thoughts were bitter and shrill -
you'd taken my heart, I'd forgotten that part
and leaned in for the kill

Before my stop, the train broke down
and grinded to a halt,
giving me time to reflect on what I used call 'perfect'
things that are now, undoubtedly, faults

Once the train started up, my mind was clear
as a summer Sunday sky. I alighted the train,
as it moved on in the night,
I saw
that so had I.

#love   #heartbreak   #night   #young   #breakup   #journey   #travel   #train  
2 days ago

Valencia Oranges
A yellow coated dream
Swimming in a sweatshirt
Watery-eyed and rosy cheeked
Music playing faintly
Curiosity is peaked
I imagine waking up
To humidity and cream
In my coffee, jingle my loft key
As I walk my way upstream

Sunglasses tint
All the oranges red
Valencia enters my veins
Rouged and widespread

Motivated to find
Driven to seek
Not present
In the Here and Now.

Martin Bailes
Martin Bailes
3 days ago

'73 ... '74
oh, 16 or so,
a news headline
in that conservative
of newspapers
The Daily Telegraph
engaged me,
'Hippy Camp in the Himalayas
Broken up by the Police'
or as close
as I recall,

& from that
moment on
my ambition
was clear,
my future

Dad might
have preferred
college or
a decent job,
but heck
no ..
a hippy camp
in the Himalayas,

& as soon as
school was over
off I went
on the
Magic Bus
to find
a home.

Bom Shankar
#travel   #india   #hippy  
maggie W
maggie W
4 days ago

When will I see you again?
It may be this fall or many years after.

When we reunite,
I want to take the metro with you to D.C. again
Just like we did last winter minus our bulky attire
We would still converse fondly with the volume that
The old man frown upon but can't complain.
We would still intertwine our fingers affectionately , and you would still rest your hand on my lap.
But this time,I'll put my head on your shoulder.

When I see you again,
I'll take you to Ted's Bulletin
They have the best brunch in town
You would still add some extra ketchup on your omelette,
We would still order something to share.
But this time you're not in the rush to head back.

When I see you again,
We should go to Cuba and some tropical isalnds.
To Italy and Spain
I'll introduce you to Michele,
My Italian friend.

When I see you again,
We could go to Baltimore,but no
This time I'm not here for Oriole's game.

When we reunite,
We would do everything,
But this time,
We will fall in love with each other and
No one,no one is leaving again.

#love   #relationship   #travel   #dc   #reunite  
Ed Coles
Ed Coles
5 days ago

I have come a long way.
Those endless nights spent clouding the mind
to a comfortable blindness
where I did not have to witness
the war at my own front door.

I have come a long way.
Locked in fear I could not communicate
with my foreign tongue;
learned that good company
was the mere salute of open arms.

Learned to swallow breath
as I once did pills, booze, and cigarettes
to find that patient calm.
Chemicals promise anaesthesia;
only pain is left when supplies are gone.

I have come a long way
from the departure lounge,
staring at heaving grey skies
and contriving a paradise
no one could hope to find.

Walked suicidal through
tourist-lit streets of central Bangkok.
Half-drunk I wondered why
I continued to breathe;
why my heart refused to stop.

I have come a long way
from believing happiness
is a steady state you can attain
through time-lapse images of victories
and failures you forgot.

Fell in love with an older woman
who would sleep beside me
when she could not see her son.
Through nights of sex and amphetamine
she would sway through each melody

even when the meaning was lost.
Taught me how to speak Thai in the moonlight,
left food on the handles of my motorbike
when I was too hungover
to face the day.

I have come a long way.
Travelled 6000 miles to learn
that home  means anything
from a constant pleasure
to some happy accident.

That love is not pillow-talk;
it’s the rain on the windshield
that gives shelter from the storm.
That truth is not what you hope to find.
but the words that you meant;

fractions of yourself
you could never leave behind.
I have come a long way.
I have made love in enough hotel rooms
to tell you the ashes of yesterday

can be both the aftermath of a flame
you cannot replace
and the fertile ground
to change your name
and start over again.

I have come a long way.
I am still my worst enemy.
Every day is still a fight;
each moment filled with darkness
when I cannot see the light.

I have come a long way.
Stood brave in the entryway
of every opened door.
Made a toast for all the people I could be;
all of the people I have been before.

Timothy hill
6 days ago

You are as raisins you clean persons blood.

Life in full sprint high resolution and great details.

Once, grapes of green now a purplish black.

Your drees drapes the wooden floor white oak

Of food as poem.
#love   #passion   #art   #summer   #calm   #travel   #session   #sessions   #heroes  
Martin Narrod
Martin Narrod
7 days ago

Heaps of her across the deserted plains, oily fingers reaching up and over the horizon until all of the numbers fill her pockets, her father worried, and her muses covered with goat-head's thorn. Where does she start to fuse her needs with the weapons in their suburban corolla of lilacs and wanton redolence? It's the opacity in her finger nibs and the dozens of names she felt closing over her legs sideways, until she awakens in the night to take the blood dripping cotton tissues off of her face, off of her bed-side dresser table. She can't even paw forward or undress her wetness in haiku. Everyone she knows doesn't know her. Everything she's seen, doesn't seem to be there for her anymore. That's the trade they told her to barter for, the golden seals and vitamin needs she's gobbling up by the palmful every morning by seven.

Seven for the circus or the mimes, seven for the cloves hanging from the door and seven for the queries that strike back her abcesses and cost her seven by the quart and seven for the plastics. Seven dancing backwards towards a rook or a spade, seven inside her chest playing guitar with David Bowie, seven at the doggerel, and seven for the stitch and the obtuse- only a creature of seven might go for her, in a spot of doves, crank, and soda it is poison, seven is her panty line, her sexuality, her sinfulness, and her latitude over and over again. Seven makes her want for tomorrow, seven takes tomorrow and throws itself up against the wall, pledging a game in the summer, seven to a trip of caramel and dukes, seven for the prince and the painting of the two of them, seven for the winter, and for the shadows that stretch curiosity past the breath of a summons', seven for the day and seven for the evening, seven scratches her ears and pulls out her hair, seven is the ring and the blue phantom buried somewhere far, far away, green is what's left, but seven knows which way the rain comes and who is going to follow it through.

There is a numbness that radiates on the fringe, a tickly discomfort not even a narrator could let out or down to a name on the mountains near the nude plateau that conquers her nuance, and shakes the both of them to core of the fight. This is not a flag that costs us in coins or in dollars. This is the worry chiseling our shapes and our buttery hips, a stacked set of crazy in a photograph off the leash of only a few. And it calls them to the night when it's only three of us left, until every cord is untied, until every verb is set in its caste, or ringing out to the tremolos of rapture, and the musicianship of pepper-jacked sneezes in the ambers and umbers that although startling, we've all learned to convert our averages in order to swing under the storm, and baby each of us with an elixir of myriad captures, images, and violent abuse.

While the words can yield, and the festivities can hoard each of the simple new experiences against travels of women, and pictures from Mussorgsky riling up soft drinks and evocations towards the center where all of us sometimes will let ourselves, let loose. Something horrendous and cold plugging into the sugars, something quiet, nearly a friend of reminders, crustaceans and ocean making this top-down beach of faces for all to shake and roll with or set forward a cacophony of abuse. Until in a breath she calls for the infinite intuition sheltering her and our window from the pain of misuse.

That is the photograph where we have been looking to live, here is the memory we spent our minds trying desperately to relive in the shade and in the snafu, against the bark and the piano keys treating our rise. Within our skin and our pupils, our silver bookends and/or the mammals we don't use names for but for whom we've been introduced to.

#truth   #words   #ghost   #desert   #memory   #save   #house   #travel   #collection   #penguin  
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