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Morgan Mercury Aug 2013
Pick yourself up and dust off your shoulders
because you're a soldier and have no time to rest.
You can't escape this life because you sold your soul for this
and in the next year, you'll be buried right under your feet, six feet deep.

Will it be your hell?
******* alone surrounded by nothing but chains
for years and years.
Calling out to empty shadows and swallowing dust over these times.

Will it be your heaven?
In the summer of ninety-six
with the night lite up with fireworks on the fourth.
Chasing the sparks because you're a child again.

Pick your feet up and march to the drums of your family.
You promised to always protect your family
and this is all you know to do.
Giving up your life for your brother's
is what you were trained to do.

Your heart is weak but warm.
But you will not be needing it for long.
You find peace in the night
but always keep a candle lit,
to keep an eye on your brother
because he is all there is.

Things can't be rewritten or reversed.
You've just got a confused mind
and acted out of grief.
But you're always able to rewind to the night
a bullet took your brother.

These lifeforms made a deal for you, that they knew you'd take.
They could care less about your feelings.
They could **** without warning,
but you trust them with your brother's life on this one.

So now you stand a man with a deal to die
but it's all worth it because now your brother can live.
Selling your life so he can have his back was the best birthday present
you could give.
Supernatural
Dean Winchester
Jonny Angel Mar 2014
I wonder if other lifeforms
have Twitter & Facebook,
watch You Tube,
or if they are more advanced
& use other forms of social media,
like anti-gravity billboards,
clairvoyant message boards
or mind-implant videos?
Rob Rutledge Sep 2013
There was a blinding light,
Then silence,
Then a hiss.
Air escaping,
Gasping bliss.
Glass shatters,
Shadows play.
A nuke hit the stern,
Evacuate!
No delay.

Days passed,
No one came.
No one heard the message,
No one 'brought the rain'
The solitary escape-ship
Suitable only for one,
Headed forlorn to the next
Inhabited sun.

"Nine thousand, seven hundred light years away"
The computer said in its monotonous way.
"And what of our air,water and fuel?"
"Approximate range is 6.2365r light years,
Will that do?"

"No" he said with a sigh.
Confined to his coffin
Not much to pass the time...

Internal recording 00001// lifeforms:1// life support: 97%
"This is Hal Katurn of the trade ship 'Endeavor'"
"Can anybody read....?"
"It's just me here......
In the vastness of space...
A grain of sand..."

Internal recording 000012// lifeforms:1// life support: 88%
"It's been a while now just me alone,
No contact friendly, or otherwise
In any nearby zone.
The quadrant is quiet....cold..."

Internal recording 000021// lifeforms:1// life support: 67%
"The stars....They....
They look so peaceful...hehe
What do you say?"
"Was that directed at me?"
Said the ships AI.
"Not you, the ones outside silly!"
"............?..........."

Internal recording 000037// lifeforms:1// life support: 24%
"Row...row...row....
Your...mind......
Gently out to space....
Lonely lonely lonely lone
Life is but a race...."

Internal recording 000042// lifeforms:0// life support: 0%
"..............................."


The farmer heard a roar
And stopped his toil for
A moment,
No more.
He saw the heavens fall
And knelt in prayer and awe.

He hurried to the hole left in his land
Where a voice spoke in a language he didn't understand....

"This is Hal Katurn of the trade ship 'Endeavor'"
"Can anybody read....?"
"It's just me here......
In the vastness of space...
A grain of sand..."
A kind of poem story, if you got this far thanks for reading till the end!
Coop Lee Sep 2015
bottlerocket,
ski click &
shoot.

         [empress impressed.]

petrol souls drift the skin & aetherous
of our holy mother lake midday.
by alpine,
lymph node,
spine of glimmering fish;
i never truly thought that love could destroy.

       [to display the paradise boon and boom salute.]

her knife atop the stump.

*

yon machines construct art-form of reservoir (yon being short for yonder),
knee-boarder-boy wake to wake, he wags his tail when he dreams.

        [lakeside.]

tribal the beach: a family drunk on juiceboxes.
rolling rocks. tall boys
& boulders/ bountiful canyon kids
with their beautiful gasping dogs.
****** knee **** and gallop at the foot of a mountain/mound &
sugar ants stomped, longing to empire.

mom bunches her fists into sand
of stolen crag, listening closely for her childhood in the whistle
of a casio conch.
margaritaville will do.

          [to **** or kiss beetles.]

kiss;
the bitty prince.
maintain a steady alliance with all lifeforms and flora.
life is programmed as thus;
algorithm of love.

bright honeydew soaked slabs of wood,
or plank, tabletop treatise.
wet pile of seeds.

young small birds hoard seeds for winter;
teeter into spring;
& upon summer find solace in swift slip-n-slide daylights.
Ronald D'Aguilar Dec 2014
All I want to do is be.
To live as close as I can to free,
and know what it's like to taste, smell, hear and see,
and to touch things that live, like a bird in a tree.
But they are not only birds, things that live and int'rest me,
things that are alive come from the land, air, and sea.
To say one form of life is the best, would be a travesty,
For what can make a bird more alive than a bee?
I draw great joy and comfort from life's diversity,
but not only in difference, is founded my glee.
There are things the same in lifeforms, from elephant to flea,
like how we rush to please our instincts, so compulsively.
But unlike the lustful wants of others, humble is my plea,
to pass this genuine love for life from my own, on to thee.

I want me and thee to be free to see an end to travesty and plea that adversity flee, for we to love compulsively and treasure our diversity, live a life so full of glee, that it will suffice to just be.
“I had a plan for you, my dear;” her whisper ruthlessly pounded at Matvei's overwhelmed senses. His entire environment shifted and trailed off; his vision useless, a muddy smokescreen of shapes and colors bleeding into and breathing out of one another.

“A glorious plan, indeed,” she continued, her whisper becoming the hiss of a rattle snake, then slowly shifting pitch, going through every mode, until it was in perfect tune with the deep resounding purr of a well pleased kitten. Which, as fate would have it, was exactly the creature that had taken a seat in front of Matvei's double. The double, still suspended in mid-air, continued wrestling with his chains and screaming madly at the swirling pool of blood at his feet; the vision of the dogs violence still dominating his feeble mind.

Being so occupied, Matvei's double took no notice of the small black kitten as it lapped at the blood between its long and bassy purrs.

“You're without that precious body of yours these days, Sweet Matvei!” The woman explained.

“Or, maybe you've yet to notice that as well? You thick headed pig!”

Stolovsky's vision returned; he was back inside his body. He was the double.

“How's that, dear? Better?” the blood stained kitten at the edge of the swirling pool purred sweetly.

Stolovsky didn't respond and turned his gaze upward. He saw her for the first time; she was beautiful, ungodly so.

“Clean your head up, you animal! How dare you think of me that way!” she laughed.

Her voice returned to what one would expect from such a beautiful creature; the sweet vibrations of a woman, flirtatious and soothing to the ear of any man.

“I'm flattered, really, but we hardly know each other. At least, you hardly know me. Though, sometimes it is best that way, I admit!” she mused, finishing the thought.

“But, on to business then, shall we?”

“I don't suppose I have a choice, do I?” the words escaped Stolovsky's lips as though they were not set free by choice, but of necessity, by reflex alone.

“No. By the looks of it, you really don't, do you?” the spirit retorted.

“Who are you!?” Stolovsky screamed, unsure if he wanted an answer.

“I wouldn't raise my voice to her if I were you, dearie.” purred the kitten, as if it were attempting to instigate some sort of violent reaction from the spirit.

Those kittens, one must always be wary of a blood stained kitten! It is a thing to avoid, afterlife or otherwise. Be that as it may, the kitten's attempt at being the provocateur seemed to have quite the opposite effect.

“My name is not important.” she sang, her voice continuing to astound Matvei's senses, the sweetest evil you'd ever want to hear.

“You can call me Jehovah if you'd like!” she laughed as she spoke.

“Right now, you are my child, my sovereign property. I can do with you whatever I wish!” she paused for a moment, to allow Stolovsky the opportunity to recognize the gravity of the situation.

He did not.

She continued on, her voice shifting again,

“And let me tell you, boy, you've been a great disappointment! Did you know that?”

The rumbling of her tone, the changes in her pitch, were beginning to drive Matvei mad; he'd never heard anything like it! It was absolutely nauseating.

He attempted to gather himself; this was all so confusing. After all, wasn't he dead? Should he fear this, this, whatever it was? He controlled his anxiety enough to ask,

“What are you?”

“She's your new master, Matvei! And a wonderful master, indeed. You are very fortunate!” chirped the blood stained kitten.

“I believe he was asking me, X. Away with you, you ***** kitten!” Immediately, X vanished into thin air. Stolovsky stared downward, mesmerized, as his double was, by the pool of blood swirling beneath him.

“Am I dead?” he asked the goddess.

“You don't even know what that means, you idiot! Besides, you'll be worse off than whatever you think you are now if you keep asking silly questions. Now shut up and listen to me!” she replied.

“There is someone I'd like you to meet.”

As she said this, it appeared to Stolovsky as though the layer of existence that he had, until this very moment, believed himself to be in full occupation of, swelled outward at an amazing speed. It was as if he'd become as tiny as a quark and yet, he continued to become tinier still. He could see nothing recognizable; the sheer brilliance of giant photons zapping through space was enough to blind him. Even as he noticed this, they became infinitely larger, like suns themselves.

Stolovsky felt as though he were falling through it all, becoming smaller and smaller; or, was everything else growing larger and larger? He struggled to reposition his body. The intense pressure of the experience was becoming unbearable.

He could feel his rib cage sinking, his heart struggling, his lungs collapsing as he desperately clung to whatever consciousness this was that he was currently experiencing. X, the blood stained kitten, appeared to him just as she had been moments before.

“It feels strange doesn't it?” she asked.

“What is happening to me?” Stolovsky replied, struggling with the words.

“You're dying the Second Death. Don't worry, it'll only take a minute.”

Before the kitten could finish the sentence, Stolovsky's eyeballs popped, hurling frozen droplets of organic material in all directions.

The frozen droplets would continue to fly on for many years, some straight through into eternity. A few would be so fortunate as to crash into other, much larger, groups of particles and give rise to some very interesting lifeforms. Who, as fate would have it, would go on to destroy one another, along with one-third of their known universe, trillions of smaller universes, and something that may amount to a shoelace being vaporized in my level of existence, in a great war a few hundred billion years later. But alas, a story for another time.

“Oh, wow. That was much quicker than expected, Old Boy!” purred the kitten, pleased at this unforeseen turn of events. "Dr. Orville will be so pleased to learn of our improvement! I must tell the Master straight away!"

And once again, that silly blood stained kitten disappeared. Things were about to get very interesting for Mr. Stolovsky. The Third Life awaits.
The first part is buried in my poems somwhere...
Patricia Drake Feb 2013
In the dark we form
From the nebula
Of hydrogen and dust
We compress
Under massive gravitational force
Slowly rotating
we increase
In matter
But pressure from others
And our own gravitation
Causes our collapse
We cool down
Emitting infrared light
And radio waves
And we spin faster
As our spin increases
Temperatures rise
And once more
we form
With centrifugal force
A central core
Stable
And a revolving disc
Of future planets
Soon orbiting
Our heat
Caused by the friction of bodies
Makes us glow
Our fusion
prevents further contraction
And begets jets
Intense beams of radiation
For lifeforms to enjoy
Or fear

But we know
That when the hydrogen fuel is spent
This star too
Will begin to die
stargirl Jun 2014
what will become of me when i die?

will my body offer itself up
to the lost, and lonely stars?
or will i spend eternity in heaven
maybe even possibly hell?

will i just decay
in a wooden box underground?
or become a ghost,
and haunt human lifeforms?

when we die,
do we become something,
or nothing?
death is such an interesting topic, honestly. none of know what happens to us when we die
Sean Pope Jun 2012
O! Happy day!
For on this day I find myself
In love with every girl:
In the innumerable masses of licentious courtesans
Parading their every facet,
Every inch of bare supple flesh
Their thread-bare scraps of clothes
Can tastefully expose,
I have chosen a mere handful
That do so skilfully!
And so I act;
Mutilating the leafy genitals of lesser lifeforms,
Pruning them into a pleasing shape
That it might entice them to reciprocate
And replicate;
Presenting to them dashing symbols of consumerism,
Such as ingots of saccharine fat
To please them now
And spurn them later
When they wish to regain their shapely shape,
Or compressed ichor borne of ancient remains,
Cut into a pleasing sparkle
To please their primal preference for shine.
Surely this will win their affections!
O! Happy day!
Aya Domingo Nov 2014
You are the pavement
Cracked,
Spat on,
Walked all over,
Yet,
Lifeforms sprout
From in between your broken pieces
Life grows in you still
Pearson Bolt Apr 2015
twenty-three trips around the sun
just another insignificant planet
crowding a broiling ball of
hydrogen gas in one
of some hundred
billion galaxies

it's hard
not to wilt
by comparison
not even a quarter of a
century and for all i know i could
very well be dead tomorrow buried
three days hence never to walk the earth again

i am an amalgam of every person i meet
each event in this tumultuous tragedy
modifies me just as i alter the
universe with ripple effects
expanding ever onward
out into the cosmic
embrace of the
abyss

squeezed
out like paste
stretched like string
theory across parchment
paper—thin and fragile as i
hope in vain for some semblance
of significance to be lent to me on loan
if i want it i'll have to make it all on my own

but i'm growing older with every passing
moment and i'm not so certain this is
the route i've chosen anymore
i'll still carve my name into
this Earth but not for me
i'll lay down my life not
for my legacy but
for my neighbor
for all those i'll
never get to
meet

not out
of some youthful
idealism or ardent
child-like naiveté but
for an idea that's bigger
and brighter and better than
myself: universal brotherhood
peace and love goodwill towards
all lifeforms with whom we share this
tiny blue dot that we call planet Earth

and while i know i will hardly make a
difference in the grand scheme
of things at least i can say i
died a lion never living
on my knees

instead
i tried to live
my life so *******
brilliantly that even
Death feared to take
me into the nothingness

twenty-three trips around the sun
almost a quarter of a century
i won't let them steal my
hope from me i refuse
to bow to apathy i
stand strong on
my own feet
and say i'm
free
Having a birthday on Earth Day gets one thinking about the planet and its insignificance in the cosmos. If such a gigantic floating rock has no meaning, then our lives pale in comparison. Yet, however inevitable intelligent life may be in a universe with some 100 billion galaxies, each with hundreds of millions of stars, I like to think that there is still merit in choosing to treasure this moment. The entire universe has distilled infinite uniqueness in every organism on Earth. We are all star stuff.
brandon nagley Jun 2015
Tis
Ive got only this one life to giveth,
So I choose to giveth
To mine aimer,
#ea
Milkyboy Oct 2018
Dark is the Well to the bottom of my heart
Deeper than Joseph's cistern in Dothan
Should you try to fetch a water for a drink?
Where moss and mosquitos give life and live.

Shepherds and Herders pass by and spit
Said "its a curse and empty abyss"
Yet mosquitos live and form there families
And other lifeforms here they sleep.

For them its "The Well of Life"
Though its stinks and useless for your needs
Your spit and curses can be there food
Forming new life and birth.

Foul and useless this Well maybe
But someday a Living Water will be fetched
For I heard a One Shepherd who drank and bathed in this pit
He said "I will reach this abyss and pour Living Water in it"
My heart stinks!
It feels so vivid (frequency)

---—---------->>>>>
                
                                    <<<<<<   ------------------------


Constantly thinking every minute. ^ v


Huh **** un be  defferent ?
            
If the NEW sttlyle is toby differant.



If these words were a drug

(  Cough- needle hits arm.  )    


                                               I will never kick it.  


----—--—-———--




Peep the will in me.





Emotional stability.




Responsibility.  ( Freedom = responsibility )




In  Truth  ,  Love  ,


& symmetry. 



My patience...

..........................                          ­--—-----------------------





                             ---------------------



My life After death



Only a lucky few shall recycle my genius.


 The lack of human stimulation



did not amaze him..


Annoyed with their commotion.


Lifeforms


distracted through mixed emotions.

The catacombs. the dead resurfaces  as I write this poem.



This is all expressed to my ocean.

Trust it.

Climb the summit.


Learn to rise above it.


My communication.

My operation.

My construct.




     He had a schizophrenic disease.
I'm NOT SCHIZOPHRENIC.  BUT it seems my disobedience is what sets me free.

Simply put, spelling and grammer are simply
CONTROL mechanisms for the weak minded. It
diverts the TRUE purpose of LANGUAGE - which
is to CONVEY A MESSAGE. The cattle on the other
hand thinks language (due to the concept of
grammar) is some sort of sport, where you get
points for doing things 'correctly' and with 'skill'
and for 'following the rules'.
NO! YOU can say, write, or express whatever,
or however you want to.
Renard Jackson Feb 2016
You are like Water on Earth moving continuously through the water cycle of evaporation and transpiration (evapotranspiration), condensation, precipitation, and then run off, usually reaching the sea to my heart. Evaporation from one and transpiration to another contribute to the precipitation over land(my life). Like Water you are used in the production of a good or service is known as the virtual you.

Safely drinking you is essential to me and other lifeforms even though it provides no calories or organic nutrients. Access to safe drinking you has improved over the last years in almost every part of my world, even though approximately one billion people still lack access to you and over 2.5 billion have access to adequate sanitation.
#visualization #perspective #thoughts
Purcy Flaherty Jul 2021
We are all evolved from the same microbe;
A microbe which evolved into every known species, using just two dozen ingredients; drawn from the same chemical soup.
(We are related to every living thing)

Each and every species is evolving at it's correct / specific survival rate, yet the more we humans progress, the more distance we choose to put between us and our fellow lifeforms; often choosing to alter their evolutionary progress, not for our own survival! but for bit coin, vanity or prestige.
**** our fellow lifeforms; I want a packet of crisps!
Sometimes I walk the ground
in just socks.
So all my socks are made of dirt.

I let brambles scratch
warrior plants attack
It won't detach me from my thirst
for community, unity, passion,
compassion swells.

The rain is welcome here.
It washes me
dripping
clean I am
blossoms realizing themselves.

My oils are pungent.

Sometimes my sisters give me a rash.
I kind of like it.

Sturdy hands
Green-blue thumbs
spur my growth

Bugs like to crawl into my mouth
when I am hungry.

The river takes my pain downstream.
It sheds glass
as I shed.

And you
gleaming from afar
Your silky grace
sips my spine
licks up my mind
and spins me into
timeless lifeforms
awaiting
          the lightning.


Sometimes.
Lover of Words Sep 2013
I feel like over chewed gum,
Dried and loss of flavor I've become,
I'm a broke rubber band,
A piece of string with no purpose,
And I'm hanging on by this tiny piece of thread,
clinging onto the mouth of my bed,
A loose tooth,
Wanting to be set free,
Yet holding on with it's hole entirety.
I'm a broken frame, a car low on fuel, and I'm breaking into two different lifeforms,
I am halves
Ninny's Narnia May 2015
Rocket-ship footie pajamas and stars from the galaxy on his bed
Running 'round the yard with a fishbowl on his head
He'd stutter the names of the planets and stars
with no desire other than to walk on Mars.
The boy created his own ship:
cardboard box, crayons, and a paperclip
3
2
1
BLAST OFF
The roar of the rocket drowned out his nemesis' scoffs
Days, months, and even years past
His big chance was here at last
He looked upon Earth with shock and awe
A bluish green dot was all he saw
Distant lights and strange color specs
No sign of alien lifeforms to detect
Everlasting darkness engulfed him
His life-long dream is actually quite grim
With the stale taste of toothpaste food
His heart sank with the lonely journey he had pursued
He longed for his loving mother and his dog
He'd had enough of the Milky Way's fog
He pined for the place he had aspired to leave
That blue-green dot forever he'll cleave
With a homesick feeling he reached for the throttle
Unfortunately the fuel was at the end of the bottle
With tears in his eyes and hopelessness in his chest
He decided to try a deadly quest
With the last of the fuel he blasted his jets
It was his last possible effort and he had no regrets
With a million to one odds;
He had to contribute his success to one of the Gods
He hit the atmosphere and exploded in flames
Busted the cardboard and ruined all of his games
The boy rushed back to reality
Relieved he didn't reach his fatality
Exhausted and satisfied
His adventure had only just been outside
Looked upon his fishbowl that now had a big crack
The little boy decided his journey warranted a snack.
nivek May 2016
some lifeforms would **** and eat you
lions, tigers, alligators....
but mostly life slowly kills you
and the longer you live the closer you come to death
brandon nagley Jun 2015
Morse code proofreaders
A type face to many covers
Dialect's go to many tongues
Many get old
Behind enclosed encounters!!!

Sensual time Desiree's
Moans louder
And louder

Achromatic lifeforms
Are all Blisses to me!!!

Tabernackles of keys
Wherein dark dungeons
Thou shalt confess

Adornos adobes
Good for tribal success!!!

Amrinones
You'll need from her to kick start thy playful heart
Wherein keepers push buttons
And buttons play all parts!!!

Koolaid mixes
Tingle with pleasure zone scores
Where board makes board

Four score!!
Young Soda Sep 2014
conventional vocation
on carnival with the night
shadows cast from each rotation
lifeforms move too quickly
pointless repetition while they advance
real complexities lie far in the distance
far in the deep black expanse
scattered with millions of diamonds
go the extra mile, for instance.
far past our mindless reach
Rob M Jun 2013
I've shouted questions at the sky-
Hard ones, nearly unanswerable-
hoping against hope that somewhere,
Something might answer.
I've screamed until my throat grew
hoarse from the effort,
and stared up,
waiting-
wishing-
begging
for some kind of answer.
A sign.
Anything.
But there was only silence, ringing
deafeningly over the black expanse.
The stars went on shining as they had before.
It was then I realized.
The Cosmos doesn't care about me.
The Cosmos has cares of its own-
Forging stars and galaxies from dust;
Compressing the very essence of time into
unimaginable singularities;
presiding over the evolutionary cycles of
innumerable lifeforms.
Why would it care about one,
comparatively insignificant life,
on a world teeming with it,
in the outward spiral of a
galaxy very likely filled with other life.
It was then I realized.
Maybe I should look out for myself-
find the answers I seek on my own,
give up/leave behind my fear of the unknown,
instead of expecting the answers to be handed to me.
It shouldn't be that easy.
Noe Pineda Aug 2014
Has it ever mattered?
The words that were spoken
Like stars falling from the sky
Straight into my esophagus
I regurgitated them into new lifeforms
We called them love and trust
But for some reason they acted more like
Deceit and broken promises
So I have to ask
Has it ever mattered?

— The End —