Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
 Jun 21
Anais Vionet
We’ll hitchhike to mars
on a rocket not a car,
so say your au revoirs.

We’ll steer towards Polaris, the north star
right through the center of the milky-way-bar.
See, the universe is dark and chocolatey.

Stars that glitter like multi-faceted gems,
are just shiny, yellow, peanut M&Ms,
take a handful, if you’d like, they’re free.

We’ll dodge the silhouetted moon,
which is made of enough coconut macaroon,
to make a French confectioner swoon.

As we go streaking, like a comet’s tail,
drag a finger through Saturn’s rings as well,
those are made of marshmallow.

We’ll  pass nebulae made of cotton-kandi,
and here’s a fact Einstein would have found handy,
the speed of light doesn’t apply to candy.
.
.
Ramble on by Toni Jevicky
 Jun 20
Unpolished Ink
Can you hear the stars,
sweet infinite music
the whistled song of the sky as it soars above us,
yes, you with your phone clamped to one ear
are you deaf to the whistled tune of the universe
then you have truly lost connection
 Jun 20
irinia
"You dream of a better day, alone with the moon" (Blixa&Teho)

I want to turn my body into protest, they are killed twice:
by hunger and  by bullets in the middle of  hunger
hatred is an invasive species, mistletoe  in reversed veins
I can see how thoughts fracture in the middle of sentence,  unrecognizable streets pose symmetrical questions
how can this be or is this all that can be
how much patience the pain has
death is like Schrodinger's cat,
it can be simultaneously here and there
a surreal space exists where time can't be saved
an invisible hand recycles genesis, invokes innocent beasts
time doesn't pass through all the layers of pain
some are turned into a certain sky, others into frozen movement, another into the fertile soil for growing wings  with which one cannot fly because the wind has not yet been invented
 Jun 20
Mary Huxley
There are days you look at the mirror,
admiring yourself,
congratulating yourself
for surviving what no one saw.

But there are days—
you sink into the sorrow of the unknowns,
the weight of unanswered prayers,
the silence that grows too loud.

There are days you smile,
not because all is well,
but because you’ve learned
how to wear light even in the dark.
 Jun 20
C Conner
I fell apart when
You pulled away your hand
Now I’m sinking under darkness
In the room I made my stand
So I lull myself to sleep
Under waves that you command

I thought I heard you call out
Just a phantom and a sickness
All alone in the dark now
You know I cannot do this

I screamed so you could find me
I drifted out of reach
In the ocean I created
And my phantom on the beach

Now the room it’s cold and empty
Your songs are far away
The music that you left me
Are distant echoes I replay
 Jun 19
Nat Lipstadt
a gift for Aladdin Aures H
from his 3rd follower...

<>><<>
the inescapable need,
unformed firmament
inquiring; am I capable?

the impulse palpable,
the urge to urgent,
to gorge and disgorge?

instead of morning prayers,
precomposed and ordered,
morning poem plucked from

morning fog, gusted breezes,
early-on, newborn sun rays,
progeny of disheveled skies

words fused, in irregular sizes,
senses censured by drowsy eyes,
but the chest beating arrhythmia

means bursts of free verses
superimposed on reluctant eyelids,
jigsaw puzzlement be re-conformed

and the first poem of the day,
emerges from the intersection
of mind, pale dreams, and the

first is special till the neu morrow,
when fresh bursts explode inward
to windward, and the first is just

yesterday's mesh of hash,
once formidable, now last,
pinned, yellowing, purely a
*descendant of the recent,
but always, ancient past
^
3:07pm
a bright sun grilled day, in a cold June
Juneteenth 3025

on the Isle of, in the piet's nook
Next page