Others promised
to fill your eyes
with stars. Only stars.
But I will populate
your mind with galaxies,
complete the space
with swirling clouds
of asteroids and
black holes to swallow
your sadness. After all,
stars are obviously bright
and beautiful, but alone.
I will help to discover
somewhere within yourself
the need to create
constellations of us,
where our myths
and morals intertwine.
You and I and our
moments, syzygy.
Gravity only exists,
so we can fall together
but still weightless
to see that our mass
doesn’t affect our matter.
How stars collapse
under their own weight,
fading out, is so unlike
the way we expand
amongst the cosmos,
heavenly bodies of ours
joining the rest in the halo,
interstellar where I will
cascade over you, a pulsar
radiating waves of energy.
These shockwaves form
a singularity of us,
with no time or direction
but we know what we are;
a meteor shower for those
still simply Earth bound.
Gazing into the sun, they
promised stars, blinded.
Blinding, our explosion
of formation from nothing.
Let there be planets
where beings flourish
and evolve, and I will
gift you their moons,
the craters filled with
dust of my words hidden
where no winds can
ever disturb them.
They promised you
stars, so you can become
a satellite and orbit
and worship their light.
I will give myself,
a supernova, and you
will learn to craft galaxies
so I can explore them
within you, and revel at
the beauty of the unknown.
Our universe won’t fit
in their telescopes.


**V. K.

Tomorrow, fate might find me
Tomorrow, I could live in bed
Tomorrow, I might find my true love
Or regret all that I've said
\Yesterday, when I was looser
Yesterday, knew why I wept
Yesterday, so cold and lonely
Oh! I'm glad it's finally spent
\Today is now, and when it finds me
Hopefully, I'll be with you
Today is now, and never lonely
Now that I am beside you

I just got off the phone with my Act
We're going to try and get together
But before we can achieve that major feat
I desperately need to check the weather

Cause if it is to cloudy
My Act won't dare go outside
And if the sun is shining to bright
My Act says that he's too white

Don't even mention raining
My Act hates when he gets wet
Says it takes to long to dry himself off
Plus he could shrivel up till there's nothing left

And if the temperature is too hot or too cold
That could really toss the batter
Guess when it comes to me and my Act
We'll have to get together later

No more lies
no more fake ****
no more hate
The old me is dead
the new me is ...
completely honest
One hundred percent real
More apologetic
more understanding
more loving
more forgiving

Im sorry

In these times it takes nothing
more than a ray shining
through a window to
ignite the flames of war.

Those lying talking
heads who play on your
emotions while sticking
to the script and dishing
out the fears.

The Politicians who guide our fate
and ship our young to fight in
foreign wars in far away
foreign lands.

Our leaders are like small children
upon dangerous weapons.

And death rides with them.

Or you, father, pointing down to a Sicilian harbour ―
its dark pincers compressing an eye-glass
of water

Or my skin, watered down by a lifetime out of your sun
yet thick and dark through our blood’s long curing
in white light

Or your silhouette, insect-strange on the black breast
of a Northumbrian hill, our kinship of shape lost
in the white flood-down
of summer

Or that sequoia glade whose green we drank: a tall glass
where dark sank as heavier spirits do, and stirred leaves
made a white effervescence
of sunlight

Or you, black and white, slumped in that wicker chair
mourning your father, steeped in a kitchen’s shadowless
fluorescence, toe-caps scuffed grey
by the glare

Or rain, elsewhere, as white horizons laddered with dark ―
rain as fault-lines slanting the light ― till, here, resolve
the first cold drops, steaming on your curved
back of earth

Mario Petrucci from *Flowers of Sulphur

Waste no time
Please