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By and by Man will try
To get out into the sky,
Sailing far beyond the air
From Down and Here to Up and There.
Stars and sky, sky and stars
Make us feel the prison bars.

Suppose it done. Now we ride
Closed in steel, up there, outside
Through our port-holes see the vast
Heaven-scape go rushing past.
Shall we? All that meets the eye
Is sky and stars, stars and sky.

Points of light with black between
Hang like a painted scene
Motionless, no nearer there
Than on Earth, everywhere
Equidistant from our ship.
Heaven has given us the slip.

Hush, be still. Outer space
Is a concept, not a place.
Try no more. Where we are
Never can be sky or star.
From prison, in a prison, we fly;
There's no way into the sky.
Twalib Mushi  Jul 2018
My song
Twalib Mushi Jul 2018
You are a beautiful song
Beauty enough to turn me on
Forever you make me strong
With your flawless melodic tone.

You are my favorite song
I keep in my heart and singing
To this hard life as stone
We better live before we're gone.

You are my cradlesong
Soothing me as I lie down.

You are that metallic song
With fine drawing body of verses
I dare to keep you long
With those tenacious, beguiling chorus.

You are my song
I constantly reiterating
Only glancing at you
I don't need playlist on you.
st64  Feb 2013
Alien Welcome
st64 Feb 2013
Alien, welcome art thou not
Depart anon, hence.
Move along now, clear thrown
Thy like's not recognised!


**** saps, with heavy mortal curtain
And suffer their dismal, moral drapery
If only universal context was embraced
So much would harvested rewards be to fit.


But this roundabout lack of courtesy
Somersault delusions fall too cruel
Heavy price exacted; red and spitting moon
So telling on bedraggled souls.


Thy disheveled mind has trod so wrong
Thy mien shod in disrepair; sadly unsaddled
Gorged thus, on fawning ego-laden charges
Thy glutted, overgrown web may implode.


High-handed claims to own such elements
Whose power canst be wield by none!
These petty trips inside the mind
Merely trifling paper boxes rattling on....


Whip away the welcome mat
And shut the door abrupt
Close the windows of the keen spirit
Deaf and blind to soft rain upon the earth....


Cradlesong swopped for craichy flags
Go then, hoist high thy boastful banner
Whilst, all the while, the world will watch
See thee teeter, totter in disgrace.


Yes, the alien has felt the hand of slights
Do spectres then, have not emotions, too?
See the fruits of thy blighted labour:
And this soul now softly tiptoes out....



Star Toucher, 20 February 2013

— The End —