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Wayne Wysocki Aug 2018
spaceX dragon flies
upward to the space station
cargo delivered
jack of spades Feb 2017
I don’t want to be an astronaut.
The thought makes me feel small.
I want to be an alien,
something to marvel at;
I want to be new and exciting and out of this galaxy.
The problem with believing in Vulcan
is the fact that we can’t even get humans to Mars.
How will we find somewhere else
when we’re confined to our own solar system?
We barely know anything about the depths of our own ocean.
The universe is still expanding but Andromeda is crashing
into the Milky Way at the most excruciating rate.
Why do we let ourselves think so small?
Where do you see yourself
in fifteen years?
Fifteen years away from here.
How do you major in dreaming?
How do you achieve
financial stability
with daydreamer words?
The problem with believing in Mars
is the fact that it has been thirty-seven
years since we touched the moon,
thirty-seven years since we let ourselves believe in touching the stars.
I don’t want to go to the International Space Station.
I don’t want to go to Mars.
I don’t want to stay in this solar system.
I want to take the distance of thirty-seven rotations
of Earth around the Sun,
and stretch the miles, square them,
multiply the kilometers by tens until
the astronomical units start adding up.
Only then will I know that I have gone far.
But how do you get SpaceX or the government,
to fund a mission
to explore new worlds,
to seek out new life and civilizations--
How do you boldly go
where no one has gone before,
when every penny is going
towards building a wall?
The problem with believing in democracy
is that we haven’t seen its true form since Ancient Greece.
How can we strive for unity
when we
amplify the voices of genocide
and silence any movement forward?
The problem with believing in progress
is that history repeats itself,
and we can’t see it until it is too late.
The problem with destroying our own planet
is that we don’t want to push out into space.
The problem with being human
is that I can’t seem to ever learn my place.
The problem with being a dreamer,
the problem with being a poet,
the problem with being an artist,
the problem with being a writer,
the problem with breathing:
we are going to have to pay for air,
because oxygen and nitrogen
will be precious commodities with an overflow of carbon;
because argon and helium will be all gone without medium;
because while green energy watches from the sidelines,
we use fossil fuels to cloud our atmosphere
like we are trying to choke ourselves out.
Somewhere deep inside of each of us,
we don’t want to be here.
We dream of intelligent life because we are lonely,
reaching into space with one hand
and crushing each other with the other.
We would like to believe that we would be accepting
of alien life and cultures,
but we cannot seem to accept the life and cultures
of our own fellow Earthlings.
The problem with believing in Vulcan,
is that we are under the impression that
they would want to go anywhere near us,
that they would accept our offered hand,
with all of its scars and nuclear bomb marks.
We cross our fingers that there is other intelligent life,
but if they are anything like us
then why would either party want to get involved?
Why, when we sit at the brink of destroying
our own home,
would someone else open their doors to us?
The problem with believing in Earth
is that every single time we get so far,
we trip and fall and have to start all over.
How many more scraped knees can
humanity put Band-Aids on and heal over
until the scrapes start to scar?
I don’t want to be an astronaut.
The thought makes me feel small.
But I don’t want to be an alien,
a refugee of somewhere war-torn,
where the strangers of better places
lock their doors
and turn their backs on us,
because it’s our problem, not theirs.
I don’t want to be everything that we already are.
revised from 757 words to 697
tread Dec 2010
Like the back of a cart during the bubonic plague,
I’d have to say a dead mans story is long,
But very vague,
As we learn little from the lessons of history,
We treat is as an obsolete and unsaid sort of mystery.

The difference between black and white,
A bird in seat or flight,
A tense and dangerous human right,
As if as much as we can see,
Is the boundary of our site;

If we treat each other as we would like to be treated;
Why does a teacher tell us to remain seated?
They don’t say sit back and relax in any context,
Instead they emphasize not to use bad words or obscene text.

Am I not allowed to tell you to sit down?
Tell you I owe you nothing but a respectable frown?
I owe you nothing but decency,
Not a mind filled with verbs in which I hope others translate boundlessly.

To say I sleep with a pillow,
Is like saying I steep tea like I reap benefits from the luxuries,
Of today’s modern cars and inventions.

To assume I immorally influence a young child in growth,
Is like assuming I don’t walk the sidewalk to remain safe,
From the wind of wild traffic to my left and to my right,
Or to say we don’t disobey ancient conventions,
In which mankind is barred from flight.

Between SpaceX and NASDAQ,
And the jealous old man named NASA,
“Good Wall Street” ain’t looked at,
As the media keeps its mind where its eyes remain fixed;
On the flaws and the findings,
The wars and the signings,
The fear of dead children whose pics we find blinding.

The new Rules of Engagement,
Angers militaristics in danger,
Of bullets and shrapnel they volunteered to go face;
They are angry at the awareness created by J. Assange,
When ****** was collateral damage, to which they are fond;
It’s strange, as truth is now treason,
And a man needs a reason,
To liberate information we deserved in the first place,
Yet our apathy, indifference, and anger at ourselves,
Commits us to a stage of denial within book-shelves,
Inside which we fear ‘it,’
We fear ‘them,’
And ‘their’ ****,
Yet we hallow the ground in our mind in which we hide action;
For we fear that we’ll be charged for our thinking’s infractions.

Please reassure me that I’m free,
And that I am my own faction.
Ryan O'Leary  Jun 2020
Ryan O'Leary Jun 2020
We could see his *****
it trailed from the road
camber to the sidewalk.

His faeces forced from
his sphincter, a bystander
said she smelt raw sewage.

An eight minute ******
in full view of the entire
world even from SpaceX.

Was this Hollywood or was
it real, if so, perhaps Apollo
never landed on the moon!
Alexander Jun 2020
[min 1]
Bleed my blackness away
Brother for I want to be you one day
All just and fair
For the Lord knows I failed
To make you see my way

[min 2]
Just today ought to be the day
Lord found me, under silent gaze
to steal my sunshine away
For he sent his carpenter
to chisel my life away.

[min 3]
father's blood, for water spray
plough cotton, your way
black cotton, to design thy dreams
you did silence my sway
A breath in the fray, I breathe away

[min 4]
the fair soldier, does your bid
in the darkness of the night
he steals my life away
as the wheels of time, tick away
a breath in the fray, I breathe away

[min 4:30]
crushed under the wheels
of your desires, of your greed
wheels of time turn,
the world don't care
for no time to stand and stare

[min 5]
no time to hang that noose
no tree that stand tall to
carry me to your place
on the end of a rope hung loose.
no time to stare, no time to snooze

[min 5:30]
no time to stand and stare
for there is another to bleed
for justice to be done
the world is to be rid
of the blackness, that's me

[min 6]
A musical note of your instrument
He too is your son, O' Lord
my executioneer is here
with hatchets drawn
to bleed my blackness away

[min 6:30]
saw him to the end of his rainbow
but no legs to walk me,  home
O' mama, sorry to keep you waiting
don't set the table, the supper bowl
with eager eyes, and a losing hope

[min 7]
Oh' mama, I can't breathe
my brother just, with knees pressed deep
for he has decided to slay
by bleeding my blackness away
by bleeding my blackness away

[min 7:30]
Pray, no more, but alas every day
is a glorious day, for one more
to bleach his bones,
to pure cotton in the air
to breathe his last away

[min 8]
wish my kin led me by his hand
as the wheels of world moved,
with lightening speed,
I breathe my last,
I bleed my blackness away

[min 8:30]
the light of life fades, amongst red neon stares
whilst roses wilt by the roadside
and hopes to pain,  by the wayside
I breathe my last,
I bleed my blackness away,

[min 8:40]
black cotton in the air
white cotton, a soul lay bare
red cotton in the air
red cotton in the flare

[min 8:46 - FLOYD DIES- The World looks upwards at the SpaceX Falcon 9 Starlink 8th mission]
no time too soon
fly me to the moon
eye coins for the fare
so precious, so rare
fly me to the air

[min 8:47]
no time to spare
no time to stand and stare
'tis just cotton in the air...
oh it is the african american gentleman floyd
on whose neck the cop kept his knees for 8 mins and 46 secs and killed him

The backdrop is the slavery days of America
when African Americans working on cotton plantation (fields)
were treated badly just like what their current day masters are doing to them
using the same supervisor kinds who is the current day cops.

POET CHALLENGES the reader to ask the question:
What changed if any?

1. the world wants the black cotton i.e African
(American and other nationalities)brothers and sisters
to conform to their social system and values.
The implicit understanding in this regard is that they don't have a history and culture of their own that retrofits as in an evolved state to the current social norms. This in itself is a sense of ownership of a race of people with no regard to who they are and how they want to live.
2. the white cotton is the soul of the black man
3. the red cotton is the burning of the cotton and shedding blood
   while waging this battle.
4. the moon is representative of white cotton where black cotton can survive..
You don't see the full moon all the time. The black half is hidden but not disowned.
5. the rocket smoke cloud is the cotton we burn
in the form of black people on earth
who we deem are not worthy to live here among us.
6. eye coins is the coins they place on a dead man's eyes
to cross over to the other side of earth i.e heaven.
See link:,the%20world%20of%20the%20dead.
Qualyxian Quest  Jun 2020
Qualyxian Quest Jun 2020
America is about greed
The dollar sign is what they heed

I'd like to ride a midnight train
To Chiang Mai and through Spain

Exoplanets spin in space
Who knows if the human race

Will one day live so far beyond
Or fall so far like Babylon?

Mos  Jul 2018
Mos Jul 2018
Today I made dinner for my family and there was a huge scurry to rush to the hospital because someone got an alarming call and I wasn’t told what it was about.
But there were lots of dishes left over.
Usually my grandfather is the one who does them because he thought ketchup was a viable replacement for tomato paste and my family is known for our excellent cooking. He left to the hospital before anyone else so I decided to do the dishes because they were there. My grandma noticed before she left and said I was a lot like my grandfather.
I never really thought of it before but I suppose we are a lot alike. He used to be energetic and full of life before being drafted to be a medic for the military. He’s now a lot quieter but very witty. Tired all the time.
Once in awhile he talks a lot and tells stories and cracks jokes. He’s the most humble person I know, too. He worked on a Spacex for NASA but you’d never know if you didn’t ask.
He’s been through a lot of bad things in his life but it doesn’t /show/. If you see him he just look like an average old man but he has a very gentle soul. Even though he doesn’t seem phased he cares deeply. His natural instinct is to take care of everyone.
The difference between us is he’s held on dearly to his faith. I don’t know how to do that with my god. I’m very angry and tired and want to be as gentle as him.
But it touched my heart to hear that I resemble even a small light of him.
Stream of consciousness
Elon Musk
Musk dear
Congrats for
SpaceX feat
143 in orbits
Defeat India's
104 past record
You're a gem of a person
10 Starlink satellites
Rest Sun Synchronous
Polar Satellites
Future of space technology
Under your stewardship
Seems bright
With a few concerns
Thousands of dead satellites
Millions pieces of debris
Flying in space
Have you thought of removing
This space junk
Potential danger for space travel
52 millions $ for a space trip
Orbiting once or twice round the earth
Beyond the capacity of a poet
Who would write poems  on board an orbiter
Have you ever thought
Book a seat for free ride
For a poet of repute
Consider me the first candidate!
Qualyxian Quest  Nov 2020
Qualyxian Quest Aug 2020
SpaceX Dragon Endeavor
Dragon temple in Taipei

Avatars ride dragons
Bard's black arrow slays

I saw dragons in Stockholm
What the runes read I can't say

Jake Sully against Papa Dragon
Eywa all the Way!
Randy Bryte Dec 2020
Christmas is here
It's been a long year
Lord knows it was pretty *****
Hurricanes and Hornets
SpaceX and trump
They came and repoed my car
A good thing occured you can be rest assured
I met the girl of my dream
She fills my heart with the spirit of Love
I think we will be a great team

— The End —