Dorian 6h
In the silence I fool myself
hearing a call from space.
Laying in pools of dark
shadows, I pray for
another awakening.
With hard dirt beneath me,
I find myself sleeping.
Plasmatic ribbons of scarlet
raining soft around my body
as I lay hear in the circle of
this warm and dim light.

I can feel the weight lifting,
Oh, my body is ascending.
This is the beginning of
a long awaited night,
The words you speak come slowly.
You whisper how you wish to know me
in the quietest ways:
body and mind

I feel as though I've missed you
in the deepest parts of me
my whole life.

Will you take me with you?
Take me back to your home.
From up here where I've come from
seems so dark and cold.

If you leave me behind,
I won't make it on my own.
I cannot return.
I can't stand to be alone.
The scene you set permits
the acquittal of my submission.
Myself: flawed, and sight: fogged,
in overwhelming passion for...
...tap into me as I'd tap a tree
to leak the sap. The steady
bleeding comes in rich amber beads.

Liquid metal in my veins
serve as a token for your mission.
The time it takes to drain me
tapers in a mysterious fashion.
All I've been and all I'll be
was left with you when you left me.
I'm grounded with the weight on top of me.
In the quiet, I'm woken by
the snap of a twig.
Eyelids part, only the
canopy above me.

A sea of forest green
illuminated by stars.
I know where I am,
but not where you are.
From the underground
Came a stranger
Wearing a smiling mask
He greeted the people
He laughed with the people
He loved the people
But behind closed doors they suspected him
The stripped away his mask
They found that underneath was a stranger's face
Who deceived who?
Self deception or self deprecation?
Why did he leave the underground?
Without his mask
He had become something alien
He was no longer human
What a joke he was
The agony of living overwhelms him
Make it stop please!
I want to go back into the underground....
Fyodor Dostoevsky, Osamu Dazai, and Albert Camus. They each had a point about how alien one could become. We could be alienated from our society, our humanity, and even our own existence.
SeaChel Feb 12
There's something

s t r a n g e

hiding deep within my soul.

It hums with an otherworldly vibration,

a foreign frequency,

and if you listen closely,

you can hear it whisper,

"Come home."
After a reading I was given, I was told that my soul is a very young one (contradicting previous belief).  The bruja, explained to me that I came from another realm; sent to learn about humans and their behavior.  Everything she explained and different things - personal things I never have told another soul - she explained about myself, resonated so deeply that it shook me.  I always felt there was something off, some part of the picture of  my life that I did't understand, but now it's clear.
em>Alien, what can
You be? Blue and frozen, grown
Apart as I weep

Oh, I've fallen

Too, too deep;


An "alien" for my writing is like a family relationship that people are supposed to have, or an expected joy, not like a perfect thing, but a life not so sad... Like happiness. All feedback is welcome and appreciated!:):)
zero Feb 5
I am ill.
And it is you
that cannot save me.

I move and I retch...
you grab the bucket
and hold it for me;
but you cannot save me
from my

I long to live for you,
but the more I wish to
live, is the more
I wilt and die.

I wake up
and fall asleep
on your shoulder.

Kiss my head?
My beloved,
you cannot save me.
But I will try...for you...

I looked up at the stars not to seek out life.
There's life here.
I looked up at the stars not to see the beauty.
There's beauty here.

I looked up at the stars not to lose myself.

I looked up to find myself.
it's 5.08am
how does one reconcile
the delicate dreams of a poet
and the overt disdain for life
within a killer
sharing the same air
the same blood
the same thoughts
'such a peculiar strand'
our makers ponder
and in their hope that we not be removed
filter us with dna
so that we may displace our sometimes
monstrous ways
only this mutation could produce
an intertwined anomoly
capable of producing the beauty of starry nights
and the violence of self mutilation
undying love for another
and hatred for oneself
from our beginnings
we have survived amongst those whose
greed dominates their lives
whose egos drive their existence
while others are lost
without the love and warmth of another's heart
another's soul to share in their dreams
strange strand we are
a mystery to our makers
inspired by Shang's 'goodbye, July
Stars like ours
Only Far
Like way up stars theres
Lights of Martians
My alien poetry site
cosmicii Jan 6
I guess I was born on Earth...
But I really came on a UFO....
Nobody here really makes sense,

But I'll do me, right?
But when I do me I'm a weirdo,

Whatever, I'll change your world.
Musings at 2:08 AM.
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