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What on Earth
took you? Do we dare land?

A lark of descension. An aborted beginning.
Moon trills.

Captain is dead
at the controls.
Mother gives birth in the airlock.

Trouble in the passageways.
A struggle to name it.
A drink before eclipse.
All that's wrong with the world
sounds like harmonium in the (wishing) well.

First flight over Hölderlin's Archipelago,
creating new and stranger versions
in the sandclouds.
So this is
Tharsis Rise?
Life without a trace.

Non-terrestrial Martian field.
Halcyon flowering seas. A rock with no trees,
no urban hopes.

Yet, the whole universe inside
wants to be touched.
I love you in zero gravity,
pushing tender buttons.
*** as solution.
Moon trills.

A kiss of atmosphere.
This alien womb.
Those android embargoes.
Our children are born echoes of astronauts.
Lunar schedules
their first words.

There's a lightspeed sensibility
to this type of marriage and parenting:
no leaving the hub,
no exit procedure.

The Sol they sing
is a harm hymn,
moon trills,
subject to the ladder and the weight of breath
this outside Earth.

But I love you in the veil of a twilight moon.

We're monuments
burned into moments.
Moments without a beyond.
Farah Taskin Nov 2021
I feel alone inside
a stream of people
my presence
is merely
my existence
I deeply
the cruelty
of the reality
I feel a sudden dart of anguish
M Vogel Jul 2021
I see you  in the layers
between the layers--

One,  stacked atop
of the other,   but none
losing their God-given, loft

I see your tears--  watering
a Universe,  parched..
Wanting to say  that it
knows,  the true color of  rain
or the difference  between  

and the bad,  kind of pain.

I reach  for you
and you dissolve..  evaporate--

like you were never, mine.
Were you ever,  mine?
my beautiful Tristen--
the last  shall be first <3
Orion Rosemary May 2021
I have a vision of my future
one I’m not sure could ever come true
A vision where the world won’t  judge
the love I share with you

A vision of my future
where I could have the guts
To hold your hand in public
Hold each other on the bus

I wish that I could find a place
where I will not be shamed
For gazing in your pretty eyes
that lack in any pain

I wish we could get married
without hearing a complaint
And no one thought twice of our lives and we were normal, plain

But as we walk the sidewalk
most people stare and gawk
As though we are a freak show
or evil they must stop

I only want to love you
Without living in fear
I wish that I could say “I do”
and keep my lovers near
Just some thoughts that can apply to multiple situations.
Mikko Mar 2021
It leaves its handprints on all that I see,
and tarnishes all I touch with poison
Feeds depression like a maggot, to deepen
this cursed mire that is my place to be
It snatches my thoughts away from all glee,
and I wish I would vanish, be hidden
And alone long for a secret Eden,
for a decade it has tormented me

It told me: ”You will never have a hand
to hold, nor starry eyes to madly love
Alone you'll stay, you're too broken, cautious
Your spirit forever burns with my brand,
there will be no olive branch, no sweet dove”
Thus spoke the cold, dead void called Loneliness
Written sometime in October 2016 after an all-encompassing, amazingly crushing sensation of loneliness.
Toothache Jan 2020
Passing around a fatal flaw like a joint in a hot box,
Refreshing baths of Coca~Cola and regretful indulgence.
I'm wasting away in a paradise of my own creation!

Poems tinted grey through abstinent romanticism,
and an inexplicable undertone inherent to my prose.
As everything starts to return to a drumming constant.
It all sounds the same.
Like ashen trees and factories which procrastinate and suffocate.

We've been sunbathing in porcelain skies and lonely daydreams.
I know it sounds dramatic but as is the nature of reality.
Drab and dreary and acid washed.
Interrupted like a beach by the sea,
By the little peices of honey soaked warmth that act as comforting distractions.
A smile or a shoulder or a sunny day to drink from.
Summer and solitude, the likeness of warm bodies in a cold pool.
Compose me an opera of Soda Cans and of choral song. Of coffee and two bass lines and pollen and folk.
Make it for me so I can watch you as you work.
Let me listen and bask in its ludacris vanity, and clean shallow waters.
How I would relish the time spent muddying the current. Destroying the tide out of boredom.
And black hot frustration.

Flowers painted in acid and acrid accounts of repetative revalations in the context of rude rosy cheeked acceptance.
Blonde haired ignorance and one dimensional delusions.
Blue eyed terrorists armed with air and arrogance.

Give me seatwarmers and handholding
Or corvettes and convertables.
Give me arrowheads and heart attacks
Humble my bones with a cardiac

mumble rap
four letter words with little context or meaning and selfless expression that's often demeaning

Its September in January and it rains for a day
And despite our efforts
We still waste away
Deep Mar 2021
Melancholy lingers in this city
like some deadly virus
lying sluggishly,
waiting to touch the passersby.
N Dec 2020
The rain knows
only how to fall heavily,
and still remains beautiful

But I know only the
loneliness of December
Adonis Yerasimou Oct 2020
He was just a simple man
Who was trying to find his place in the world
In times where everybody felt
That they didn't belong here
A four line, one stanza poem, that represents my desire and somewhat my longing for the last few years of my life.
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