Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
The Octopi Jars
by Michael R. Burch

Long-vacant eyes
now lodged in clear glass,
a-swim with pale arms
as delicate as angels'...

you are beyond all hope
of salvage now...
and yet I would pause,
no fear!,
to once touch
your arcane beaks...

I, more alien than you
to this imprismed world,
notice, most of all,
the scratches on the inside surfaces
of your hermetic cells...

and I remember documentaries
of albino Houdinis
slipping like wraiths
over the walls of shipboard aquariums,
slipping down decks'
brine-lubricated planks,
spilling jubilantly into the dark sea,
parachuting through clouds of pallid ammonia...

and I know now in life you were unlike me:
your imprisonment was never voluntary.

Originally published by Triplopia and The Poetic Musings of Sam Hudson. Keywords/Tags: Octopus, Octopi, Medusa, Sea Angel, Angel, Angels, Nature, Sea, Ocean, Aquarium, Aliens, Imprisonment, Prison, Ship, Ships, Shipwreck
mothwasher Jul 17
my reincarnation is that of a treasured cup

i’m almost entirely certain that my death will play a role in the cup’s creation

whether it be the clay I molded my alien hitch hiking signs into

or its maker lays back and reads in a hammock the same hours I do

just half way around the world

once my soul has leaked and drained through hell’s piping system

and what’s left escapes through condensation

the clouds will carry me to a bazaar

where the ceramic painting class is struggling to use oils

with rainy weather

in ******* up the work of most attendees

several of them will hide me in backs of cupboards

until they move or my soul dies of dust

one, if god allow two

painted mugs

are repeatedly stacked with layers of sediment

coffee, *****

tea, *****


tea with *****

a cigarette accidentally

my father should feel proud to know

his son’s vices followed him through the afterlife

that i got a nice home

that i accepted leaving parts of my soul in old cupboards

(Dad), i didn’t mean to contact the aliens so recklessly,

and i feel like I have to get off my *** if i read too much

i’m sorry i thought smoking was non-conformist

you’re right, i lied a couple of times

it cost just as much integrity as you said it would

i know i will do much better as a treasured cup
Kat Schaefer Jul 16
We are brought into this world bare and clean
With grins on our faces, and wide eyed expressions
And dreams of becoming the finest astronauts
So one day, we too, can have the world on a string

But upon our travels to work and school
We find that we aren't equipped for the galaxy
So we trade in our helmets, boots, and suits
For an ID card, a bus pass, and a college degree

By adolescence, we learn to accept that
Our beloved, fictional, spaceship
From our fondest childhood fantasies
Is neither affordable nor fuel efficient

We grow to understand that space exploration
Does not offer a 401k or benefits package
And that $15 dollars an hour is a rate unworthy
Of chipping away at our mountain of debt

By adulthood, we realize that the imaginative
Extraterrestrial beings that we saw as a threat
Never existed, and that the real monsters
Have always lived within our towns

Our existence becomes dull and melancholy
But yet, we still seek an escape
So swap out our hope, for a pile of dope
So we too can see the stars
mothwasher Jul 16
the tree in my throat started budding, i coughed up flowers

shaped like ******* and my doctor

called the government

now they want to sever my neck, count my rings and guess my age

i am afraid the sap will start seeping and i am afraid

that you are committed to the idea of putting your ear against the hole

the government is calling again, this time of an alien kind

they are also curious

i offered them my toes, but only soil drained from my shoes when removed

i guess you’re going to have to sweep more often

dirt, petals, and alien footprints
Betty Jul 6
Destructive children
We have broken our own toys
Now hand over yours
Stars like of r
Way so of far
Space is the place
Where of the Martians r
Carlo C Gomez Mar 26
These strange fellows
Still record on videotape
Abroad an outdated
Insufficient spacecraft
The shape of
An interstellar bowling alley

By night they hunt for
New age wine
Radio waves
And a slew of hitchhikers

Some they greet
Some they cheat
Some they mistreat
Some they eat

Convenient store gangbusters
Crop circling has seen its better day
Soundtrack enthusiasts
They've a score to settle
With John Williams

They came from a fruitless world
In search of pomegranate skies
And the Big Apple
Even from the far flung
Reaches of space
Everyone's an actor

Some they unseat
Some they beat
Some they reheat
Some they eat

We're odd to them
Because they're gods to us
In a technologically challenged
Unidentified flying object

It's not war they want
Nor invasion
Just dinner theatre
And a reliable map
Inspired by the poem "If This Beauty Shall Be My Final Curtain, Let It Be Dropped Slowly," by fellow HP writer Mark S.
You’re a girl like no other ’cause of what you are.
It’s not your fault that you got scared,
cry at night or get so lonely in a crowd.
Every day you ask the same two questions:
Why me? And when will they come for me?
You get flashbacks of blinding pain and flashing strobe lights.
So when the aliens abduct you and you feel it before it happens, you wish for death.
Can no one see the alien ship as you float through your roof up to it?
No one believes you when you say you’re an abductee –
aliens don’t exist, they say – they’re just in our minds.
Tizzop Mar 6
neon-green skin
steely cold chin
x-breed terror creatures
a strong and ancient kin...

they are here to win
Today is a spacy day.
Next page