We watch from space Safe in our spaceship As a small rock planet, That has orbited it’s star Over seven and a half billion times – All those billions of its years – Is peeled away And eaten By that very sun That gave it birth.
Two and a half billion years before, This star ran dry of hydrogen And grew From yellow dwarf to red giant.
Now, nothing is left of three of its worlds, All engulfed by flame As the sun grew Into a giant ball of death. All history is gone. Nothing to show For countless civilisations That adorned the third planet.
But oh what’s this? We spot a tiny spacecraft! Must reel it in. Examine it.
It has a name: “Voyager 1” Inside: a Golden Disc! A Golden Record. We can play it. Images of hairless bipeds. Ancestors from that third planet. Sounds of animals and someone laughing. Images of bipeds taking sustenance. And best of all More sounds Of something called “Rock Music”: A being called “Chuck Berry” “Singing a song” called “Johnny B. Goode”. For we have feet too And it makes them tap.
On some mornings mom would ask if Kyle and I wanted waffles these were no ordinary syrup catchers marbled by deep purple stuffed with blueberries
When I was born I was born a blueberry due to the blue pigmentation resulting from lack of oxygen because of my mother’s smaller stature that day a screaming smurf was brought into the world and I’ve been getting redder ever since
Above the sink in my dad’s home is a small purple bowl handmade with a ceramic stem that broke off years ago on the inside bottom is an engraving that simply reads ‘Blue Berries’ but no longer carries fruit
Been boostin' on antioxidants since I was blue in the face
A sweltering run through the pastoral streets Past the chemical plant and decrepit machinery A couple miles trekked for nature's delicious treats Incardine specks and black dots poke through thick greenery
Step over the ditch into the smokey mud Stick your hand in carefully, the cost just a little blood
A blackberry picked from the protective thorn is sweeter than one picked from the grocery store
Berry, Growing a rainbow of colors, The fruits of flowering, Shooting out color and sweetness, So that some wayward birds may come by, And spread some seeds for the bush, As if the bushes can feel, The pulse of life surrounding them.
The berries harvest an electric brisk Channeling fears Of the roaring seas Oh how the clouds ran that day Beside tides of tireless wakes Spewing from airless lungs And of dreams Pouring with laughter Open toed and gay
A touch to my lips Provokes my blood to dance Joining hands with your heart To the rhythm of your soul We clasp As a hymn of whimsical folly
Cheek to cheek I taste you and all your wonders Tantalizing every taste bud Of adventures to come
As your **** latches to my gums Surviving the swallow Clinging to the last of our memories I regret ever consuming you
The after taste of you lingers Like empty vases scattered from death Hollow of the red I once held And the smell I followed When lost in the dark
I will find you someday Deep within those woods we wandered I will pluck you from safety And we'll plunge into chaos The chaos of love