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Justin Aptaker Aug 2019
Everyone's been talking about how
the universe will either expand
indefinite cold star death
or collapse and then repeat itself

meanwhile i'm a slave proper
in every sense of the word physical
bound to the elements hunger
a criminal for speaking my thoughts aloud

a loud or a soft noise unheard
unseen and unknown and unthinkable
still I would try to define it
humanity, always effing the ineffable

i'm one and apart and the same all the same
the universe cloaked in name after name
every man and woman a star
in their own drama melodrama how dramatic

i am in a word addict
again you might say i'm back at it
rhyming with rhythm but static
sense or nonsense and i've had it
I got lost in the constellation in your eyes,
It felt like I was flying in the atmosphere's oceanic skies.
You made me spin like my orbit is around  you,
In this biosphere, it has always been you.
I'm in a steady state, each day my love for you is expanding,
But I'm still me, the same way, withstanding.
When the universe started to form,
Everything was meant to happen.
We were destined to meet,
But not to be together,
Because you got lost in the constellation in the galaxy of another.
It is about science, about cosmology a branch of astronomy. I used the terms to relate it to love.
Wordsmith May 2019
The moon has its ways of inspiring awe,
Taking on different forms, challenging static notions of identity—
And when it chooses to shine bright, it affirms it has never been any less a whole—
Roman Payne May 2019
Have you ever noticed how the paths the stars travel across the sky depend entirely upon on the way our hands move across each other's bodies?

And how new stars are born when I unhook your dress; new planets, when I unclasp your bra.

And how - when you untie your hair, whole new galaxies are formed, and float off into the nebula as your hair falls down around us.

Have you felt the cosmic trembling of my beard along your earlobe?

Or how - your eyelash sweeping across my chin sends showers of meteors to the end of time?

And how - the slower we proceed with our ritual, the slower, more gently, the earth will spin; the more elegant, more beautiful, the universe will unfold?

And how - we can even go back in time; to live and relive the stories we want retold.

Have you noticed how - all the Universe mirrors us?  

How - every experience and all of existence depend upon the extent of our adoration for each other?

How - we can even go back to the time before the earth was formed - for our love does not need the earth - we are two celestial bodies; nothing will disturb us, nothing will interfere.  

Off in the distance - the planets and stars that are the children of our whispers and moans, fade into eternity.

You see - if we love with enough elegance; adore each other with enough passion; we can even go back to before the entire universe began - to the time with no place, and the place before time.

For our love needs no time to love.

Be still, my love.

Look around us.  
Look at the delicate darkness.
Listen to the infinite silence.
Experience the magnificent stillness.  

It is just you and me.  
Nothing has ever happened.
And, all that is beautiful has yet to come.

Let us create a universe of beauty...

I slide my fingers into the aether of your thighs, to the center of the Universe to become - to the place on your body that will create everything.  For - the Cosmos will come from you, my Love.

Gently - I caress the sphere of your Landica.
I turn it, set it in motion, make it revolve - the way the Earth and all planets some day - are going to revolve once they come into being.

And - as I circulate the cosmic seed of the Universe we are creating, I hang upon the celestial majesty of your lip, and wait for you to utter your primordial - Big Bang.
Recorded version available at
Jude Quinn Mar 2019
10 billion galaxies in the universe,
an average of 100 billion stars in each one of those.
That’s 1 billion trillion (that’s a one and 21 zeroes) of stars in the known universe.
At least  10 percent of those may have at least 1 planet;
that is 100 trillion (that’s a hundred and 18 zeroes) of planets.
There might (“might”) be about 11 billion planets similar to ours,
of those, we concretely know of about 10 (ten. One one, one zero),
that number includes us,
and we only know there’s life in one of those 10,
that is a percentage of 0.000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 001
of 100 trillion.

Well, ****.
Lucius Furius Aug 2017
Sweet Earth, each molecule of me has come from you.  
Sesame seed, broken into amino acids and calcium,
became my tiny bones; bananas, potassium,
the cells of my brain.

If we could trace each atom back, we'd find
Kansas, Iowa, Ecuador, Spain.

And further still, through unimaginable millennia,
these same atoms --the very same-- were flung from a supernova,
only to recombine, here, on Earth.

"Of star-stuff, are we made." Carl Sagan said.

And then (when I'm dead)
the same in reverse:
the atoms' slow dispersal:
pulled in by roots, washed by rivers, melted in magma,
blown, finally, to smithereens by the exploding sun....

Star-stuff, once again, become.
Hear Lucius/Jerry read the poem: .
This poem is part of the Scraps of Faith collection of poems ( )
Neen Jan 2017
You: A nebula.
Vast and far-reaching.
Ionized gasses, pink and blue
An ode to passion, and depth.
You. Are. Unfathomable.
Nestled in your tendrils,
A cosmic safe harbor,
I am born a star.
Consuming your words like hydrogen,
I shine bright,
Radiating warmth into the cosmos.
Ashlee Reyes Aug 2016
You opened your sun roof,
It'd been hours
Your arm around me,
No man-made move.

We started at the stars,
You let out your thoughts
And I couldn't believe who you'd become,
Who you are.

You'll never be mine,
I will never be yours
But in that moment
I wanted a little more.

As time progressed
And the stars dimmed
I laid my seat back
And let you do the rest.

The music playing
Got lower
And as your lips found mine
I'd forgotten everything we'd been saying.
Time had paused,
We were back to that time when we were
and the stars soared.

No truth in the air,
Your hands on my hips
No internal despair.

18, 19.
The stars are out
And the boy I once saw,
Once wanted
Is finally seen.

But the sun will come up,
And the sun roof will close
And time will resume
And we will never again be as close.
She who stands there, he who leads,
Are One to which my praises plead.
I ask of you such great forgiveness,
Your face shines bright, your image livid.

Grey spots upon the Holy Moon,
Form your bust, to it I croon,
I ask again; whisper, pray and plead,
Show me a sign from sacred steed!

I toot my Gudi, crash the Gong,
And cry for Cheon-A-Ma-Chong;
I play my series in metered eights,
in line with movements of the greats.

I plot their paths in sky you see?
Your eight movements,
Eight hooves in cleats!
You breathe out the fire of the Sun,
Head held high at night as one,
The Zodiac your wings as such,
And planets, the hooves, a final touch.

Fires issue from your mouth,
Burn up the sea-water in the south…
Heavenly I hear your roaring,
and the fullness of your glory,
Your starry eyes the flux of sea;
as you swim the depths and round the tree.

Whose skull we hooked once I reminisce,
Terrible creature from the Abyss;
Oh Horse my love, construct of mind,
and she who gallops for all time,
...measures for the heaven’s seat,
Sets placement of all deities,
To you I fall upon my knees,
Hippolytian by decree,

Take me!

-take me to your Cosmic Sea!
Combining the Scandinavian, Chinese, Phoenician, Greek, Celtic and Hindu visions of the heavenly horse mythology. Each element of the celestial motions is included as part of the being.
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