at last, my love, you came to meet me!
at last, my stomach churns to greet thee.
so soon, you came, to lift my heart
(but deepen cupid's evil dart.)

how, now, my love, can you be with me,
through all god's tricks, which played you swiftly;
to whom, my heart, do i owe the pleasure?
but you, dear one, who came with leisure!

This is ground control
I sneaked in to give you a call,
it’s been a while and I yet wonder
are you still floating ‘round your tin can?

Since you launched in sixty-nine
not much has changed on planet Earth,
though Voyager one has left the system
recording sounds of Interstellar Space.

Its batteries are running low
but then other probes are on their way
rest assure, they are not searching for you
you’ve been forgotten long ago.

Scientists still question whether
indeed there is life on Mars,
planning missions to get there
we’ll leave in fifteen years or so.

Some are drawing domes forsaking
tragedy, creatively painting our escape.
Mickey Mouse has packed his suitcase,
left Minnie waiting in a bar.

Modern telescopes point to discover
exoplanets not too far, just in case,
some residing habitable zones
orbiting nearby stars.

This is ground control
I hear footsteps in the corridor,
have to run will call you again
until then I’ll keep taking care,

of your Diamond Dogs.

i never knew that a body could be so intriguing. i never understood the appeal of michelangelo's david statue.

why, i wondered, would a huge naked man draw not only the eyes of millions but be awe insiring and cause people to look at themselves as a part of a larger scheme?

but, oh my god. i look at you and david? he has no chance. he is made of marble, of stone, but i have a real boy, a living boy.

i will swallow my pride for a moment and admit that you are freaking  beautiful, more than i, and that is when you are clothed.

i could stare at your smile for hours if it didn't make me feel like i'm dying. if i could do so whilst breathing. i look at you, and i feel like i am a part of a greater scheme.

because, there's a chance that i could some day see the most honest way we compliment each other. more than just touch, more than lust, we could be love.

the fact that i will one day know the map of your body like a home town, like my childhood house- david never got the kind of love i want to give you, i'm sure of it.

i imagine that david tasted like cinnamon and guilt with a little bit of victory, or at least, i imagine that's how he would taste to me.

but you, you taste like freedom and fire / shyness and desire, and i'm telling you i would gaze upon you like you are art.

you **** all of the giants and monsters and evils in my head with your words like flying stones.

david has nothing on you babe.

because while he is crafted form marble, i stole you from the stars.

Someone is singing a song, it's somewhere written.
The ocean breaks in billowy dances, the seas open up
Get it off the chests, put a notion through onto the cloud
that won’t just fall, won’t just stop and drop: it will float
to the measured moves, only then will it roll in,
pop into the million blooms, wreathed rosy lips,
set out bowls of colours before the one is pouring in!

A song like King David sang and everyone heard.
It’s the sweet song sang in every mother tongue;
a perfumed speech is heard sweeter than the nectar,
wreaths round each patch of earth as part of a tongue.
In all different variations, directions it’s being sung!

Mathematically composed that rhythmically spans
fashion in both, or you choose science or arts.
It’s a lyric sung with finest curvy swaying dance.
Feel the thrills deep down through the atomic level.
still the variety motions in various directions turn on,  
and nowhere near that looks, drawing a pause!