I gaze upon the cosmic void,
Alone and tired from my journey across the frontier.
I pick my feet up, and drift across the surface.
And all I’m surrounded by is silence.
I reach my hands up towards the stars,
Trying to catch a passing comet by its tail.
Flagging down UFO’s to see if I can catch a ride
Along this space highway to anywhere.
I often think of coming home.
I wonder what I’d look like after all this time?
Would I be familiar, or would you greet me as a stranger?
And all I could think to say is sorry.
I see the hues of where you are.
The planet looks like a giant marble with an azure aura.
I need to say goodbye, and I wish you were coming.
But I desire to float on.
Keep rolling, like sailing, rowing the science voyage.
Discovering a new discovery, then much happens:
a new crescent, new moon on a new turn is found,
yet a night to be invented eclipses it furthermore.
Will the voyage float at the newest dark energy frontier?
Will it now pierce verily the ******-skinned heaven’s last barrier
that divides the seen and unseen, holds the uncharted water?
Will it by design decode or recite the word, the language
the lock is coded in, the very command written on the stone?
Till then it won’t move, nor does one see the skin black or white,
and till then one won’t stop the sun lighting up the night!
The poem is from the book Zero and One: The Relativity of Science and Poetry available on Amazon.
A flower in despair
I wish that I could meet you there
Tell you that it's all right
That dusk will never fade to night
And that I'll never watch you fade across
The seconds on my clock
A million pinprick electric shocks
And all the while the stage is set
I'd bring you into my embrace
Reality would slip away
The world still barely ringing in my ears
Ten thousand empty gestures
Ten thousand empty questions
And you'd become the ringing in my ears
All while the sky turns
Black without a single star
And the stage is set outside
But in the darkness
We still try
Syllable can struggle through my throat
My words I have to choke
for the both of us, I suppose
But I just want to say
I still love the way you play with
The way that I emote
You'll come back to me, I hope
All that's left is to take the stage
A Frontier March - 1938
A night tows as wonder creeps
Superb memories courses my mind
Soaked and felled in ecstastic brew
Filled and engrained fun timed times
Fertility stimulates a germinating seed
Until such another moment and space
Frontier human frequencies spirals
Swirling in ,within, out and around itself
Sinking deeper injecting vibrant waves
Ohh.......Give me a chance to spiral out and reflect on others!
Plant a fertile garden in summer & harvest all of the fruits and vegetables.
PIckle all of the vegetables.
preserve all of the fruits-leave some
Apples for pie.
Place pickles and preserves in the darkness of the root cellar.
Order How to ****** a Farmhand in 10 Days from the book catalogue.
Order the Art of War also just in case
Invite Handsome Jimmy Pike from the neighbouring farm over for pie.
Get Uncle Abe to cover the dirt floor with planks.
As Mama always said a frozen dirt floor is just for the dirt poor.
Bake Pie. Place on windowsill.
Waft the smell
Of hot pie over toward the woodpile where Uncle Abe is chopping wood.
Invite Jimmy to play Gin Rummy the evening when Uncle Abe is mysteriously ill of a stomach complaint and sleeping in the barn.
Show Jimmy Uncle Abe's tongue and groove method of log cabin construction.
Ask Jimmy to show me the **** and pass method of using unmilled logs to **** up against each other without notching.
Spike Jimmy's tea with ***.
Show Jimmy the root cellar.
**** up against Jimmy with notching.
WITH LOTS OF NOTCHING.
Tell Uncle Abe and have a shotgun wedding.
Bake another special pie.
When The Great Bard wrote his epic plays
America was the new frontier
A widening world of wonder.
But now we look with eagle-eyed telescopes
Out into the depths of space
Beyond the beyond
Back through countless miles and aeons
To Thirteen point eight billion years ago
When our universe appeared.
Send your minds-eye through swirling sandstorm fogs,
Each grain a galaxy
Each galaxy a beach
Most stars are circled
By endless varieties
There must be Earths out there,
Again too many to number
Making our own a single speck
In that endless night.
The saddest thing, of course,
Is that all these worlds are out of reach,
Unless we find a wormhole
Or that fiction “Star Trek” comes to pass.
Without some warp drive
We are marooned on this island
We call Earth.
Yet we can look
Imagine what it’s like out there
On sister Earths
And on sky-blue seas.
The new frontier....
— The End —