She was a gazer of the stars
You could see it in her eyes
She'd sneak out late at night
Just to stroll beneath the skies


Her eyes forever upward
Searching for a light
Her heart only beating
When the moon came up at night


She didn't care for dirt
Or grass, or sand, or street
For only when she stumbled
Would she glance down at her feet


She watched long enough
That the light soon made her blind
And for all those who loved her,
She left them all behind


If you start falling for a gazer
She's sure to break your heart
And if you are the gazer
My dear,
Stars have an awful tendency
to tearing things apart

I am a star gazer, too.
I gaze at him, in all of his starry forms.
The form that is a glint in the sky,
so far up, that no one can bring him down
while he works on what gives him another form--
the super-star.
A label that is rightful to him,
given to him because of
his shiny, ethereal words.
And lastly, and more importantly,
he is a sea star.
Being thrown around in this big, stupid ocean.
He clings to his rocks but sometimes
the waves are too rough
and a piece of him is brutally torn off,
as he has told me, happened recently.
Have no fear, Star.
Because everyone knows that sea stars regenerate quickly.
You will forever be,
floating,
shining,
growing,
Star Gazer.

Star Gazer:  
How are you fellow poet?
I hope the burning sun is keeping you
Warm without knowing it
Through a thin veil of sky so blue.

Conor Blatchford:  
A pure veil of blue
It is beautiful, white fluffy clouds
Keening wind and lapping waves
The most pure of calming sounds

Star Gazer:
Waves rush the rocks
Though the sun pierces the clouds
Crashing, smashing and rumbling
Till the mountains come crumbling.

Conor Blatchford:  
Sun sets and darkness falls
The stars show themselves at night
Calm waves rippling
Reflecting that beautiful starlight

Star Gazer:
Though bright a light may be
The touch of a star is all but lost
When we ask of fun and glee
Amidst all the chaotic costs.

Star Gazer:
Unlucky overlord from sydney australia. Named hidden agenda before.

We conversed in only poetry remember?

For once where the tyre swing hung on the tree
Now hangs a broken noose....

Remember?

Conor Blatchford:
I remember, for our poetic talk
Became our poetry
And I always did enjoy
The leisure of a pleasant memory

Star Gazer:
A pleasant memory twas,
But memories get forgotten,
But I do send applause,
For a memory unlike cotton.

Conor Blatchford:
Applause graciously accepted,
No roses are thrown but none needed
That memory was but a play, one of many
That in life will continually be seeded

Star Gazer:
Until uprooted without reason
Dangling onto what is left,
And heart plays traitor in treason,
And memory is but a theft.

Conor Blatchford:
True, memory is not quite the event
But tend and care for it like any plant
And it will grow into something fond
Something that becomes more real and less like a mask

Star Gazer:
Humans are attracted to masks,
Cruel facades are what we have known all our lives.

Conor Blatchford:
A façade makes life worthwhile
A display of grace and eloquent style
Hiding what we truly are
Is perfectly understandable, not in the least bizarre

Star Gazer:
But where is the line between imaginary and reality,
Feeding false hopes and liee to banality,
It is just one step closer to hell,
And one stop further from heaven as well

Conor Blatchford:
Heaven and Hell are concepts designed
To induce goodness and quell pride
For even though evil creates a social reject,
An old saying re-written: no-one is perfect

So how are we supposed to climb
The stairway to Heaven with imperfection in mind?
Wouldn't it be just easier to fall
Into the Hellhole that awaits us all?