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Bezos, you experienced
Zero gravity
I admire, your alacrity
You went beyond the Karman line
On New Shepard  flight
Wonderful is technological leap
You're by no means a creep
Your thinking is quite deep
You have given jobs to millions
Efficient delivery of goods at doorsteps
Online shopping quite
Fascinating and reasonable
Making great variety of things
Hitherto inaccessible
But there's a murky side
Terrible is petty shopkeepers' plight
They find it difficult to survive
You thanked your employees
They funded your ride
You're a smart guy
They create your wealth
Ignoring their families and health
You please them telling analogous
Earth belongs to everyone
Some own thousands of hectare
Some not even an inch square
Nevertheless, you're a great guy
Idiosyncratic I am
Your giant leaps in this world
Make me wonder
When you die, where would you die?
Whether in the sky in zero gravity
And keep flying
Or on mother or a sister planet and buried under gravity
Whatever, you would be remembered for ages for good
Great guy!
It's the pilot light in the stove,
                                    the fireplace.  It’s the
night light in the bathroom,
                        the living room.  The
reflection in the mirror,
                  in the glass of my windshield.  The
      hum of electricity,
the sigh of the furnace.  

What do you mean I’m supposed to go looking for something that is constant?

The conjoined twin does not go looking for its sibling.
                 The brain does not search for the heart.  
The shadow always finds the body.  Gravity invariably
                                                    pulls the moon into orbit.  

The smoldering ache of loss
                  —hot like bubbling magma, bright like a solar flare—
                                                   is always there.  
Lurking beneath the skin.  The face behind the mask.  
                 Gnarled roots beneath the forest.

What do you mean I’m supposed to look for something that is a part of me?
Assimilated to my sense of normalcy.  Integrated into my DNA.
I can only do so much introspection before I go insane.
write your grief prompt #10: What would it take to seek out the smoldering ache of loss?
The world we make
Is a safe place to fall from
Spiraling into one another
Our souls orbit like Saturn's moons
Drawn by an irresistible gravity

The world we make
Is a journey most never experience
An adventure full of new discoveries
And unexplained connections
Guiding us toward one another

The world we make
Is familiar and foreign
A home for healing hearts
And building dreams
From the fractured pieces

Broken and beautiful
Raw and rare
Faith and fear
Grace and gratitude
Ours
mark soltero May 7
your skin creates peace inside me
creating wrinkles in time
i find myself constantly longing to feel you close
for us to create friction between gravity
our inertia to propel us into voids of pleasure
nothing between us is what i desire
but when you deny me
black holes devour me
crushing my guts into pulp
bleeding me with your rejection
i blend till i am nothing from what i began
LC Apr 27
than sweet moments suspended in time
like thick, dark, smooth molasses
resisting the strong pull of gravity
as it flows from a shiny silver spoon.
#escapril day 26!
Leone Lamp Apr 13
Wooden spoon, traveling along
A marvelous companion and friend
With knicks and chips and weathered bits
From all the places we've been
Wooden spoon, hand carved with love
Yet longing to be with the forest once more
Thus it fell, from my net
To the waiting forest floor
I lost quite a few things while living in a tree 100' above the ground. Just because things fall down doesn't mean they'll always be found. I was at a meeting, on someone's couch, when my hat fell off of my knee and my heart jumped.
~2012/2013
Jasmine Reid Mar 23
Humans are as consistent as gravity,
They will always fall.
under the weight of the universe,
a breath becomes a miracle
against the law of nature, the pervasive
cling of gravity on everything it touches.

every bit of me is against
the pull of the earth. my ribs heave.
it satiates the hunger of my lungs
for space, for its place.

when I tire, and succumb to the force
demonstrate that in my most serene
- supine and asleep, I fought to live,
for every breath is a miracle.
i haven't written in a year. it seems as if the pandemic drained me so much more than i thought it could.

may we find rest during these trying times.

a.s.
Nylee Feb 28
Your gravity hit me hard and fast
But mine didn't even touch you
It just repelled out of your axis
And you still keep pulling my strings
I keep falling over my feet
The physic's law won't work for me
The biology and chemistry both
are working against me
affecting just me.
Parker Vance Feb 14
Birds of a feather flock together in the sultry atmosphere, whirring in and out of crepuscular clouds as if it were nothing special. feathers more like needles blacked under the godless face of the wind. The cliff's voice clings to their sun-smeared backs, reminds them of his own position on an empty, red planet and they sing back that gravity lament. The sky goes on about the lovely morning air and sunlight marches when all birds want is a place to lie down from that brittle flight, to rest their hollow bones filled with a lost longing.
I wonder what it would be like for birds under a red sun.
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