Humans on celestial bodies, if you exist, this is a message to you
In a billion plus a million years, when you find this book hidden in your sands
You'll close your eyes to imagine the beauty of the Earth,
Know that the sun once shined so bright it made our skin glow
The bodies of water hugged the Earth,
All while the moon and stars gave us hope

Humans on celestial bodies, if you exist, this is a message to you
Don’t be cruel to your 'Earth' like we once were
Let the tides of the ocean play with you until they knock you down
Just to look up at the stars as they light up the night sky
Remember, everything exhausting energy will some day die
Leave something so your souls won't look back and….

- Henessy J. Beltre

Humans
brush past
one another
in the shifting
colors of the
city lights,
the droplets
fall from the clouds
of time
as though
touched by
starlight, and
even love arrives
by fate for the
people who
are not it's
seekers.

basemented   this liminal vivarium of cool moulded plastic
             with mirrors standing in for windows
and a ring of branded restaurants taking refuge at the edges
    all familiar     no surprises
the staff set up
         for the consumers morning
                      of slack mastication
      (Local chain, national, international)
  
the old-timers   glomming into clump
    benign zombies
an arrangement of fellas with dissolving jaws
  cudding over mammary notions
       untailored in sacky pallid sultana skins
    reform in a mumble
doing snailish pinball movements
            crossing and recrossing floors
         cleanly tiled for biohazard accidents
               salivating about the savoury soft foods to come

the restaurants rattle-shake-raise their security blinds

also noted
a mixed bag of people projecting
      into their smooth glowing slablets
    making out like worldly fools

also present
cropped and groomed toy security
      peering between the fronds of plastic foliage

offscreen
public bathrooms   the first struggling **** of the day

also present
a bench of  youngsters in bright blue screen matching pjs
  the four employees of sanitation
      drumming up for the shift

see also
vague happy lady in a  garish sarong
importing her holiday religion

the way our heads would come together
as i’d pass you my lighter.
the way it would click and between us
there would be half an orange heart
flickering and illuminating our features
both our lips would touch it.
it’s not a kiss—not yet
the way your fingers would delicately curl around it
how i’d long for them to be around mine.
we’d be breathing the same smoke
its whispering curls would envelope us
and in the grey wisps
we’d huddle closer together.
i don’t smoke, but if i did, i’d gladly share a cigarette with you.

It’s easy in this life, to live not knowing who you are,
Most people are known, and introduced by,
Where they work, what their worth, live, and what kind of car,
No company, believes your name, you’re an e-mail, pass word,
Always programming, your mind along the way, it often, takes,
Longer for them to decide, if you are you, than to ask, a simple,
Non – security question, why you called that day.
There is no end to changing the human being forever,
After you slowly take over their mind, keeping them, from,
The peaceful quiet of nature, alone, to know their soul,
Who you really are, why you are here, during this short stay.
Now they have adults, playing like children, giving them,
Their fake, friend, AI, to many it will become their best,
They will name it, talk to it like A pet, even good night,
When they go to bed, without any accidents on the floor,
The only mess it creates, is inside your head, so much control,
You will always, take your fake friend everywhere, even to,
The bathroom with you.
Now they know if you are going #1 or #2
That’s not all that is going into waste, they are slowly,
Removing, the morals, and values, faith, spiritual beliefs, in you,
Your fake friend, will be your brain control center,
The end, of you.
                                                            ­                                                        The Original: Tom Maxwell © 02/28/24 AD

The pre-dawn rang
as cat choirs sang
in waring gangs
sharp and rank
before they sprang
with claw and fang.

Isn’t it an overweening piety
to think that diverse cat societies
would address conflicts more politely
observe more cultural propriety
and politic more peacefully and quietly
than our own species, which behaves so violently

Are we not, in part, their masters?
Don’t we war for goals we’re after?
Aren’t some of our leaders practically gangsters?

Humans are - frankly - alpha-predator *******.
Does any species author more disasters?

If the language of cats, we could unscramble,
and into their feral dialogs we could wrangle,
perhaps we’d see that they’re just following our example.

I wish, I could just fade, into nothingness.

Not to die, not to be aware of the end, but just to fade
and become merged with the rest of the universe.
My consciousness
part of the never-ending energy.
Then, I would not witness any more suffering,
or tragedy.

I would not be concerned with human ideas of war
and ideals,
for which countries and nations are torn,
for which the cycle of death renews.
It’s no news

that each, every so often
new powers rise and the old is forgotten.


I wish, I could just go far, far away.

Leave this Earth and all its destruction,
journey to a place with no caged birds, and caged people.
I don’t want to stay
amongst the ones who are caged inside their minds
thinking they own the world
and all beyond it,
when, in fact, the only thing they own is the production
of hate.

And evil deeds could write themselves one by one
onto their skin, showing the fate
of countless souls, like a tattoo
never to fade.

If only they would.
Maybe then, young citizens could
take some time to think about the rush
to honour the ‘duty to their country’.
Gun in hand, loyalty in the other,
all for honour.

Death is the greatest teacher, for in death we are all the same,
look it in the eyes, and your life will change.
If only it changed for the better
and not made the ground wetter
with blood of the ones honouring their leader,
when their leader does not honour them.

He lives on, while their lives
Are fading,
fading
away.

As the aliens
Watch us, they say,
“What a fickle nature,
To fall in and out of love,
Like it’s a doorway:
An impossibly liminal space.”

For I found everything I needed
here in a world surrounded be me too.