The Human dream became the Martian dream as we slept on our Mars-bound voyage. We could see colonies amidst landscapes pristine, teeming with strange Martian plants discovered post-bloom.
The Martians were adorned with ivory carvings and had surrounded themselves with esoteric paintings of marauding faces. They spoke in strange tongues, switching between Martian and another almost incomprehensibly clandestine tongue of barbaric intonation. And although they clutched sharp, ivory spears with a fierce resolve, they remained docile in our presence, and told us of the vivid dreams they had engaged in as a group prior to our arrival; abstract dreams, tinged with fragmented images of insemination and visitation by the Mars Moth-Man— he who was oil-funded, and had been delivering concrete messages to the people of Mars ever since the first settlers had arrived in the distant past.
But, once we had truly set foot upon Mars— from outside the strange realm of dreams which lives solely within our collective mind's eye— we could not have foretold, our shared dream was revealed to be a sprawling wasteland of jagged rocks and infertile soil.
We need to be putting people on planets before there are Putin people on planets so we can dictate a culture free from dictators deporting the Dutertes from the atmosphere that burns the arrows of the Bolsonaros there's no progressive bastion here so we must look forward in the years past all of the Kim Jong-uns even though their bombs might fall soon so we can find the Roosevelts and Kennedys to change the scorching hell ahead we see but those leaders are obstructed by the not so brainy followers of Ali Khameini believing ancient myths and men who grift there's so much mud to sift there's no way to lift what keeps us from other planets through nationalist panic and conspiracy theories reaching the selective hearing of god fearing ******* calling Trump their master and the oppressed their slaves we need to reach other planets but we're still stuck in the cave.
Reading the front pages Why? Because you’re beautiful To an unread poet and Whipping posts away, It’s untitled leaking..It’s just like water, An October sky It’s just a memory A cry for the quiet... Burns A candle For the lost in translation about Fake love Falling for If they wanted they would. I care that Mars is a red planet I’m still here is A suicide note