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Carlo C Gomez Aug 2021
"...Though I walk through the valley
of the shadow of death,
I will fear no evil..."
-- Psalm 23:4

This Achilles' heel
— die for yellow
the abruptness has come
sick shoddy steam engines

Big blue undone
don't bite the sun
seek out satin
adrift in the flatlines
of this soaring dystopian stockpile
just as the flaming Icarus
fell in exile

Unlock the nearest far
but lose a hand in the cookie jar
cockpit burn
— what new color
do we learn?

Promise me you'll live
beyond yellow
and on re-entry I'll play
the hedonistic fellow
falling from the summit

— Breaking atmo
with so great a speed
like it or not
I'll soon be eternally

and static talk
ionized trails
and blisters of aftershock

Remembering the capsule
under the tongue
remembering the break-up
under the sun

Sensing fascination
in an endless stretch of graveyard
Duke of the avant-garde
this abstraction is now
my calling card

We're at the threshold here
reshaping into debris
and I'm wondering
just so wondering
if you will ever find me
STS-107 was the 113th flight of the Space Shuttle program, and the 28th and final flight of Space Shuttle Columbia. An in-flight break up during re-entry into the atmosphere on February 1, 2003, killed all seven crew members.
Lucas Mar 2021
from the night sky

We roam the void, devoid of any fears
Our blue sphere behind, a red one ahead
Headed to a rock so silent and dead
And yet, back home, there are cheers

Remember us as we make it to Mars
The two robots rumbling, raising sand
Sent to examine, excavate, explore
Plucking wonders from the ore
Wandering around the wasteland

A land of dangers and dunes and dark and dust
And crust and cold and craters and clouds

in the white sky

Remember us as you gaze at the stars,
For when times are tough and severe
As they veer towards war and cruelty
To peer into the abyss and, yet, persevere
Is nothing less than a lesson of ingenuity

Remember your Promethean flame
Its blaze, the bravery; its ember, the brain
With that fire you made us wings
This burning desire to be airborne is our bond

As we dare mighty things
With a yearn to belong
From the pond to the sea to the ocean
to beyond!

We'll remember men kindly
And hope, perhaps idly,
That mankind is coming
right behind

Clouds occlude our view as you
in the bright sky

And, still,

A blue dot ought to be there
To believe, even being small and pale
That it can dare to achieve such a tale:
The dark is not too much to bear

from the night sky
Carlo C Gomez Jul 2020
Cloud 9
Force ten
Apollo 11

I'm high in the sky
Driven like the wind
But walking on the moon
July 21, 1969
Forgot to post this a week ago.
Carlo C Gomez Jul 2020
Let's swim about, Peter
Mimic my sound

Speak my language
You precious bottle-nose

The trouble you have
With the letter M
Sure makes funny bubbles
Beneath the surface

What then should we talk of
This morning?
Miss Kelly, perhaps

Every room
Is an island, my child

Never isolate your love

Let it run to the sea
It's where I will always be
Thomas W. Case's Historical Figure Poetry Challenge, Margaret Howe Lovatt. In the 1960s, she took part in a NASA-funded research project in which she attempted to teach a dolphin named Peter to understand and mimic human speech. This while living in a half-submerged dwelling to have continuous contact with him.
Carlo C Gomez Jan 2020
If the earth is flat as a pancake,
how come the sun and moon, and pretty much every other celestial body, are round like a Belgium waffle?

If the moon landing is some giant hoax of trick photography,
who did it? and how?
I mean, Industrial Light & Magic didn't get it's start until nearly a decade later!

Come on!
Venus Star Dec 2019
the foundations we built without knowing
i cant let you in
theres things i need to say to you
but i cant
and i cant keep you out
so i wait

and we keep building
and we dance in silence
to the music
and let the world burn
from the fires of our silence

watched by the moonlight
the ashes are our scars
i just wanted to dance
in our usual trance
Torits Melody Oct 2019
This addiction has tainted my once pure heart,
From it I am unable to break apart,
A man who Would Give Up Everything For His Art,
Now Incapable Of Love; A nomad trying to survive the drought.

I am Lost Without Love As My Compass,
Stuck On the Fence Where Eons have long passed,
Nasa caused Me Nothing But horrendous Torment,
Stella constellations now cause me to lament.

A Rebel Astronaut who once drifted through the stars,
Now hide from the light; trying to cover his dark scars,
Demons glued to my back whispering spine-chilling lies,
I Drank from death’s Glass; throughout the outstretched night, we dined.

Guilt sunk her claws underneath my skin,
Her face Carried a Monstrous Grin,
Time Froze as affliction arose,
The predicted crises is finally revealed on this Horrid road.

Tears rushed down my cheeks as pain cradled me in her Arms,
All my emotions dead like plants in a burning farm,
All my Losses yet I never knew pain as I do now,
In the end i was no god was just a mortal man.
“I’m fine... I think”
Brandon Conway Jun 2019
outgrown the cradle
generation ships cruising
the stars are all ours
Michael H Jun 2019
In all those stories
reacting with youth

everyone is gathered
in my head

I try to free NASA
there are time errors though
with lasers

I need help
thinking about
390 Looking to post something... this is random but I have always liked aeronautics. The US is planning to put a laser into the Earth's orbit, to shoot down missiles from space. Whether for or against I would like to voice soon...
Venus Star Mar 2019
is it real, to be lying in the yellow meadows
beneath the willow trees
in our own worlds

is it too good to be true?
in this cosmos
to be dreaming about a willow tree
in a yellow meadow

a simple thought
a pen in my hand
a thought in my head
i wonder what ill dream up next

~the poetry enigma
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