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As soon as you make something seem terrible,
it becomes
slightly terrible.

Someone could be using that very something in a good way,
but as soon as someone comes up with a bad way it could be used,
that thing becomes tainted by thought.

Those people ignore the good in that thing,
and imagine a bad future with it,
creating a taboo that is almost inescapable.

Our thoughts create our future.
Give things a chance.
Think positive.

The future is in our hands.
It is also in the hands of bad people.
We must coexist and cease blame on things.
Sienna Luna Jan 2017
Before the year ends

there is so much left to

accomplish. Little grains

of salt tossed from shore to shore

Rogue One is my savior

Jin and Cassian are my guides

a bonding brotherhood

a bonding friendship

a budding romance

but ended as the imperial army

blew them to smithereens.

What is to become of the

rebel forces? They end up winning

but it's a long, hard struggle.



The Force is with me.



I am the Force.



I know this now.



All this power like

the Death Star

channeling green toxic energy

destroying all

that is innocent and good.

Before the year ends

there is an opening

not unlike the blue power shields

that the rebels destroyed.

Fear is my shield

but I have the Force within

and all it takes is some hope

that this next coming year

will be a new bright beginning

full of love and caring

bringing peace and relief and satisfaction and release

to my Brain and my Heart.
Sienna Luna Jan 2017
there is this pithless entity

circling round my gut

waxing and waning

folding in infinite measures

like stiff cloth finding creases

that fit



and I caress this part

inside which has no fold

or definite pattern



but there is this power

and it increases as the light

of lesser days burn into night



brightly devouring

all lesser fabrications

willing them to speak

in hushed whispers

bathed by blackness



completely surrounded am I

a vagrant soul departed

yearning for this star of gasses

to not combust but

slowly awaken



and you spark that within me

heavy and unaware

a messy cloth of vibrance

washed and wrung and folded gently

with shaking hands and thumping breath



the atmosphere surrounding

all that is real



enveloping my body as it speaks

of glorious wonders

operating deep

within the cosmos



where air is sealed tight

like a vacuum and



I can't help but breathe in

even though

I know

I'll suffocate
Would she make me feel it's ok just being me,
the greatest gift another human can bestow?
How could I ever repay thee?
In spades: I'm gonna havta love ya  till I prove
perfection is a predicate of you to you,
perfect darling Babydoll,
last lady left with a  ladylike soul.
Where are ya?

I have lived a million years,
I have lived 10,000 lives.
Grey eminence to sun kings
and I've been the Prince of Slime (100 times).
I was Duncan Macleod's wingman until he died
- my 1st dates are legion, Space WLTM Time.
Lyrics to 'Sympathy For The Devil'
can't hold a  candle to my travels.
The sherpas of Jupiter
and bedouins of the solar winds
led me where they could  
and then I left them far behind.
When titans sat on my NHS specs,
flew my ship 1000 miles purblind
just to be that starman
who crashlanded on your planet,
my Babydoll to find.  

Bukowski says love's a dog from hell,
Eros as Cerberus.
Yin and Yang need counselling
from J-Dogg and the G-Nius.
Security stands between us
and the Age of Aquarius.
But dontcha know  whole horrorshow lasershow
will after all transpire divine,
once Babydoll's and my lifetimes align.

Jebus pace his cloud, checking his watch night and day.
John Lennon's like a Black 'n' Decker in his grave.
The gyres of samsara creak out screams in vain.
Cherubs in their choppers scour the astral plain.
But bang to crunch the cosmos will be peachy cool,
once Babydoll's and my souls and bodies fuse.

Shedloads of solar systems, can't list 'em,
and I've surfed the centuries
- here my Cinders is, cleaning up catshit!
Babydoll, geddoff your knees!
Dispel dismal dreams of mummy ****
and losing yourself in Marbs;
there's dust on my jacket from battlefields
older than the notion of Love
(what remains of worlds
where the only way was Mars).

Like the Lorax in a hoverchair,
thru the last black hole in despair,
Stephen Hawking typed 'sigh' then the sinking ship
of the Age of Starlight he did quit.
And on the coattails of his chemtrails,
Babydoll and I, off we sail
into the sunset of the event horizon,
catch the Face of God with its flies undone.

Babydoll, it's a mundane Monday,
talc'd bra and gender gap pay.
But on walk to work, silvery alleyway beckons:
a DeLorean from D7.
Spacetime schmutz springing gullwing disperses
- voila! Your Mr.Right out of all the multiverses
steps out to save you from the end of life as you know it
and the continuation of life as you know it.

I have scanned animal, mineral and aerosol,
and when I wish upon a star, it's for Babydoll.
Sisyphean stars like rolling stones snowball
more space. Starcrossed like Romeo and Spidergwen,
engagement ring of unobtainium
will only fit perfect darling Babydoll,
last lady left with a ladylike soul.
Where are ya!
J-Dogg and the G-Nius = (Brit. slang) jocular pseudo-hiphoppy  monikers for the UK talkshow host, Jeremy Kyle, and his head counsellor, Graham 'the Genius' Stanier.
Light House Sep 2016
Shrieks still lingered....

Most of the customers were now hiding -- all over -- peppered throughout the bank. Some were only partially hidden, taking cover behind objects smaller than themselves. Those out in the open, lie-in-wait - tensed, like armadillos.

Something ****** had happened here.
This placed was stained with a fresh coat.

He stood over her (the guard from earlier, that is). The lights flickered on & off, as if power to the whole metropolis was about to cease;

& then it did...

The bank went black, as did all of the other surrounding buildings. The guard vanished in the lack of light, but he was still there; he was still close by.

If she was conscious, she would have heard him breathing & panting -she would have heard the dull commotion, which had coincided with his breath.  She would have heard the muffled boxing, which ignited around her lying-self.

He felt as if his muscles were going to tear. His triceps & thighs shook uncontrollably. He had nothing left to sweat out; he had saved nothing - not an ounce - for the aftermath of these quakes; for the aftermath of the match, which had felt like an interminable marathon.

He had nothing left to sweat out,

but rain still poured outside, beating on the building like a ruthless drummer. An ensemble of sirens then wailed, as well. Their sounds traveled in all directions; however, some grew closer -- louder -- but it was far too late...

Not one shadow could be seen. Nothing could be seen,
except for when silent-lightning cracked, flashing through the tall, barred windows of the bank.

No one could be heard. Nothing could be heard;
the shrieks no longer lingered. Following the flood of light, however,
rolled in -- the sound --

Thunder;

…& then two eyes emerged with this new noise.

"Hell-fire" eyes. Green flames, kissed
with a bit of blue. Glowing redemption, perhaps,
~~ burnt through the blackened bank ~~

Something had crawled & stood back up;
something then peered, inward.

Growing into herself, like heated copper -
metallic parts of herself formed larger pieces,
better suitable for bending.

Her morale swam far, with the torso of a swimmer.
Her spirit ran wild & strong, but efficient like a machine
with the legs of a sprinter.
Her mind bent reality, as a force twisted her back to life,
like a champion gymnast redeeming herself from a fall.

Her soul, redefined;
her essence, re-raised.

& time was bought
by the guard
who dropped --

to the floor --

within his grave,
which he, himself,
had sincerely made.

He chose to make it -
                            for her,
                         he chose
                          to save.


Her eyes ...God,
her eyes... glowed,
so ******* brightly....

Two giant pools
of some kind of green,
gleamed.

Her eyes pierced - quietly
-- surprisingly -- but with a degree of fury,
which could match the loudest of roars.

Her eyes -- like two crosshairs --
lined up with those doors….

...the doors to the office -
at the top of those steps…

which then flew
open, as the man in blue
stormed out.

He moved like a ghost, descending those steps -
blipping his way over, till he was face-to-face with those pools...

If he was a ghost, she then stared at him as if he was already dead.

“ENOUGH!!! Enough of this!” he screamed. Madder than all-hell, he turned devilish red.

He sounded like an unhappy god, but those eyes only continued to peer back at him ...as if he was already dead.

She deeply inhaled & then snorted much like a bull, like a beast,
but his unusual blue-suit hung untouched, unstained, from his body, as her exhale spattered upon the glass -- from the other side -- on the other side, quite unexpectedly.

For she stood in darkness -- heated -- as fluid copper,
flaming green & blue... somehow, now -
outside of the bank.

An artisan pole vaulter -- with
the torso of a swimmer,
the legs of a sprinter, &
the contortions of a champion gymnast --
   v      a
              u
d             l
a              t
h               e
                   d

over the undesirable path, which this man in blue
had laid out for her. ...Like a machine, she had leaped
out of his crypt -- out of that icy vault -- up out of unconsciousness,
out of the bank.

Her spirit was wild,
& she ...ah, finally ...a true
wild card.

The man in blue’s eyes widened, as he held his gaze.
He -- at long last -- failed to hold is composure; he was blindsided, enraged.

....Or perhaps she was the one who held his gaze -
who widened his eyes -- made them tear --
who filled him with rage.
(Her own rage....).

His innards burnt as hot as her eyes. She was recycling the remaining heat from the hurricane squalling about outside -feeding fire to the man pin-striped in blue. Regardless of who held whom, they locked eyes -- like eagles locking talons -- in the darkness.

In the darkness, her brightness - began to burn-away at blue.

The air occupying the metropolis settled, as it finished cooling.
She had continued channeling this energy till the man in blue suffocated from the pressure & burnt away
    - taking down the entire bank in this vehement blaze,
       taken down
                              ...by her unanticipated glory.

If he was a ghost, then she was a phantom -
If he was a ghost, then he had faded...
If he was the fated, then she was the fate-r,
then she was his maker.

....A Valkyrie of horror,
who embodied life & death,
stained in rage, as well as love....
Her eyes glowed so brightly --
two pools of...



“Fuuccckkkk,“ one of the astronauts murmured,

tearing up, as the team continued bracing themselves for impact; the velocity was incredible.

The shuttle then collided into a sea, where they plunged deeply -- now, a submarine --
immersed in a speckled shroud of stars.

They had only wanted to return home....
They had only sought for a haven...
...a haven they could call "home."

They did not know if they had arrived,
or how far they had flown, but still
something about them lingered -- remained --
regardless of location -

                  hope for a forgotten garden,
       remembrance regrown
.
Continuation of a piece called "Firefly." Will come back to this tomorrow or over the weekend I suppose. Anything is up for change, as everything always is. Yawn, night everyone.

All of my love.

LH
Ron Sparks May 2016
full flower moon
in its halo
a space station
The Full Flower Moon is the full moon seen in the month of May.
Sienna Luna Jan 2016
Going to sleep
is the best thing
a person can do.
After a long day of work
just slip under the covers
clean, wrinkled, soft and daring
the night a comfortable pillow
in which to rest sleepy tired eyes
while finishing a dystopian sci-fi movie
taking place in the desert.
Furiosa takes the night
across her shoulders
black engine grease smeared
across her forehead as Mad Max
rides shotgun
before the heat consumes them.
Enjoying every sand crusted
machine cranked thrusted
water tank bomb shell.
She is the best kind of heroine
taking complete control
of the current situation.
But sometimes there’s a break
when the dusk becomes depth
merging into the white halo of moon
slivered like a cut thumbnail
just hanging there, lifeless.
And this is when
the truth becomes
completely apparent.
Resting one’s body
after a tough week
of physical and emotional sickness
becomes first priority
where relaxation nods its weary head
to slumber under a pile of blankets.
Randy Johnson Nov 2015
We had some visitors that came from outer space.
Those aliens came here to enslave the Human race.
I met the leader and he demanded that I bow down before him.
He said that if I didn't, our galaxy would meet a fate that was grim.
I told that alien **** that I only bow down before the almighty Jehovah.
The alien leader got so mad that he said they would destroy our galaxy by causing a Supernova.
But God wiped out the aliens with bolts of lightning.
Jehovah God was victorious because he is a king.
Jehovah stopped those aliens from causing chaos.
He showed those alien fiends that he is the boss.
This is a fictional poem.
Storm Raven Aug 2015
A hero in a book or movie.
Fighting the evil queen.
Reclaming a homeland-or mountain.
Saving the world with a companion in a blue boxs.
Leading a rebelion.
Beind captain of a ship- Serenity or the USS Enterpise.
Cathing a serial killer.
Or stopping a psychotic well dressed villian.
One man or woman saving the world.
When I was younger I wished I could be like them.
But now I can barely fight the demons in my mind.
Why would I dream of saving the day when I am not sure I want to live another day?
Life is no fairy tail.
This is not Middle-Earth or Narnia.
There are villians and monsters yes but not ones that we can defeat during wizzard chess or with a want or lazer sword.
They are just as real and dangerous.
But the live in our minds.
I tried to run from the watching tv series and movies and reading books.
Dreaming of another life.
But eventualy the demons got closer to chatching up.
And no hero will be able to safe me.
I will have to fight the monsters in my head myself, all on my own.
And I hope that I will be strong and brave enough when that time comes.
Randy Johnson Jun 2015
I'm a Gungan from the planet Naboo and my name is Jar Jar Binks.
Senator Padme put me in charge once even though I don't even have the ability to think.
George Lucas brought me to life with a computer, I'm a product of CGI.
Because many Star Wars fans find me irritating, they want me to die.
Many people hate everything about me, they hate my voice, my six foot tongue and my orange skin.
Now that the prequels are over, those people are thankful that they'll never have to see me again.
This poem is based on the Star Wars Prequels.
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