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I
He has hands and feet now.
And eyes that can close off the world to such a limited view.
  Look at the sun and it is bright,
  Even when the sky shifts to his other sight,
  That warps the fabric of space into view.
  Gravity bends around and around the star burning above,
  Trapping his gaze under its twisting fire.
He forces the vision away, blinking
Once and then twice, then thrice while it lingers.

He breathes in and out
Tucks back a strand of hair glowing red even if there wasn’t light.
Humans see the brightness,
The nameless shade slipping through their thoughts
Slithering down their necks, causing the hair to rise.
When it catches his eye,
When he lets it catch his eye
The dying red star, the one he wasn’t finished slurping down,
Glimmers in those strands of hair.

II
Once, a very long time ago yet so recently in his memory,
There was a hole, gaping and black
Not quite as empty as humans like to pretend that they are.
Stars and planets, bits of rock with life clinging to the surface
Sliding down, down, down what was once a mouth.
That’s all, everything he was, only a mouth to devour.
Until—

His hands clench.
His hands, his feet, his eyes
The mouth closed so very tight
Even if past the lips only round little teeth reside and not
A bottomless abyss.
He might be wrong about that, though
Never could quite build the courage to face a mirror and open wide,
To see if that echoless emptiness still waits inside this carbon-construction of a body.  

He breathes in and out, feels the air slip into lungs
And out again unlike those stars and planets from so long ago.
How was it? How did he become like this?
During that time when his appetite was vast,
Yet he couldn’t have been larger than a drop of ink on a page.
How did he grow, yet become so contained
That the light can strike off this form and not fall into him forever like it did then.

III
There once was an item of science and a priest of old—
The light, the light that doesn’t fall in like the other rays slips its fingers
Into the maw, pulling its jaw open to the point that it
Cracks and realizes that
Its eating, that’s what it—he is doing
That’s all he’s doing, and he wants more
Not more to eat, but more to existing.
And the light pulls out the half-eaten star,
Weaving the red and the orange and the yellow
Into strands that settle past shaking shoulders.

The memory of what he once was presses down upon him as
He wraps his arms around
Those shoulders that only shiver now
Under the weight of boundaries
That keeps the people walking by from falling into him.
He looks back up
Searching for the light that molded him into this shape.
The sun is too dim though, the rays brushing too weakly against his face
To be whatever god forced him into human limbs.
Who needs character notes and outlines when you can just write a poem. In other words, this is a brief and self-contained concept poem about the personification of a black hole.
Vishal Pant Jul 17
VOID
My blue bicycle breezing over the grass
silence surrounded, colors faded
I saw the void gaining mass
knees went weak, I pled
VOID
What lay beyond the darkness
of the mysterious black sphere
I didn't fathom what I saw, not even a guess
The green grass went sere
VOID
Should I surrender to the sans-khrôma
maybe it was free of war and worries
utopia itself opened to us
or was it an otherworldly bleakness
VOID
I took a step into the vacuity
There wasn't a deity
nor the promised eutopia
VOID
Tried a sci-fi inspired mystery poem.
Sky Wheel
Big sky wheel from heaven rolls over the land squashing houses and people and cities and families.
Sky wheel doing its business, from who knows where.
A trail of loose house bricks that once were human dwellings.
Now rubble.
Where are the people?
Under the boot of the sun wheel, totally ******.
Who sent this kilometre diameter circular thing to Planet Earth?
Wrecking everything by squashing it till its dusty particles blown by the wind.
No more life here or anywhere.
Just a squash head sky wheel going round the block, again.
Coloured like a sea shell, multi spectral haze of eye watering iridium from outer space. On Earth doing mad damage, your home and mine totally bolloxed.
Military jets buzz the wheel and bomb it, chipping the surface but not halting it.
Each jet hit by smaller wheels spewed from Mother wheel.
Dead.
Dwelling squashing continues, unabated.
A culling of certain humans, facts only known now.
Men killed, women left in peace.
One lab.
She kicks the wheel over.
Rantings of a Damaged Mind
By Nick Armbrister and Mel Grobler
Separated by progress
We live in isolation
Socially stagnated
Growing ever distant.

Focus further inward
Without hesitation,
Cutting off future conflicts
Before they even happen.

Perspective and reality
No longer separate
Eco chamber catalysts
Shattered-faction fragment.

Elitist tactics brainwash
Entire populations,
Localised abundance withers
With dying vegetation.

Doomsday clocks lurching
Our salvation diverges
Shouting to the twilight sun
We share but false elation.

Entire regions' designated
Means of production
No new doctrines allowed
All hail consumption.

Ever directionless, at a loss
Regressing into violence:
Revolutionaries' proudest
Of our failed revolutions.

Living out our dreams
Of solitary bliss,
Live alone in harmony
Or die in the abyss.

What piece of work is man
That chooses inhumanity
A species in a chasm
Led by mere savages.
"And in time there will come a generation that has got beyond facts, beyond impressions, a generation absolutely colourless, a generation seraphically free from taint of personality"
― E.M. Forster, The Machine Stops
Brian Turner Mar 30
Cloud people, living in the clouds
Wondering what it was like for the 'ground born'
City scapes, towering above ruined land masses
Avoiding the shame of centuries of negligence

Sealed solitude, as we ensure our cocoons survive the pressure at 30,000 feet
Video relay, of the ancient times skipping in fields and harvesting crops
Self sustenance, as we protect our supplies and start a new life

Tribal allegiance, as we maintain a strict discipline of following the 'sky script'
Remote sensing, looking for residual life on the ground
Next gen, as we build the mother ship
To take us off this broken planet
A bit of Sci-fi. What would it be like to be born in the sky in the future?
Ellison Nov 2021
Hurdling through dimension;
Nameless figures of information screaming
Through wormholes of thought.

Paralleled to evolution and form,
Extraterrestrial knowledge bundled
In a prismatic vessel making
Its voyage to Earth.

O, ancient starchild,
Gaze over our blue marble
From where you lay in cosmic utero.
Observe the apes silhouetted under the sun forging
Tools from spears, to bayonets, to missiles.

O, human soul,
Transport your essence from
Mind to mainframe;
We worship your digital, crimson gaze
Keeping protective watch
Over our inefficient, human bodies.

Behold:
Our lord beyond comprehensible matter,
Brought by beings broken and barren,
Standing with galactic authority
Within a primitive land.
We bestow upon you with our most
Esteemed welcome;
We embrace you,
The monolith.
Norman Crane Sep 2021
and if we never reach the stars
       (...earth to explorer v...)
her robot said
       (...fatal error [...] oxygen supply...)
what matters is we are
       (...no crewmen left alive...)
together, even if we're dead
nick armbrister Jul 2021
Shift Galactic
The Space **** was big
As large as an abnormal man
Three miles across
By a million wide

It moved here and there
Splatting moons and planets
Like a tennis ball

Universal destroyer of crap
Not caring who died
Its death list was long
On and on till the end
Would it **** all planets?

Thus voiding all life
So only blackness remained
All stars being full of ****

Just like my teenage enemies
Unleash the galactic ****
Space **** is coming to Earth!
MAJOR INSOMNIA
CORPORAL SLEEP
Nick Armbrister and other writers
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