don't hand in,
anything  ever written,
during a* **panic attack.

I'm working on having my first book of poetry published right now. It will have some of the poems I have posted here and a whole bunch more that will be exclusive to the book. If any of you are interested in purchasing it, feel free to message me here so you can get your hands on one of the first copies! It's looking like they're going to be about $10-$15 at the moment, but nothing is set in stone. Thanks to all of you supporting me here on hellopoetry.com, I honestly wouldn't have felt empowered enough to go through with this had I not had each and every one of your views, likes, comments, messages, and love. Also, thanks in advance to those of you who will be purchasing!!

Give every spoken word,
Oh, listener,
A work-space in your mind.
Even if it's misinterpreted
No harm is sprouted.
Allot double the space
If and when it's written.
Knowing my limits I realize,
I am not a machine!

There is a human race for
existence in outer space
amongst stars and schemes,
intergalactic dreams
of Milky Ways.
A cosmic myriad
of eventual opportunity.

The future is written there
by astrological stars
in horoscopes and
scary self inflicted
prophesies of extinction.
Climates will change
and Mother Earth will
be estranged from
humanity if that is
what you call it.

Her wrath will be felt
in polar ice cap melts
and selfishly we'll drown in
the name of progress,
technological
advancements,
and our deluge
of need.

Or comets will dive
in flaming skies,
meteors will give rise
to mass panic and
the deathly cries
of life's demise
as we know it anyway.

There is a human race
which the wealthy embrace,
and money is no object.
Rocketing ambition
to be the saviours of
their own obliteration
billions is showered
in pollution and metal birds
jet packing to Mars.

There is a human race and
idiocy is life when
a bank balance means more
than equality and care,
the poor can just wallow
in despair and die of starvation
and squalid degradation.
While the fortunate can awe
at an international space station,
and visions of new beginnings
in an alien atmosphere.

A destiny in stars,
humanity on Mars
and the meek will be
shipped off like convicts
to build the golden paths
and the construction of
a new society,
guinea pigs of life

in a brave new world
Insanity unfurled
in slavery of a
new civilisation.
If that's what you call it
civilised.
With no regard for life,
Man kind civilly
traded in destruction
of the other
eight point seven million
species they shared
their home with.

Their is a human race
rich in stupidity their greed,
and money was the seed
for war and the annihilation
of morality and sensibility
and sensitivity to the beauty
in the gift of life
and the world.

There is a human race and
it's intellect is misplaced,
as self appointed custodians
of galaxies and distant clusters.
We are all the losers.



©Jacqui Slade

When the stars fell like rain
the darkest of nights fell.
Skies descended and death
silhouettes swallowed hope.

Cosmic despair fell down
in fiery orbs weeping,
and the cadaverous
crescent churned oceans tides.

Tempered the winds howled
in lamentation, the
Earth mother spun with
silent revolution.

The birds whooshing feathers
eerily flitting in
their mournful departure
and the demise of man.


©Jacqui Slade

A person can speak a thousand words
And still fall short of grand or ill works,
Listen well if you will, these may in fact
Be my last statements,
Should I die tomorrow,
Next week,
Next month,
Next year or in decades,
I've written all you can withstand,
Expressed my feelings too soon.
Why should you need to care? I'll write letters of
Apology, sent via telegram from the moon.

****, but don't ******,
Be hidden in plain sight,
No matter where the evil lives,
How powerful the evil may be,
The night shall come to slay the body of evil and banish it's soul to Seclum.