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There are meteoroids falling into my head
Meteors coming into the sky of my mind

I have no where to go

There's a voice
that whispers sad things
when I'm happy

I'm soft when you're around
then you leave me alone
with a stranger's voice

I'm losing myself
I love the idea of dying soon

There is a shooting star I see in a dream

A fire in the sky

I'm not afraid
of dying with a smile

Finally the voice
will explode
into bits of a meteorite
ryn Oct 2014

you take
me into your
me upon       the
sultry limbs      of
your        nebulous
grace•the expansive
arms of the universe,
where            peaceful
slumber awaits•your
poetry    laden comets,
bore      abundant love,
all towed     in freights•
gingerly drinking in the depth
of your face•seemingly blindfolded,
i'll tread each dark  crater•my head in
a swirl        of your  majestic         trace•
where        I would stumble         upon
V              a love ever so...             V
/     |    |   || \
(                              )
(                                    )
An ocean splashed the sky;
clouds little boats for angels to
reel in stars upon will; their gills
glow for human eyes to scope-out
and connect the dots, one by one.

The moon a forest for the alien
gophers; burrowing amongst its
craters, feasting on passing comets,
and yet; we fail to see.

A rainbow, for the giants after their
grievances, sprout a smile on
mile-long faces, as the days got harder
to stay sunny.

Drear for the shadows, the little
rats of the night, hissing at morn
and hurting, shrinking as
golden lasers black-
All feedback is appreciated!
Keith Mitchell Oct 2018
Zeus and Amphitrite
edge of the sea
reflecting down
looking up
god or goddess
reflecting the same
draped in gold
Hercules Coronal Borealis Great Wall
superstructure feathered on the shoulders
skyward brilliance reflecting
shaking future stars
comets meteors meteoroids asteroids meteorites
rain down around
deafening sound of the greatest thunder bolt
hear me
hear her
**** this
**** that
roll good times
patience is virtue
zero point
generosity kindness affection pleasantness
waiting on the ecliptic plane
sun and heavens
hummingbirds dragonflies soaring creatures
rise out of the abyss
propelled and lifted
seahorse air bubbles octopuses chant
straight ******* propulsion ****** velocity
magic of the darkness
ready set giddy up
ryn Oct 2014
Arrange my mind's galaxies and planets.

Sedate angry asteroids and burning comets.

Align for me my heart's constellations.

Clear the clouded nebulae in my intentions.

Turn the moon gently to look upon me,

So I may find the sea of tranquillity...

Clouded, dishevelled mind. Want peace...
Ilion gray Jul 2018
The sun has come up-
We are scarcely draped
In sheets and skin,
shadows and sweat thrown
Through cracked
crooked wooden blinds,
Uriel was
pouring sunshine into the
openings of our
broken shutters at dusk..
I could hear your blood rise-
As a comets inner crust,
Raging down
From heaven
Restlessly escaping
Like a drunken scotch devil-
Searching for treasure
With the bottle as his shovel.
I could hear your pores erupting
Through tiny chasms of
Your skin,
I want you to know-
I love you
Knowing now,
I have witnessed you,
Are born
Not falling,
How they crawl down
The stomach of clouds,
Then dive into the stone,
The impact resonates
through everything/
Shaking silence from
The shingles of caves
Lodged deep
In the outstretched fingers of
Beneath floating valleys
that are holy,
And secret streams rushing through
Mid heaven, dripping down
The staircase of wind crashing
Through rooftops,
Seeping through ceilings
Where sons and daughters
a dream,
all things revealing!
King Panda Aug 2017
a crocus opens and
closes with the stream of
midnight moon.

the playmate of exhaustion
crosses the room
in his heavy, black boots
to close the curtains.

goodbye, light.
goodbye, pride of lions
and boy transformed
into a werewolf.

a scratch
of larceny,
the cuddle of
maple leaves rotting,
the magnet spinning
in rocket-ship orbit.

all secrets held in
in hair compounded
into strings of
black opal,
and limbs stenciling
comets around
five feet of woman.

nothing in the talk
can suffocate—a quick
and easy birth of
ecstasy and the emotional
sidestep into the dark
of slumber,
seemingly feminine but
dreams strong as
barbed wire.

when to sleep?

a question finger-written
on my chest.
grace Jan 20
reverse space
pushing everything in
'stead of vacuuming it out
the stars are blue and followed by sharp teeth
beautiful lights, **** anglers
light shows in the midnight
free falling jellyfish comets  
crushing water
i’m pinned to the bottom and i can’t breathe.
suffocating on starfish
in an empty, forever expanding sea.
I really like deep sea creatures cause theyre really fascinating to me an the Mariana Trench is pretty cool too.
abe Aug 2018
in the wee hours of night
i've seen you
dancing with the stars
playing tag with the moon
juggling neptune and mars
making the comets swoon
really, you are quite the sight
in the wee hours of night
A thought from Frost*
"Fire or ice in the end?"
Fire is revenge,
Ice is cruel deep and dark,
both will come,
Like icy comets,
That heat up when breaking apart,
Not from the heavens,
But from the human heart.
*Robert Frost's poem
Eleanor Sinclair Sep 2018
Here I am laying, filling my head
At 3 A.M rerunning every word I have said
I suppose my tears are the blood from my soul
Happy or sad it overflows out of me and I can’t seem to feel whole
I don’t want to die anymore because things aren’t too bad
But I’m tired constantly and I miss my mom and dad
That’s the thing about being an adult
You make the tough decisions yourself and if they’re wrong it’s your fault
You choose right from wrong and no one is there to tell you otherwise
No one is there to catch you in your lies or wipe the stream of tears from your eyes
Momma isn’t there to hold your hair when you *****
Daddy isn’t there to point to the sky at the comets
It’s more like a hollow and dark lonely place
Days feel like years yet weeks seem to race
I suppose we take for granted our youthful state
We don’t know what we have until it’s a little too late
I’d give anything to go back to a day before loans
Spend a day with my family before I wanted to become skin and bones
Give my brother a hug and tell him I care
Tell my father that the things he calls my mother are wrong and unfair
Play with my dog before the cancer took him away
Show up to work with enthusiasm as though it was my first day
See my town like I did through an adolescent lens
Bike through my neighborhood to the house that once was my friend’s
Run in the yard and climb that one crooked tree
Relive the trip to the forest that ended with bees
Laugh at myself when I fell off my bike
Not take myself so seriously and be willing to admit who’s right
Tell my sister “thank you” for yelling at me to not speak English
She kept me fluent and that was her wish
Go trick or treating from door to door
“Here’s some candy, would you like some more?”
My eyes fill with liquid nostalgia as they sparkle and close
My head bobs and nods as I catch it then doze
I miss the world before it got complex
Before I had to worry about what came next
I’d live for a day at the age of ten
Before things began to hurt and I was mistreated by men
I’d watch the stars with Jessica and talk about life
I’d give her a hug after a sleepover and get back on my bike
Pedaling home in the cool fall breeze
Everything was simpler back then and I took it for granted with ease
I wish to go back to a time almost half my life ago
I wake from my sleep to realize it can't be so
astrid Feb 8
I lay down
your creamy expanse
unto the marble surface,
as if milk made love with
the stars in the galaxies.

I write you out
as pleasant simmer
of pulverized charcoal
and bloated glycerine.

I splatter and spread
fine dusts of Carica
in temperate motion
to touch the sleek edges
of the vanilla branches
on your person.

I hold and dip
my feathery digit
amongst rose water
to grasp the flowers
that frames your face,
like light morganites
that hail from the west.

I cast you off
as the blue sea engulfs
the life from the waters
where life swims with
stable beginnings
and whirlwinds of stories.

I finish you
by letting molten pearls
lither your dark onyx orbs,
surrounded by your lakes of gelatinous almond,
like shooting comets
finding rest on land,
as lightning's faint and close
but never quite touch.

I made you
with intrinsic detail and rawness
to give you the life
that you may never have.
may these words show its own form of art.

090219; 07:29 --- revison due to incompleteness from original file
Epi Arias Aug 2017
The calamity of heavily contrasting signs and symbols,
the reversed heaving,
the trot,
the stomp,
the waving,
the white spit vitriol,
the desperate amnesia
that seems to say:
“we are the ‘only’, you are the ‘not’”,
while compulsively edging
an 0rgasm of void and persistently closed chapters-
all these things and more, we witness with glassy eyes
as we listen, incredulously,
to the sound of an impossible static
being emitted from the central radio:
a sunken diatribe
that clings to clothing
and shocks the keys out of hands.
Home is further and further away, we note.
And it’s true.
(I confess that I am locked out.)

Well, it’s almost September,
so Fall will soon be here.
We can feel the leaves molting
into a dark crimson beneath our skins,
the sound of rustling foliage
coming from our hands
as we squeeze them into fists.

We can intimate a rolling pressure
behind our eyes
as the barometer trembles
into the unlit future
(know that it may be cold there).

We can be privy to visions of greater circumstance
without opening our chests to the beats of others and, often, do.
(A drum, after all, is a hum, spoken.)

The thing is that the end is here with us
and we are coddling its resolve
since taking a leap towards an oncoming fist
would taste too much like copper.
So we recline our chairs
into open spaces
to profess the rights of monsters,
helping to file the very teeth that bite us
because we feel too intelligent to be unfair,
too frail to finger the contours of a rabid insecurity.
(Remember, the keys are on the floor now.)

Meanwhile, it’s almost Fall
and the sky is blue
and some streams of dark crimson trickle into the gutter, quietly,
or is it loudly?
(Some of we can’t recline into space without falling like comets.)

You see, there are greater angels to what we live.
And though we may not hear their flight
through those trajectories carved by arrows in the sky,
they are right above us
weaving tapestries of blood
so that we may create smoke clouds
when burning rightly,
or is it brightly?
(A drum is a sigil, unheard.)
Yuki Feb 14
Why making wishes
on a dying creature
as a shooting star?
So beautiful death
can seem if seen
from a distance.
For me comets are
named after all the
people who decided
my sky wasn’t their
place anymore.
Steve Aug 2018
Close your eyes and count to seven
Look out  for angels which art in heaven
Say your prayers and say them well
Keep clear of the devil who lurks in ****
Simple rules for us to learn
While planets turn and comets burn
Moons abound, new stars are found
And the Arabs are expelled from the promised land.
Thank you God for making it clear
So they can normalise their sins
Without shedding a tear
Close your eyes and count to ten
While the terrors of the past
Revolve again.
This is happening in front of our eyes. May a God forgive us.
Evan Stephens Apr 29
My skin's
your gaze's
brook -

Join me,
even if
to reach me
you must use
the milky way
for stepping

Each mile is
a conspiracy
against us.

Each hour of
division is a
poison that
I gladly drink
for you,
but it doesn't

You, with
you inspire
poems that
have always

No matter
how much
I beg you
to lay there
and let me
read to you
by the light
of comets,
you can't
hear me.

You are
too far -

My skin's
your gaze's
We are one with the stars
In dust we form our history
Our paths may have diverged
Yet the scheme where we belong--
Kept the dust inside our body

We are one with the moons,
The comets that stretched out the sky
We are a whisper within a storm
A flicker on a candle
A tear under the rain

The dust will grow old and wither
Like the lives that succeeded the first
But the dust will meet its head
The dust will return to the scheme--
To the scheme where we all belong
Tammy M Darby Apr 14
When the Israelites return to the Golan Heights
And ancient blazing comets cross the planet fly
The Muslin Empire will rise from the saltwater’s bed
Dark and dying will be the flickering stars

From black oil oceans, he shall be birthed
Nurtured on the hearth of power and coin
Disguised in the words of Christianity
Weapons from every nation he calls forth

Deaths flag shall be the victor in the last war
The Muslim Empire will rise
From the depths of the Dead sea's floor
Blood against blood
Man, against man
Till on this earth, humans are no more

All Rights Reserved. @ Copyright Tammy M. Darby April 14, 2019.
All Material Stored in Author Base
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