"habitable" poems
I gaze into my crystal ball, discern amidst the haze
A world so far removed from that of now, it would amaze,
Where catapulting incidents collide like billiard *****
And sense defies belief as renaissance makes the calls.
Blueprints fresh from Internet supply the suitcase blast
Where the terrorist’s, simultaneously, ignite in cities cast
From Moscow to New York, Beijing to Berlin
Gay Paree to London town then way out east again,
Budapest, Jerusalem Calcutta burning all
And Tokyo is levelled in a ghastly nuclear pall.
Kneejerk reaction triggers contrails in the blue
Crisscrossing all the continents obliterating through
An overkill so vicious that in seconds it is past
And the living cling in horror, bearing witness… aghast.
Restraints are erased as the opportunists dash
Flotillas from the Spratleys sprint to occupy and cash
In on the minerals, oil and potential food supplies
Of uncontaminated nations found beneath Pacific skies.
Hindi, Jew and Muslim settle scores bereft with years
Of resentment accrued in a flood of blood and tears.
A sudden realisation of immensity of loss
Curtails the destruction in retrenchment across
The habitable outposts, the dearth of supply
And the daunting prospects of a nuclear winter sky.
Global collapse of all electronic gear
No power, no phones, and no cars now…for years.
Electromagnetic impulse put paid to all that
And the day is as dark as the cold night is black.
And here all we sit, in the here and the now
On the verge of catastrophes’ teetering tower,
With a fools pudgy finger just inches above
The nuclear button…and all that we love.
……You fear the insanity, sense the insane
Knowing that people like this are holding the reign?
Knowing that volatility strikes
Like the shot of a gun and the ****** of a knife.
I don’t have the answers to hand
But someone out there, knows how…and can.
The sands of time are running thin
URGENTLY needed a LEADER...to WIN!
M.
Planet Earth
6 March 2019
Mar 6, 2019
Mar 6, 2019 at 12:46 AM UTC
I exist in a world of careful structure
Taken out of Chaos and made habitable
By strict planning and strict ruling—
Structure is imperative
Order keeps us going
Deviations are not allowed
If you wish to live in my world
You must learn to follow rules
Reliability is key
Being dependable as the rising sun
Predictable as a new moon
Always infallible
Disappointments are not tolerated
Insufficient will be cast away
Deviations are not allowed
So if you can’t be trusted
Then you don’t belong here
There will be order in my house
For in games of two, there can be no others
There
Are
Rules
And they exist to keep us out of Chaos
They exist because structure
Ensures that we don’t collapse
So when your eyes are wandering
You are marking yourself as inconstant
Dangerous
Unacceptable
And I will stop at nothing
Until you’ve suffered for every sweetness you’ve laid at another’s feet
I will stop at nothing
Until you’ve learned that you must always choose me
I will burn you for every betrayal
And some will call me jealous
Dec 27, 2011
Dec 27, 2011 at 5:41 PM UTC
If all a top physicist knows
About the Truth be true,
Then, for all the so-and-so's,
Futility and grime,
Our common world contains,
We have a better time
Than the Greater Nebulae do,
Or the atoms in our brains.
Marriage is rarely bliss
But, surely it would be worse
As particles to pelt
At thousands of miles per sec
About a universe
Wherein a lover's kiss
Would either not be felt
Or break the loved one's neck.
Though the face at which I stare
While shaving it be cruel
For, year after year, it repels
An ageing suitor, it has,
Thank God, sufficient mass
To be altogether there,
Not an indeterminate gruel
Which is partly somewhere else.
Our eyes prefer to suppose
That a habitable place
Has a geocentric view,
That architects enclose
A quiet Euclidian space:
Exploded myths - but who
Could feel at home astraddle
An ever expanding saddle?
This passion of our kind
For the process of finding out
Is a fact one can hardly doubt,
But I would rejoice in it more
If I knew more clearly what
We wanted the knowledge for,
Felt certain still that the mind
Is free to know or not.
It has chosen once, it seems,
And whether our concern
For magnitude's extremes
Really become a creature
Who comes in a median size,
Or politicizing Nature
Be altogether wise,
Is something we shall learn.
2.3k
El sol dentro del día
El frío dentro del sol.
Calles sin nadie
autos parados
Todavía no hay nieve
hay viento viento
Arde todavía
en el aire helado
un arbolito rojo
Hablo con él al hablar contigo
Estoy en un cuarto abandonado del lenguaje
Tú estás en otro cuarto idéntico
O los dos estamos
en una calle que tu mirada ha despoblado
El mundo
imperceptiblemente se deshace
Memoria
desmoronada bajo nuestros pasos
Estoy parado a la mitad de esta línea
no escrita
Las puertas se abren y cierran solas
El aire
entra y sale por nuestra casa
El aire
habla a solas al hablar contigo
El aire
sin nombre por el pasillo interminable
No se sabe quién está del otro lado
El aire
vuelve aire todo lo que toca
El aire
con dedos de aire disipa lo que digo
Soy aire que no miras
No puedo abrir tus ojos
No puedo cerrar la puerta
El aire se ha vuelto sólido
Esta hora tiene la forma de una pausa
La pausa tiene tu forma
Tú tienes la forma de una fuente
no de agua sino de tiempo
En lo alto del chorro de la fuente
saltan mis pedazos
el fui el soy el no soy todavía
Mi vida no pesa
El pasado se adelgaza
El futuro es un poco de agua en tus ojos
Ahora tienes la forma de un puente
Bajo tus arcos navega nuestro cuarto
Desde tu pretil nos vemos pasar
Ondeas en el viento más luz que cuerpo
En la otra orilla el sol crece
al revés
Sus raíces se entierran en el cielo
Podríamos ocultarnos en su follaje
Con sus ramas prendemos una hoguera
El día es habitable
El frío ha inmovilizado al mundo
El espacio es de vidrio
El vidrio es de aire
Los ruidos más leves erigen
súbitas esculturas
el eco las multiplica y las dispersa
Tal vez va a nevar
Tiembla el árbol encendido
Ya está rodeado de noche
Al hablar con él hablo contigo
2.3k
~
The death of that innocent child
Changes the map of consciences, not of the world
Again proved that our education is wrong
The religion of the people turns to transgressions
When blood stained in the sky
Our love has become non-existence
Teaches me to think of another new war!
For the New Earth a habitable
~
@ Musfiq us shaleheen
Sep 4, 2015
Sep 4, 2015 at 4:34 PM UTC
I have looked towards a million worlds tonight,
fearful that there might be more like ours,
where despair and anger rage and reign,
hiding between hollows and sea slapped shores.
Land lust.
Territorial.
Imperial.
From lizards to lesser beasts and higher mortals,
there is an extreme decadence in achieving life;
primordial slime where time is irrelevant
and chance, they say, defies the odds of a God.
Needs must
Territorial
Ethereal
Exploring to exploit and crudely anoint
another New World is the genome dynamic.
This surpasses mere survival and squats
with dictatorial ardour in the heart of our universe.
Feb 8, 2012
Feb 8, 2012 at 4:40 AM UTC
My roots aren't here
They never were
I planted some crops
But they were imported
An ideal situation this land may be
To the adaptable, changing and innovative breeds
It is habitable to the natives and hybrids that are able to flourish
But me, my roots come from a different tree
They belong somewhere else
They always have
I can survive in new elements
But only with proper care and chemicals
The artificial adaptations eventually take their wear
And usually from the inside out
Without the natural nourishment I whither
So as thankful as I am for a land that harvested growth
It is essential to my survival that I find my proper home
May 22, 2014
May 22, 2014 at 1:54 AM UTC
It's already hard enough to say anything accurately
without further obfuscating and camouflaging the soul.
The faces in the funeral pews are impassive, impatient
and the dead woman cares not what's said, isn't even present.
The poet gets innumerable do-overs, it's one of man's wonders,
revises his vision of his mother and plays her piano, posthumously.
Why not say it simply? Hers was a comity and a tragedy.
As are ours. And perform the history that surrounds us.
Are caskets boats? The ship of death rides Charon's waves
or perhaps on that solitary day you happily kayak to the huckleberries.
Is the deeper sadness incomplete achievement or never to have tried?
Any attempt to decide this question for others is to badly behave.
The pablum of Christianity, esp. the Catholics, re the after life
must be rejected. It's necessary. To be replaced by community,
perfection of the human project, nature's intelligent partner.
Dusty, sadly habitable houses along the funeral route, shapeless
people crossing themselves when ambulances or hearses pass.
I wanted to describe the sweetness of her life, how she was part
of the problem and part of the solution. How love and evolution
are passed like loaves from person to person down the generations.
Find the humor in the cholera. When my father died
he waved like a surfer riding a wave or a clown riding
an elephant out the circus tent. Mom follows the same law.
The many ways a spear can pierce a brave warrior's jawbone or armor.
Aug 11, 2015
Aug 11, 2015 at 4:44 PM UTC
This message is coming to you on the
Cee Haitch Zee. This is the
Circumstellar Habitable Zone
for those who don't know astronomy.
I'm god, see, from the other side of the sun.
Yeah. I’m the omnipotent, omniscient
and magnificent one, or, if you can look at me directly,
I'm the Dazzling One.
Now the reason for this xenology
is to tell you the secret of the suns
and to vent all that cosmic stuff,
including the terrestrial file
on life and death, the splendid and the vile,
religion, and why I **** innocent children sometimes.
There. That orta be enough for a while.
So look. I’ll keep it really simple here.
The reason for everything is,
it’s um, gosh. Well. Would you believe?
I don't have this immediately in front of me.
And anyway, it's been a very long time
since I dragged you out of slime.
Now don't go getting emotional here,
because I'll delegate this to Harahel,
he's the Angel of Knowledge, or maybe Gabriel.
Although I suppose we could leave it
till the Day of Trumpets, judgement and hell,
y'know, and go all traditional.
But I really don't mean to be threatening
at this stage,
so I'll get back to you on this one later,
and then I'll give you a shout.
Yeah. This is god calling,
over and out.
Mike T Minehan
Feb 1, 2014
Feb 1, 2014 at 11:01 AM UTC
Be with me in ****** footprints / in your mom's silverware sets / in stucco walls
I want to sleep on dark leather couches with you.
Tell me more about cable:
I want you to introduce me to damp grass on football fields that we skateboarded to underneath the stars that I was with when i was away from you
Hello, earthling!
Let's do normal Earth things together (I could be a person for you)
I fixed the thermostat so that my bedroom can be habitable for human beans such as yourself
Drink six Diet Cokes with me so we can put six dead ladie bugs inside the bottles and BlowThemUpWithFire
"Yes, I know about fire! I've seen it all before OK! And I want to pretend I haven't so that i can ooooh and aawwwhhh when you show me !!!!"
I want to be a person for you.
Spray paint my bones gold when you're done crafting my skin into a turban so that I know it's real - I made this for you
Oct 18, 2013
Oct 18, 2013 at 9:32 PM UTC
You left me like Chernobyl
In a split second you decided you were going to combust and leave me alone with your toxic nuclear waste
You left silent playgrounds inside my ribcage, abandoned because no one wants to come back for fear of catching the radiation you left behind
If you listen quietly enough you can hear what we used to sound like
But how can you do that with all the mess
With all the books lying on the ground and every picture we've ever taken and every word that you've ever said
If you take a closer look there's a lot of pages with "I'm sorry for the mess" written in them
But sorry isn't what you say when someone has lost everything
The street signs are so damaged that I can't even find my way home anymore
Or maybe it's just because you left and I have a home anymore
They say this city is haunted but I know for certain that's not true because once you left you never came back
It's been 29 years and I'm still here buried under the rubble of this disaster caused by your radioactive fingertips
How long am I supposed to wait to become habitable again?
Every night I've wished this explosion was an earthquake so that I could have something to blame but the one thing I learned from you leaving is that there's no such thing as aftershocks in heartbreak
Feb 27, 2016
Feb 27, 2016 at 10:04 AM UTC
Mama; you are the Sun
As I am the Earth
Naive and innocent from birth
But with each revolution full of
Mistakes,
Enlightenment,
Achievements,
Tragedy.
I grew more habitable.
You spoke but only truths.
And though you’d wipe the tears
I’d shed upon the stars,
You’d say
“Be strong, life is tough, prepare yourself”,
Phrases echoing throughout the galaxy.
One however lingered over my head like the moon
“Knowledge is power. Don’t believe everything you’re told.”
I haven’t mama,
Knowledge is oxygen.
Essential to my existence, I truly appreciate thee
Eternal gravitational pull: Protection,
Light you shed: Guidance,
Blanket of warmth despite the season: Love.
From an aspirant of glory,
To the brightest star I’ve laid eyes upon,
Thank You.
Jul 29, 2012
Jul 29, 2012 at 11:06 PM UTC
Maybe I am an alien.
Some extraterrestrial being, trapped here because this was the only place habitable for whatever it is that I am.
Granted, this thought posits others such as "how did I get here?"
I can't answer that.
All the photos of me when I was an infant support this alien theory.
"Look at that strange little creature there." I'll say, knowing that whatever it is, isn't me.
Not now, anyway.
Sep 1, 2010
Sep 1, 2010 at 9:07 PM UTC
What are we doing as a species?
Where are we going to end up?
When do we decide to look within?
How do we go back to how it was before?
Why did it get to this point?
This male dominated society we live in
There was once coexisting unisex tribes
Goddess worshipping lovers
Plant foraging, wisdom consuming
Harmonious humans
There was a time when everything was a mystery to our ancestors
In this day and age
Before we've been somewhere or seen something
We've seen a picture
Word of mouth has made sure that we're not in doubt
But there was a time that every new horizon
Bought suspense, surprise and uncertainty
A time when we had to work together to survive
Learn how to do things that mattered to stay alive
When exploring our own consciousness wasn't a crime
What are we now?
The majority
Spoon fed junk all our precious lives
We are forgetting that we are primates, cousins of the great apes
We're forgetting our extraordinary circumstances
Alive on a habitable planet
Evolved through processes just learning to explain
In a minute amount of time
A universe the size our minds alone fail to fathom
But I'm going too far
The reality we're supposed to believe in is money and cars!
Aug 6, 2014
Aug 6, 2014 at 3:58 PM UTC
It hurts how far away we are from who we were together.
Like souls inverted, fused by magic, and then pulled apart.
Stretched across the universe by rough hands larger than anything; calloused fingers that whisper “I know what is best for you.”
If time is in distance in the great big universe, maybe someday we’ll soar so far
that we will find each other.
In wrinkles or in recklessness, I hope your lips meet mine again,
with the epiphany of what real loving is.
Everyday I see you in the smallest details, wrapped in tiny envelopes and parcels all from Fate.
Reading the signs is like reading your soul, in pieces that make you feel the world all at once.
I am so uncomfortably aware of how small I am
within this Creation that holds our habitable speck,
which only proves to me that something so great deserves to exist on it.
And if we are not destined to create a glory for our histories, I hope we meet as friends and lovers, and different stars in different worlds, and souls who seem to know each other
but do not understand why.
In past lives, I know you held my hand. In future ones, I hope you will. In present, I am always wishing you were around so our fingers could intertwine;
like our paths, always intersecting in this mysterious void filled with so much magic.
I am not certain how the world turns or why we grow or where we truly are, but I am certain you will always be my heart, a microscopic ***** in a sea of billions of stars.
I love you like the way the Universe is, always expanding and forever flowing through time.
Feb 2, 2014
Feb 2, 2014 at 12:10 AM UTC
What if the stars around us
are of Sentient life devoid ?
Binary stars and Giant blues
are common in the void.
Binaries do not provide
a habitable clime
Blue Giant Stars burn fast and short-
Evolution needs more time.
Giant Reds live long enough
but keep few planets warm.
Perhaps upon a distant rock
there is some primal goo
but that is quite a ways away
from beings like me and you.
So please be better stewards
of this third rock from the sun
That lovely little yellow dwarf
round which our race is run.
Dec 31, 2011
Dec 31, 2011 at 10:32 AM UTC
1. FUNCTION
a function (of a function (of a function)⭠⭠⮪
↳ function (of a function (of a function)) ↑
↑
function (of a function (of a function)) ↑
⇅ ↑
function (of a function (of a function))→ → ⤴
2. CONTRAPTION
a cute curvy carbon contraption
that salivates at the ringing of a bell
that clamps shut when its hairs are touched
that flies south for the winter
3. GREEN
is the earthworm that eats dirt and ***** soil
the lichen that makes barren rock habitable
the bees that pollinate so many plants
the euglena
i seem to breathe, yet am none of these. this makes me
a broken Bigbelly blinking in the dark
a traffic light saying wait, wait, wait to an empty sidewalk
Feb 4, 2020
Feb 4, 2020 at 9:35 PM UTC
The great lines, you quote, don't
stir me... you know my vexation,
with the twinkling lights, that don't move.
The colors, don't mix... I move
from death to death, to understand
life, and fail miserably. The body
does not open. Seducers
ready to jump for a bite, to tear
off my columns, my domes.
Yes, I give, give away my precious
heart, time, my infallible attention
to heal you.I don't demand any
dough, remaining in penury, do not
ask for the factors. My arithmetic
has failed. Cannot solve the puzzles
lost in maze of juggleries.
It was your world. I am living
at a binary planet, scarcely habitable.
Yet I am happy in myself
looking at the grains of sand on my
hands. You know, you cannot
write like me... like me.
Sep 27, 2016
Sep 27, 2016 at 11:31 PM UTC
.
The search goes on for life
outside our sphere of knowledge.
A galactic researcher expresses his desire
for answers before he dies.
He might have to settle for afterwards.
Jun 6, 2012
Jun 6, 2012 at 2:19 PM UTC
This is ground control
I sneaked in to give you a call,
it’s been a while and I yet wonder
are you still floating ‘round your tin can?
Since you launched in sixty-nine
not much has changed on planet Earth,
though Voyager one has left the system
recording sounds of Interstellar Space.
Its batteries are running low
but then other probes are on their way
rest assure, they are not searching for you
you’ve been forgotten long ago.
Scientists still question whether
indeed there is life on Mars,
planning missions to get there
we’ll leave in fifteen years or so.
Some are drawing domes forsaking
tragedy, creatively painting our escape.
Mickey Mouse has packed his suitcase,
left Minnie waiting in a bar.
Modern telescopes point to discover
exoplanets not too far, just in case,
some residing habitable zones
orbiting nearby stars.
This is ground control
I hear footsteps in the corridor,
have to run will call you again
until then I’ll keep taking care,
of your Diamond Dogs.
Jan 12, 2018
Jan 12, 2018 at 8:49 AM UTC
There's a storm in my teapot
I accidentally let loose
Now the geese are staying here for winter
As the dog waits for a golden egg
I'm finding ways to distract myself
from the clothesline
Where I used to hang your shirts
The sun is boiling over in the ***
Little children are dancing around the eye in a future
I can never have
Curl inbetween the pages of the book I have yet to write
Moon whispering tiny secrets to me over breakfast when she should be asleep
I get love letters from other habitable planets in my oven
I never get a chance to read them
Blame the stars and there infinite possibilities as you try to organize them on your spice rack
Grandma will be here soon to show you how it's done
With her practical magic
Apr 17, 2016
Apr 17, 2016 at 10:29 PM UTC
It’s said He sees all,
Your acts and even your thoughts,
And scores how you perform
Not for self but for others,
Things you do
To make this place more habitable,
Words you speak
That bring more solace than pain,
Hands you touch
That feel thrilled than shrunk,
Eyes your eyes fall on
Light up with hope.
It’s also said,
He sees all but is unmoved
Because He can’t help it.
The Good and the Bad
Are both his making
And he is part of both,
So he can’t reward or punish,
How can he,
The One who has created
A compartmentalized world?
May 6, 2013
May 6, 2013 at 4:12 AM UTC
I love it out here
In the middle of grasslands and
Old houses built on farms
The sky's the limit out here
The air is pure and just right
Giving me crazy ideas about flying and living too
Everything is clear
You may pass 2 cars on the way into town
Dilapidated houses and barns
Scattered all about
They may not be habitable
But they still look homely to me
I'd take this over the smog
And smoke of the cities
That make you choke
Over the people tons and thousands of them
That riddle you with claustrophobia And pretenses with hidden intentions
I'd take the quiet loneliness over the inability to sleep due to noise inflictions
Every. Single. Day. I would choose this breathtaking place
Mar 19, 2015
Mar 19, 2015 at 2:27 AM UTC
Aquí, proa de Europa preñadamente en *****
aquí, talón sangrante del bárbaro Occidente;
áspid en piedra viva, que el mar dispersa y junta;
pánica Iberia, silo del sol, haza crujiente.
Tremor de muerte, eterno tremor escarnecido,
ávidamente orzaba la proa hacia otra vida,
en tanto que el talón, en tierra entrometido,
pisaba, horrible, el rostro de América adormida.
¡Santiago y cierra España! Derrostran con las uñas
y con los dientes rezan a un Dios de infierno en ristre,
encielan a sus muertos, entierran las pezuñas
en la más ardua historia que la Historia registre.
Alángeles y arcángeles se juntan contra el hombre.
Y el hambre hace su presa, los túmulos su agosto.
Tres años y cien caños de sangre Abel, sin nombre...
(Insoportablemente terrible es su arregosto.)
Madre y maestra mía, triste, espaciosa España,
he aquí a tu hijo. Úngenos, madre. Haz
habitable tu ámbito. Respirable tu extraña
paz. Para el hombre, Paz. Para el aire, madre, paz.
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