"interplanetary" poems
*Milky way around me
stars, sun, planets, the moon
interstellar, interplanetary
orbits, i commune
The heavens surround me
galaxies, constellations, nebulae
across my cosmic journey
for revolutions i'll stay
The cosmos envelope me
dark stars, black holes, supernova
flames in my tail I see
celestial brightness of my strata
Heavenly bodies you and me
falling star, giant star, dwarf star
my love is quasar-like energy
a bolide of us is not far
Astronomical intensity
alpha centauri,sirius, achernar
encompasses their enormity
unlike pulsars, we are shooting stars*
Jan 12, 2013
Jan 12, 2013 at 8:19 AM UTC
The soliloquy of the night,
what we think as
falling stars and meteors,
make time and space immaterial
in the transmission of pain across light years.
Sitting here alone, a sentinel
to pain's interplanetary travel,
and witness of it transforming
in to other forms, eloquent,
I hear them when my eyes,
acquire a sense, primordial
receive the dark waves
of pain in my veins
a volcano palpitating to blow up
in to fireworks of emotions.
Everywhere eyes could travel, is filled
by night, thick, gooey, agglutinated;
then the meditative darkness,
dreams up a beam of gentle light,
out of its deep transcending yearning,
to speak to itself,to get an alchemy work on that pain
then, the pain itself becomes a haunting journey with words
this ,is how my love, my songs
in the midnight of my lonely soul, are born.
Jul 30, 2015
Jul 30, 2015 at 12:14 PM UTC
Equations of creepiness exist beyond the surface of interplanetary suckers or tendrils.
So, tell me, how horizontal are your expressions?
As girls are not dissimilar to counting backwards on a scale of oratory genius, then
how far do you deviate from what is considered to be the norm?
Although foliage may display her open and ontological beauty at this uncertain period of nothingness,
I unravel myself from this Egyptian tomb of aborted eloquence.
Just be yourself, please.
Jun 20, 2014
Jun 20, 2014 at 12:02 AM UTC
oh, **** i'm so full of love it's spilling out of me
like bullet wounds, like i've been court martialed,
like i'm the pinpoint of a broken sheet of glass,
the part from which everything else shatters;
of course i'm the centre of the universe,
who else would be? who else could love this way,
fierce and terrible and hating? who else other than me
could break the universe for another chance at hello
or at two thousand and nineteen?
which isn't to say i'm manic. which isn't to say
that i don't cry in the shower and scream in the car.
i do. but when i do, i'm the main event;
nobody booked tickets to see anybody but me here.
don't kid yourself, world. don't make me laugh.
don't act like everything is okay when i'm breaking the baby-bird bones
of my fingers every time someone else talks.
me, the human stress ball.
me, twenty stories tall and universe-filled with love,
nothing else can even come close. i'm ******* godzilla,
i'm interplanetary, i'm that giant ******* marshmallow man
from ghostbusters getting shot at by the heroes.
maybe there's just too much of me to love the way i need
to be loved; completely, obsessively, like an illness.
oh, god, i want to be loved like i'm sick.
not just another hospital bed but the whole **** ward
all for me. all eyes on me. nobody looking anywhere but me
and *oh, please, i'm fine, really,
i don't need all this attention.*
like i'm daring the world to divert it away.
a birthday list of gifts:
- a fifth of whiskey
- a gun with one bullet
- the attention that people get from the crowd below before they jump off a building
i don't think i'm asking for too much here.
i feel like i'm one of those unlucky ******** born on christmas day
who get half the presents for twice the occasion.
how cruel must god be to birth me anywhere but eden,
into a world where other people exist,
where we have jobs and say hello to store cashiers and divide up our attention like slices of mandarin.
so where's this revolution i ordered?
where are the people making me important?
i need a cause to lead and a muzzle for my heart,
and i'll burn on and out,
not like a star, but like the end of the ******* universe itself.
and here i am, acting like i matter
when i really only want to matter to you.
i don't care how you want me to revolve
as long as i'm a lone moon. as long as the tides
are all mine; see, it's a lot more complex
than me playing easy villain or anti hero. it's not
been about me this entire time.
but i can't write poems about any other subject.
Dec 23, 2020
Dec 23, 2020 at 8:13 PM UTC
Sings hymns to appease the wrath of the gods.
Plough the fallowed ground and acknowledge that feminine seductions are the source of interplanetary equilibrium.
Is that the best that you have got? Well, we know your wiles and will not succumb to your enticements, despite those expectations of the authorities.
A wet orifice certainly comes at a price, yet her warmth contains forbidden properties in the face of ritualistic defiance.
So, my heavenly being, I urge you to bow the knee in humble adoration to your anatomical deceptions.
Dec 31, 2013
Dec 31, 2013 at 3:41 PM UTC
An original creation, that's what you are
in vibrant colors nature carefully assembled,
as you sashayed through your time,till here
now all across the front page one can see you
arousing pleasure that moves me deeply,
done in bold sweeps of a brush immersed in joy
making onlookers stand agape, thrilled
mumbling inanities as none has the grasp
of the quicksilver aesthetics that rules you.
And I, obscure , at the best like a crop circle
done in the secret hours after midnight,
or a cryptic mural on a dull wall, long past it's prime
doodled by an interplanetary traveler gone astray,
a drawing in grey fading slowly in to oblivion,
yet to be deciphered is the benediction,
it carries from light years far away,
it will be gone soon as the light from galaxies far
want to make it their own, little by little each night
Am I not transient and to be forgotten soon?
But you are steadfast and adamant
very rooted in your reasoning
sprung from a center devine, we both
claim together.
"Am I not a woman and lover first?"
Your eyes, gleam, exuding a timelessness that speaks to me.
"I would only dream of lying naked under your
sweet heaving heaviness, to receive the nectar,
the transient ecstasy that gifts me the precious seed
that'd grow to heights immortal,on the bank of the milky way"
Jun 14, 2016
Jun 14, 2016 at 11:37 AM UTC
1969 Cult Mentality: Charles Manson
is asking you to “leave a sign… something witchy” at the scene of the
crime. You listen because you believe he is Jesus. You smear the word
“Pig” across the door.
1978 Cult Mentality: Jim Jones
is asking you to drink grape Kool-Aid infused with cyanide. You do this
because you have been convinced that he is “Christ the Revolution.” You
inject your child with the toxin before gulping it down.
1997 Cult Mentality: Marshall Applewhite
is asking you to tie a plastic bag around your head after you consume a mixture of phenobarbital, applesauce, and ***** You do this because you believe dying will take you to the spacecraft flying behind
Comet Hale-Bopp. You make sure you have a
five dollar bill and three quarters
in your pocket for the interplanetary toll.
Aug 11, 2015
Aug 11, 2015 at 6:38 AM UTC
In dreams
Allowing oneself
To be
Within
Without interruption,
Without distraction,
Without aberration,
Without confusion,
Is to dance among with stars of space
Void of the fear of the death.
In dreams
Swimming among the
Stellar ethers
Of interplanetary mysteries,
We see all that
Was,
All that can be,
But not,
All that will be.
Here we theorize
Or potentiality
Floating in the first and last
Of
Spaces.
But,
Because of fear,
We see such places as Death.
The deepest oceans
Hold monsters beyond imagination.
The darkest caves
Pits of fall jagged, wet, and sharp.
The dankest of houses
Holds pasts too painful to see.
Because of the fear of Death
We hold ourselves back
From being free.
A light in the dark
Is but
A comfort.
Trust oneself.
See through the dimness.
Let go.
All angels who have been
And are and will be
Have walked the dark road,
Washed in light when they arrive.
Are they they?
Are we we?
Am I you and you me?
Can it be
That we are the same,
Just molds of longitudinal and longitudinal
Circumstance?
Close your eyes and become
What you see.
Feel the cool water brush
Under your fingertips.
Above, the clouds break.
A shot of light.
Presence of a million souls unite.
We have been.
We are.
Do not let
The Fear of Death
Tell us
We Will Not Be.
Sep 22, 2014
Sep 22, 2014 at 12:07 PM UTC
the wrong atmospherics of transmission
move in uninvestigated chaotic archives
red and pink turbulent storms swarm across
deep space frequencies in imaginative
currents of pulsars
that are translated into phases
each represented in diverse
conflicting modes of expression
in obsessive grooves of consciousness
cut up components of recycled narratives
audibly fixating on vibrations
that sound across the universe
in diffused spirals of manic fluctuations
converting archaic symbols into equivalents
of dust surfaces that oxidise in intermittent epochs
and deposit a rediscovered earth
an expansive transferable construction
of accidental providence
that allows for expression in artificially generated realities
hallucinated images that float
across the consciousness of the cosmos
producing visions that punctuate rational thought
become preoccupied with the conception
of interplanetary transpeciation
counting the chronological diversity
of those that occupy the black, blank
vacuum of space
Aug 4, 2013
Aug 4, 2013 at 7:54 PM UTC
what lies in the vast frontiers of space
scientists have pondered on this very thing
they've boarded rockets to check out the place
is there only little green men a gleaming
at the far reaches of the celestial plain
scientists have pondered this very thing
inquiring earth minds taking the interplanetary train
so many worlds yet to be well investigated
at the far reaches of the celestial plain
can this orb support life and can it be populated
a glimpse of what is out there seen on Mars
so many worlds yet to be investigated
they reckon man might dwell upon a galaxy of stars
an upbeat community of scientists filled with joy
a glimpse of what is out there seen on Mars
Earthlings with state of the art technology to employ
an upbeat community of scientists filled with joy
what lies in the vast frontiers of space
they've boarded rockets to check out the place
Nov 15, 2013
Nov 15, 2013 at 7:50 AM UTC
o' come and quell
the quiet storm
the aching in my veins
we're nothing short of
astronomy in this stellar space
& the more you give in
the sweeter you taste
blueberry smoothie
my bare legs soaking sunlight
& I wish for the power
of invisibility and the tender art of
seduction
you creep up on me
like midnight mist
& the confidence you give
echoes in the distance
I only run in fright
I only run in the night
Apr 12, 2012
Apr 12, 2012 at 1:36 AM UTC
Build your MeHouse with
earth wound stardust
now
Ghost wrapped genius
Let's commune where they serve watery coffee from skeleton's/ key our knuckles dirt worthy
Build Hope's yellow nest bird
You are sand
gritty in my teeth
We are Cadillac dreams/we orchid and never lily
bruised eye and violet blue
under your Libra shadow I lift moons
we spit truth 4000 miles an hour
Come build your NowHouse with us
Apr 25, 2014
Apr 25, 2014 at 3:19 PM UTC
We found the fountainhead of the dark brimming night,
wasn't blue black as one would think, but white,
shimmering bright, flight of the pigeons, unexpected;
waves beating repeatedly against the shores, fluorescent blue poles,
seething in love and lust,bursting bright in overwhelming desire,
limitless yen to break every restraint, to merge and be only one.
put your logic aside and dive in to the phantom depths
where you reach without moving an inch in space,
blue receptacle, the cave concealing silver sparkles
she and I were yin and yang, on an exploration of the self mountain
in the uniform of beasts, though in an incognito vacation in our forest,
it's all fantasy that creates various hues, black and white too
there were no butterflies with fragile wings under the starlit night,
when we wished the night sky was full of them, flying, alighting on our bodies entwined, in a frenzy; they tickled and caressed with tender wings,
like dissipated pieces of rainbow, one following the other,
in a rare migratory path, across the horizon, in to the unknown.
the fountainhead of the night, we see it without even eyes,
interplanetary travelers we are, in our crafts, even if they look fragile,
the essence of being is beyond the realm of real,
we had out of body awareness,
both imagination and dream are filled with
undulating moon grace.
Jul 5, 2014
Jul 5, 2014 at 3:36 AM UTC
you always come home with this armor
like your hiding this great big jug of happiness in there.
is this image of her a one sided mirror?
or her bed time clothings reflection?
cutting out the curves, leaving only the armor
and these shaking words
'explain yourself! your eyes
are dull they must
glimmer for someone else!'
you are a shell within a shell
a self-sufficient snail
judging by the oxygen packs
strapped on your back
you're too good for this pollution
turning her lungs a midnight black
and you wear it well
a chest with no heartbeats
only clicks and beeps
absent minded
messages home
to the mothership
but she can see through you,
'just be gone like a demon
back to Nibiru.
circle the sun. your path
now altered in degrees.
but from your caustic debris,
your persisting memory,
still orbits me as a moon,
making me drunk and dizzy.
so still i must insist you leave me.'
and so you do
with your jug of happiness
successfully guarded
still intact
you are a fortress
a dam holding back
the ravenous waters
you cant share
with the indigenous people
here
your head floating
up in the
atmosphere
an unfamilar creature
safe inside the walls
of your space suit armor.
Jun 15, 2010
Jun 15, 2010 at 10:04 PM UTC
All our senses concatenate, building on each other
<>
this interplay is truly interplanetary,
for each of us a unique solar system,
our brains,
intricacy literally personified,
and our five senses, working
in
concatenation
our long range sensors, busy bees compiling inputs
by the nanosecond second, distilling, integrating.
blending and then reconstructing…into a whole!
*a gentle breeze ruffles the hair,
the tree swing rises and flows
of its own accord, no passported
passenger required, and a neighbor’s
American Flag, moves majestically &
impressively, whipping, dancing, yes, prancing
to a tune only it can hear,
the syncopated air currents providing
a rhythmic awesome inspiring beat…*
and the brain takes this all in, a momentary
second of a vista that is constantly flexing,
yet remains unchanged, a muscular view
of a real world, living but yet immutable,
and I utter thanks to my motor functions,
that bless me with the eyes to perceive,
the nostrils to smell sea salt flavored air,
the hearing ears that the know the imperceptible
orchestrations of silences by their absence
and their intrusion, and I touch my fingertips
to my tongue, wetted, and hyper sensitized
to that gentle breeze that decorates the
landscapes external,
*and the combinatory
addition of the all of it, into a single momentary
poem of recall, what I “knew” yesterday, & will
greet again this coming day, as an old unfamiliar
friend, who grasps me entire, and proclaims:
this is living…and the greatest satisfaction that
a speck of mortal can achieve, retain and
through impoverished words…share*
4:14am
Mon Jul 22
2 0 2 4
Jul 22, 2024
Jul 22, 2024 at 4:25 AM UTC
Push away, push away,
I'm just residue of cosmic rays.
Aurora leaks through magnetic cracks,
riding backs of solar winds.
Poke holes in the cellophane,
**** in the sunny dust;
universe can fill me up
but it's never quite enough.
My skin is bored and leaves me,
my insides throb without their shell
my mind's a traitor and defeats me
dressed like a heart, grey matter swells.
Plasma swimming, again
aimless, still seeking; charging
pent-up venom, radiation
singes the surface as my fingers explore.
If I can't feel your magnetic field
pressed against me, like the moon
I will bury pieces below your surface,
little pockets of cancer,
warm and unflinching.
Then I'm gone again,
gone to lay dormant
in the interplanetary medium:
undulating electricity,
sparks of stars to cauterize me to you.
Sep 14, 2012
Sep 14, 2012 at 6:34 PM UTC
you know how fair this skin is
and still you concentrate your eyes
burning it like the sun, supposedly obliviously
staring at whats now a dark caste
made of leather, perplexed... but smitten
throw it over your shoulders like
your grandmother's hand knit scarves
and embark into the snow
Mar 8, 2013
Mar 8, 2013 at 12:33 PM UTC
Ubermensch gone doggy between your legs,
a minute heathen, incensed prophet, whose
last rites scatter.
Moth-ornate tome in a terrible scream, whose
barbed print appeals to what lucid interval
gains thee.
Heights to take as lovers, brain's genitalia in
a bunch.
Meridians frolic in arms risen, hence, hence--
crushed tumult in touch.
An infectious groveling that other may see,
take hold.
Odd aphrodisiac, you--human half, halved,
halved and halved.
Penumbra, split-screen vision of Zion, come--
I came, I implore with birthright.
A studious damnation leaves us a leprous
expose, eye-candy as sweet as sacrament.
Skies sent and returned gone swamp-green,
can't you feel the interplanetary squelch that's
bound us?
Strange...fool of chills, hunched with electrified
hair come I, full of longing, barren.
Let us decipher one another, break judgement
over our knees, and caress one another's
downturned eyes.
Let us have a look at one another till we become
worldwide, let us perfect our immoderation.
Konstantinos Mark
Feb 22, 2014
Feb 22, 2014 at 11:58 AM UTC
There are no Apaches
With flaming arrows and piebald ponies
There are no writhing jungles round here
There are no lost temples
Hiding untold treasures
There are no damsels to be rescued
By a knight on a white charger
There are no pirates on the high seas
No skull and crossbones flying
Above a deck bristling and glistening
With cutlasses and flintlocks ready
And hook hands and black eye-patches
In the sunlight of the Spanish Maine
There are no interplanetary wars
With hand-held laser guns
And weird creatures from strange worlds
They just do not exist
I learned this when
I was very very young
And I really wanted to be a pirate
By Phil Roberts
Mar 3, 2016
Mar 3, 2016 at 2:07 PM UTC
You handed me your heart and I held it
felt it, squeezed it through my fingers
staring lingers, that's the ringer
it kept time once, pendulum swinging
in metric, you were electric
ten ticks for every tock
it was a shock to see you waste away
tumbling like a lock, in decay
gave it up on Christmas Day
filled my stockings with trinkets
then meshed with the machines
that beeped and kept your time
ten ticks for every tock
I sat beside your bed,
ate vanilla bean ice cream and
stared at the sea foam green ceiling
and counted the time between beeps
ten, ten, then eleven, slowing down
it wasn't in my head, the nurses
said it was routine, a regression to the mean
but it was your heart that was routine
keeping time safe
but then your eyes were empty
and I could see interplanetary space
in between the accordion regulating
your breathing's pace
then the beeping ceased
and where once I was with a man in a bed
in a room with machines and statues of saints
peering down with stoic grace,
I was then alone.
Apr 5, 2010
Apr 5, 2010 at 8:26 PM UTC
I smell even if it is a nutshell,
I touch even if it is a rabbit hutch,
I taste even it if is waste,
I feel even if its not real,
because I love and since I do...
I cry and die;
and every tear that runs through my face,
starts it's journey in interplanetary space,
but the others to follow they flow,
just like a waterfall on my cheek
and your love is the highest peak.
Oct 9, 2011
Oct 9, 2011 at 3:41 PM UTC
There are no Apaches
With flaming arrows and piebald ponies
There are no writhing jungles round here
There are no lost temples
Hiding untold treasures
There are no damsels to be rescued
By a knight on a white charger
There are no pirates on the high seas
No skull and crossbones flying
Above a deck bristling and glistening
With cutlasses and flintlocks ready
And hook hands and black eye-patches
In the sunlight of the Spanish Maine
There are no interplanetary wars
With hand-held laser guns
And weird creatures from strange worlds
They just do not exist
I learned this when
I was very very young
And I really wanted to be a pirate
By Phil Roberts
Sep 8, 2015
Sep 8, 2015 at 5:51 AM UTC
There are no Apaches
With flaming arrows and piebald ponies
There are no writhing jungles round here
There are no lost temples
Hiding untold treasures
There are no damsels to be rescued
By a knight on a white charger
There are no pirates on the high seas
No skull and crossbones flying
Above a deck bristling and glistening
With cutlasses and flintlocks ready
And hook hands and black eye-patches
In the sunlight of the Spanish Maine
There are no interplanetary wars
With hand-held laser guns
And weird creatures from strange worlds
They just do not exist
I learned this when
I was very very young
And I really wanted to be a pirate
By Phil Roberts
Nov 14, 2017
Nov 14, 2017 at 10:49 AM UTC
Fourteen billion ears
And not a pair to listen
Fourteen billion eyes
Ignore the running captions
Seven billion tongues
Wag 24/7 on the web
Still, ******* burn and burst
Never a lack of words to say
Mar 15, 2015
Mar 15, 2015 at 10:23 PM UTC
There are no Apaches
With flaming arrows and piebald ponies
There are no writhing jungles round here
There are no lost temples
Hiding untold treasures
There are no damsels to be rescued
By a knight on a white charger
There are no pirates on the high seas
No skull and crossbones flying
Above a deck bristling and glistening
With cutlasses and flintlocks ready
And hook hands and black eye-patches
In the sunlight of the Spanish Maine
There are no interplanetary wars
With hand-held laser guns
And weird creatures from strange worlds
They just do not exist
I learned this when
I was very very young
And I really wanted to be a pirate
By Phil Roberts
Feb 12, 2017
Feb 12, 2017 at 12:27 PM UTC