"martian" poems
He pulled and parked the supply red wagon,
then climbed the mast to the captain's cabin.
Captain Red is ready for adventure.
A quest to collect the world's best treasure.
His pirate crew is renowned far and wide.
They're rough and tough and they don't ever cry.
But none of them boys has the captain's stuff.
So don't mess with him, man, cause he don't bluff.
This motley crew has achieved many feats,
has never suffered a single defeat,
and has seen the most incredible things:
whales, whirlpools, storms, mermaids, krakens and kings.
"Set sail," squaws the boss as he munches lunch
and the Ocean Destroyer leaves port Wunche.
These rolling green hills are now ocean waves.
That blue sky, however, remains the same.
...
"Hey Benjamin!" beams the first mate Susanne.
Impeding the journey that just began.
"We already played this game. It's my turn!"
The first mate trumps the captain, Ben will learn.
...
Her spacesuit crew is renowned far and wide.
They're smart and nice and they don't ever lie.
But none of these girls has commander's stuff.
So don't mess with her, girl, cause she don't bluff.
This brainy crew has achieved many feats,
has never suffered a single defeat,
and has seen the most incredible things:
aliens, black holes, stars, and martian springs.
"Lift off!" beams the boss as she munches lunch
and the Star Chasing Rocket leaves base Wunche.
These rural backyards are now rocky space.
That blue sky, however, remains the same.
...
"Hey Susanne!" beams the pilot Benjamin.
Impeding the flight before it begins.
"We already played this game. It's my turn!"
The pilot trumps commander, Sue will learn.
...
Boys and girls grow up and out the front door.
Those children’s games evolve to adult chores;
those kiddy lawns to grandparent’s domain.
That blue sky, however, remains the same.
Jul 23, 2018
Jul 23, 2018 at 5:58 PM UTC
[Verse 1]
Monster sized swag; not modest bout my splendor
Marvel at the flag and I'm the ultimate avenger
Buck Rodgers, D-Bird yep I'm the number one contender,
So I gotta uphold this rep of bein uncontrollable
so I'll take the lead, I hold the world beneath my feet
I'm a fiend, elite
Haze so cloudy cause I be blowin Swisher Sweets
Drug addiction is my disease
It's my expertise
See here's the masterpiece:
Raps lobotomize
I'm traumatized since 1993
[Verse 2]
Victimized by the lies
of this trifilin enterprise
You can front but you can't hide
There's no fault behind your eyes
So I hope this insult will suffice
It should come as no surprise
A grin will spread across my face
From side to side
My ***** mouth will mesmerize
hypnotized, memorize
the words that escape my lips
I'm a degenerate unabridged uncut
You're a ************* ****
Go hang yourself from a bridge
Here's a rope, I hope you choke
******* ******* smoochie smoochie
Only chains you got is Gucci
Y’all basic brothers rep that set
But fake like that 2chi
[Verse 3]
man I get so high,
Now watch me get higher
Watch me take flight
As my wings soar skyward
You know I'ma fighter
So watch me take my place
As I eat this rap game up
and then spit it in your face
Now pass me a lighter
see me rollin while I bake
I mean I'm not a pastry maker,
but I still bake for the sake
My rhymes are so ill
They're gonna make you sick
I be tweetin on my twitter
While Betty Crocker ***** my **** uh
[Verse 4]
Reid between the lines son and please proceed with caution
Alien splittin kilos, I be one tweaked ****** martian
I'm five steps ahead and these haters ****** forfeit
You four feet tall and I'm so high I'm in ****** orbit
Make these snitches sleep with fishes
How ****** vicious spittin mischief
****** trippin out these hypocrites
Dishin out these disses which
Bein inconsiderate
in this fast paced game of chase
But if I wanted to catch your drama
I'd just go check my facebook page *****
Nov 11, 2013
Nov 11, 2013 at 3:30 AM UTC
Once at the guillotine
Now an out-of-focus angel
"Crime is shame, not the scaffold!"
She's got a '45 strapped
To each of her thighs
Speaks French with a Martian accent
Wishes she was a siren
When bathed in happy thoughts
Wishes she was the ladybird
When her wings
Confuse amuse transfuse
Into dreams of blood
Lukewarm prisoner
Detained for seven years
Now lies beside her
Asking for a helping hand
She loosens her corset
But tightens her grip
Jan 3, 2022
Jan 3, 2022 at 9:10 AM UTC
11:20pm
You kidnapped me and we flew back to your home planet.
I was left speechless as this heavenly body took over my soul.
He tied a martian string around my heart and promised me to stay.
11:30pm
You took me on an adventure across the galaxy that distorted my mind.
I let him guide my body into a meadow of star dust, without any fear of hesitation.
He tightened the martian string around my heart and promised that I will be his forever.
11:40pm
You gently caressed my untamed spirit and helped this earthling experience a new look on life.
I only craved for my eccentric martian, so I feared the day I would have to go back to that dreary planet.
He glared down into my dark brown eyes and promised that I'll be his officially, to have and to hold.
11:50pm
You slowly began to distant yourself from yourself my soul as the days progressed on this martian planet.
I noticed that the string we held tightly around our hearts began to steadily loosen as the nights grew colder.
He turned his back on the earthling he once loved and promised to let me go so he can travel the stars alone.
12:00am
You promise that we would explore the extrasolar worlds together as we floated through the dark abyss.
I believed in his promises, hoping the martian string that bounded our hearts together would remain intact.
He delivered me back to my humdrum planet while untying the same string that we once held so dear.
Jan 4, 2012
Jan 4, 2012 at 4:22 AM UTC
the simple true |
vs.
absurd ********
water on mars points to the future of
the dead earth;
Fascists vs. aliens | complete fossils of advanced
hominids found miles
deep below [ ]
the Martian surface [but w/ no signs
of engineering or built structures]
questions w/ no answers |
what kind of society did Martians have:
dictatorship, democracy or empire & what kind of poetry
did they write:
searching for the great epic poet
of Mars beginning by digging straight down past the fossil record
coming upon an entirely other set of structures & fossils dated
thousands of years before those previously found
& further down, more advanced forms of society
at the deepest strata advanced electronics & technology appears
w/ less & less hominid forms, n still w/no evidence of written
poetry
|
Martian poetry may have been oral; so in
setting up sound meters to detect
residual radio-sound waves, the history of sound can be
recorded & focused on any one particular voice or several:
from this we detect recited verse
no matter how far back it was uttered; in truth, the older the better as it's
easier to distinguish & isolate the particular voice
from ambient rhythms
Jul 25, 2018
Jul 25, 2018 at 8:24 PM UTC
strait crazy
saintly mania raving.
new age jainist phasers
sang they praises
like
'hey mr bojangles,
go mangle up the angle,
shake shake shake the frame
& they'll thank you later.'
...sorry not today.
I'm feeling under the
earthquake weather.
wallowing wonder
following the devil
thru the desert
on great endeavors
to make it rain feathers
that sound like thunder.
famous as ever
nameless as heaven
to say the least
I'm slaying beasts that
came from me
in the first place.
this is lovehate.
lovehate lovehate.
& it's useless.
just lemme set the mood.
it's stupid
brutish beauty
mooing truly bluesy
marks & bruises
infused with martian
harmony incarnate,
caramelized carnage
set to soothing violent music.
broke record store cliché
faded to frustration feeding
a creaturely need for creation
& hellish lust for selfdestruction.
-nothing special-
just an absolute mess who
dilute the stress through allusion
allegory alliteration
hallucination delusion
***** it's a celebration.
tell the rest those losers
that got left I'm doing my best
even though I'm pretty upset
with how it's all panning out.
oh well I guess.
Apr 23, 2015
Apr 23, 2015 at 7:55 AM UTC
I dream of rigged lacrosse matches
won in 4th quarter
overtime
of chess games won with en passant
(what exactly is that?)
of horses falling at the first hurdle.
I dream of Martian landscapes
through sand-dunes of heartache
because as a child, at McDonalds
I was never allowed a milk shake,
while in my waking hours I have
absolved a multitude of sins for
lapsed nuns, ringmasters and troubadours.
I have filmed riots,
marathons and abortions.
I have seen things
pickled in jars
holding open heavy doors.
I have tried,
like an idiot
to commit all this to
memory.
Dec 31, 2012
Dec 31, 2012 at 2:15 PM UTC
Loony Tunes
Bugs Bunny is my favorite rabbit,
watching him became my habit.
He was smart, funny and two steps ahead,
his popularity was very widespread.
His best friend was Daffy Duck,
he never did have the same luck.
Rabbit season, duck season,
rabbit season, duck season,
watching them, I needed no reason.
Speedy Gonzales was so very quick,
this fast mouse was also a *****
Owned his own pizza place,
won a gold metal, at the local rat race.
Yosemite Sam was a short tempered man,
killing Bugs and Daffy was always his plan.
He's a liar, a cheat and a sore loser,
maybe he should have been a drug user.
Tasmanian Devil was a tornado of destruction,
he never needed any kind of introduction.
Foghorn Leghorn never saw a negative situation,
I say, I say boy was his favorite quotation.
Pepe Le Pew was a French skunk,
women loved his smelly *****
Marvin The Martian was from Mars,
his laser gun would leave you with scars.
Tweety was an antagonizing canary,
lived with Granny, and flew like a crafty fairy.
Sylvester was Granny's pet cat,
him and Tweety always went *** for tat.
Road Runner was so very fast,
said beep beep as Wile E Coyote he passed.
Never fell for those Acme supplies,
getting blown up was his ultimate demise.
Porky Pig was just happy to be included,
the, the that's all folks, is how this will be concluded.
Oct 4, 2013
Oct 4, 2013 at 2:18 AM UTC
What on Earth
took you? Do we dare land?
A lark of descension. An aborted beginning.
Moon trills.
Captain is dead
at the controls.
Mother gives birth in the airlock.
Trouble in the passageways.
A struggle to name it.
A drink before eclipse.
All that's wrong with the world
sounds like harmonium in the (wishing) well.
First flight over Hölderlin's Archipelago,
creating new and stranger versions
in the sandclouds.
So this is
Tharsis Rise?
Life without a trace.
Non-terrestrial Martian field.
Halcyon flowering seas. A rock with no trees,
no urban hopes.
Yet, the whole universe inside
wants to be touched.
I love you in zero gravity,
pushing tender buttons.
*** as solution.
Moon trills.
A kiss of atmosphere.
This alien womb.
Those android embargoes.
Our children are born echoes of astronauts.
Lunar schedules
their first words.
There's a lightspeed sensibility
to this type of marriage and parenting:
no leaving the hub,
no exit procedure.
The Sol they sing
is a harm hymn,
moon trills,
subject to the ladder and the weight of breath
this outside Earth.
But I love you in the veil of a twilight moon.
We're monuments
burned into moments.
Moments without a beyond.
Jul 2, 2022
Jul 2, 2022 at 6:36 PM UTC
I'm having a drink this here
at Space Bar in Pluto
and Martian Pete comes in
and sits beside me
and we talk, and we drink
Full of loyalty
and pride, as a human
(and patriotism included)
I tell the Martian:
*"In 1969
We humans put a man on the moon"*
"Pish! " says the Martian
*"We sent a team
to the Sun
Earth Year 1959"*
"Oh, " I say to the Martian
*"The Sun would have burned
your team of Martians! "*
"Pish! " retorts the Martian
*"You stupid Earthlings!
We sent them to the Sun at night"*
Mar 8, 2012
Mar 8, 2012 at 1:46 AM UTC
He seeks truth in places of no good.
He flies high in places where others stood
Still he cries tears of perpetual sense.
A chameleon
his outer vesture cloaks his identity.
Unyielding
He plants his foot in the dirt.
Tangled vines tie his toes
contrasting his poetic prose.
Left dangling in the temptress spider lily's web
the noose tightens
as the old boy sings.
A fist with two thumbs
he raises like a martian.
Strangers illegibly write him
off.
A Jekyllish laugh
empties the mucus from his lungs.
Eons of inhaling senseless knowledge
he finds a second breathe to speak.
Words slice the web of lies
spinning silk into impenetrable pride.
Raw and uncut
his diction polishes diamonds
before were only rust.
He wakens every morning
Anew defiant face.
Contradicting himself
a joke
he cackles everyday.
The children who say he's changed
are correct.
But the chameleon found his true colors
somewhere between the lines
of white and black.
Jan 24, 2014
Jan 24, 2014 at 11:43 AM UTC
Today I want to write about thinking about what it is I want to write about
Letting these ideas converge in my mind and fight it out
May the best one win
Today I want to type the first thing that pops up in my head
Today I want to square dance with a Martian… and rename the colour purple ‘red’
Today I want to break so far away from the ordinary man’s norm
Today I want to do something absolutely, totally random
Today I want to take a break from being amazingly **** to be superbly awesome
My mind is racing… full of excitement, like a ****** about to engage in a *********
Oh yes I said that!
Or typed it… whichever
Whatever idea I go with will definitely be the most rich… ever
But it’s tough to be at par... with poetry’s greats
When it is we that set the bar
Today I go for broke
Today I thought… I wrote… and my words spoke.
Jan 4, 2013
Jan 4, 2013 at 1:46 AM UTC
Autobiographical fact:
The CIA trained me in covert Martian Martial Arts.
I am better than you.
My fists are weapons of mass destruction.
Boom. Bite the towel, I'm going in dry
like US planes all over Iraq.
Sadam ain't got nothing on me.
(I mean...
He had no weapons to begin with
but I'll **** Cheney his *** and yours too.)
UN Security Council say whut?!
That's what I thought.
-Mic drop-
Sep 29, 2014
Sep 29, 2014 at 9:22 PM UTC
poisoned well of the antichrist littered with ground cover
picking out ****** flecks of gravel
blacktop kneeskin
patience pieces of scattered space time
to go back to the future of continuity
lack of genius ingenuity
and the suckling of the pig entourage
riding in a flat top hatchback
cadillac of the daily grind
upperclassman japan onii-chan
brother in arms from anotha motha
hug from afar colliding with crackpot theory
terrible fantasia cooling bricks in soggy sun
swallowed his pride with a glass of self-worth
and these ***** don't cook like they used to
I don't look like I used to
warped veil of camouflage chameleon leather
with a ****** level of automobile salesman
tried to get closer to god
ground him up, picked out the stems
twisted him into thin paper
touched flame to his finger tip and a son of Adam was born
gum shoe gaze
or the emptiness felt at the end of reasonable doubt
correctional text messaging system
sent from hoarse corpses
tenderly poignant in their ****** coffins
will think for food
cries from an outdated MENSA
over ***** and under-appreciated
siting on hunched shoulders to get a better look
to be a martian in a plain port
wharf warehouse whaling boat
red tide in a Shanghai **********
floodgates made of bitter premise
that last bit of purple yam
**** Okonkwo
Things Fall Apart fell apart due to faded highschool ambitions and bloodshot eyes
cruel like the shade of off-cerulean
champagne fizz tickles at the soft meat of his tarnished throat
and silver tongue
as the matchstick framework
so fragile in comparison
fizzles out on drenched sidewalk
while cigarette ash floats by
like gray gnats
May 30, 2013
May 30, 2013 at 4:03 PM UTC
Ares' Feast
Martian Symbols of Conquest
‘Sleep in Chambers and Vaults deep;
Flame of Torch disturbs their rest.
Swing your Scythe - thy Harvest reap!
Well do mighty Blades recall
Flesh they’ve rent from Bones of Men.
Must we hear Valkyries call
‘Fore the Swords will sleep again?
Fathers fall before the Blades,
Son-like Swains set in the West,
Valkyries shriek and shepherd Shades –
Victims of Sword’s Lust for Flesh.
Aeons pass and still they feast –
Ares and his iron-wing’d beasts.
Aug 18, 2014
Aug 18, 2014 at 1:09 PM UTC
The sunflower is drunk. Fork stuck
In the soil, like roots. It holds the
Skinny ******* in place. How tall
Would you be, if your spine did not
Droop over itself? Did your mother not
Tell you to hold your shoulders up straight?
Still you have scared me since infancy.
Your lanky demeanour, God’s scarecrow.
Upright in the field or against my Grandfather’s
Brick wall. Creeping up in the days.
You grow.
Oh, Cyclops! Your eye it scours
Me. Fixes me with a Martian stare,
Orwellian and deprived, though
Decorated with a halo. Your flower
A startling diagram of creation.
The big bang, black pupil, dark heat
And brown to flames, fans and galaxies.
My heartbeat is a speck somewhere,
I know it.
Sunflower, the awkward arbiter. The
Unknowable in your eye, always watching
But never watched. Your centre burnt like
Charcoal, inescapable void. Don’t take me.
Please, don’t swallow me.
Aug 9, 2013
Aug 9, 2013 at 7:34 PM UTC
They come in many different sizes
Different colors, different cuts
All purebred from Poodle planet
No mixing of Martian mutts
Innocently enough we let them into our homes
Now with too many it is to little to late
We've been taken captive without even knowing
By Poodles from Outer Space
Soon, very soon to take over it all
Ruling the world of common man
Getting us to do their bidding at every call
Has all along been their dastardly plan
Leading us to believe that we are the Masters
But what is really behind the bark
And what's up with all the tail wagging
Just waiting it out while playing their cards
And the crazed frenzy in all of the yapping
That they do while roaming in packs
Is just giving away their location
So the Mother Ship knows where they are at
As it continues to circle our planet
In the unassuming shape of a Milk-Bone
The Alien Poodles are in cahoots with Purina
Google it, you'll see I'm not wrong
Years ago they first landed in France
Where quickly they blended in
From there is where they ventured out
Into all the major Continents
Now in every corner of the world
In all of its crooks and crannies
Saying hello to those in the know wherever they go
By their Planet's greeting...the sniffing of *****
Yes, they are Poodles from Outer Space
So toss that dog a bone
If you ever wonder who is in charge
And who it is that's owned...
Mar 13, 2014
Mar 13, 2014 at 8:51 AM UTC
To be chanted whenever the O Machine 1 fails:
Rumor has it that the Enigma
Was to Churchill a foul stigma
And that the ancient, creaking Babbage
It was to him but so much cabbage
Colossus One and Colossus Two
Those gadgets too he began to rue
They say he let them rust and rot -
The pity is that he did not
(I checked with the Lizard People on this – Churchill’s secret Second World War computers, powered by a primordial Lemurian source of energy so dangerous that even speaking its name in the ancient language of the Atlanteans is said to be fatal, are secured in a locked vault on Oak Island and guarded around the clock (set to Martian time) by the Trilateral Masonic-Vatican Continuum of deadly albino flying fish.)
1 E.M. Forster, “The Machine Stops,” 1909, Much-anthologized
Jun 13, 2019
Jun 13, 2019 at 3:52 PM UTC
Some and not others whipsaw crazy headlights gleaming not in the right but swerves heavy to the left and cackles it's ok, it's alright. Grackly hands descend from ahigh to grasp a young cheek and laugh why. Too-bright lights and too-harsh smiles carry us into the future for days and miles. Brought up on too much salt and too much sugar they burn like moth gods and they die in droves. Speciel endization is all in the lighting, the moisture content and land levels. Look at the moon and say it isn't true; it's mocking us yet awaiting you.
She was born at zero and waited seven years to be a hero and the story is that instead of dying she pushed all the red buttons and got to flying. Mars was on the loom so she needed extra room for all the food and water. She arrived at age eight and a galactic hero, to be everyone's daughter but eventually just a genetic *** barrel.
Because the farther we go
The farther we are.
But the further we go
The further we are.
Apr 26, 2014
Apr 26, 2014 at 4:15 PM UTC
I savour suicide itself with a martian flame
And fall right into its valleys of Ett
Aug 13, 2015
Aug 13, 2015 at 2:29 PM UTC
A report assembled over 3 years by NAASA scientists has now confirmed that there is life in outer space
They cannot however determine whether it is Martian, Venusion or Pluterian.
Whatever this life form is we know that it is posing as a great artist with both brush and word although our cryptologists are still trying to make sense out of the rambling messages this life form keeps transmitting.
Our artistic impression of this being likens it to the right frontal lobe of a human brain covered by a beret
Should you receive email or any other form of correspondence from this being you are strongly advised to ignore them as trying to decipher such messages can cause permanent brain damage
Jul 17, 2014
Jul 17, 2014 at 4:42 AM UTC
Rust and red consumed
A planet pumping iron
Forging RNA
A quick collision
Blasting out extremophiles
Pleased to meet you, Earth
Jun 25, 2015
Jun 25, 2015 at 12:52 PM UTC
Sometimes I really do feel like an alien in my own skin,
Like I could twist and turn, transform and try,
All the years of my life and still not get it right.
I don't know who made it that way.
Couldn't tell you where the notion developed,
Or who proved to be truth before I did.
I don't know which artist created this outline,
Sketched it in ink, and entitled it a lifestyle -
One I once dared not color outside the lines of.
But I figure, if I cannot be a Mona Lisa of a painting,
I could be a more original, less world reknown piece
Because the regard of outside perspectives is less important
Than the quality of art produced in me.
Maybe I've been too focused on the colors already on the palette,
Instead of the mountains of shades I could imagine.
Maybe the skin I wear is black, like mourning, like darkness,
But these shadows make it possible to appreciate light.
Maybe the issue isn't me. Maybe I just need a new canvas,
One that resembles my possibilities and not my limitations.
One that allows room for breath, and exploration, and mistakes -
That isn't stifled with labels, or schemes, or systems.
And maybe I have to create that for myself.
Sometimes, I really do feel like an alien in my own skin,
But that doesn't make it any less mine,
Nor any less worthy of love.
And maybe I can love this martian without having all the answers,
Or even a planet or plane to belong to.
Maybe the person behind the pen, or pencil, or paintbrush, is me,
If I decide to be.
Mar 20, 2021
Mar 20, 2021 at 11:47 AM UTC
The lone hungry coyote
Sends up a wraith's refrain
Sun melts in a crucible
Of purgatory pain.
The badlands. No man's land.
The sun bleeds crimson, rust.
Rattlesnakes and scorpions
Scuttle in the dust.
While the sky is falling
Making russet snow
The hills and rock are singing
The agony they know.
Unforgiving desert
Makes the bobcat scream
The moon face is crying
It's tears moan and gleam.
In a dream you take me
O'r the Martian scape
Your hand locked round my mind
Preventing my escape
Turquoise/silver stars
Fall onto my path
Just like Armageddon
Or its aftermath.
Black opals flame the hills
The brutal badland's tors
To hush my ragged breathing
Now... forevermore.
Soul Survivor
C. Jarvis (c) 2014
March 16
Mar 17, 2014
Mar 17, 2014 at 12:24 AM UTC