"meteorites" poems
A lone voice calls out
Never reaching the stars
Left floating in frigid space
On a blind, infinite journey
Rejection
Nearby are others
Insults are constant gifts
Thrown like red meteorites
And suffocating nebulas
Rejection
Even the cruel pain
Ripping mercilessly
A black hole ******* souls in
Ruthless strength conquers everything
Rejection
Jun 8, 2015
Jun 8, 2015 at 4:36 AM UTC
Planes streak across the wide October sky–
The sun is setting–
Contrails stream behind them,
glowing scars of the evening.
The highest ones, they exhale the day’s gold,
pure and sharp
like fields of August wheat,
dusty and late-summer charred.
Redder and lower ones hug the skyline,
No cloud to catch them,
Fall like meteorites,
the slow burn of a dwarf star
Memories never print so vividly,
slow burn sees fast death,
Reds, golds and what's between,
A brain is all catch-and-release
So afterwards what should be left of this?
Not but an umbra,
Impressionist beauty,
A mere relief of its source?
Beauty’s slow fade is not the tragedy,
–rather the reverse–
That we fade to beauty,
To never hold it in full.
Oct 21, 2018
Oct 21, 2018 at 5:09 PM UTC
“And in that moment she was star struck. She looked with ocean eyes to a man with a crystal heart. She knew she could never have this man, for the stars did not align. Shooting stars tingle in the hearts of these lovers, yet meteorites crash inside of their brains.”
-Candice
© 2018
Jul 12, 2018
Jul 12, 2018 at 8:20 PM UTC
In your eyes shines universe in the shape of your face.
The stars whisper verses of unconditional love.
Light of the moon emanates with your heart.
Sun burns oath of immortality on my skin.
Planets dance to the music of our souls.
Even the black hole discovered the essence of love.
Stardust wraps our bodies and souls.
Meteorites juggle in space of desire to hit ecstasy of fated land.
Interstellar space is filled with love of devotion.
Electromagnetism guards intimacy of our bodies.
Gravity is jealous about force of our feelings.
Strong impact rising between us.
Space-time continuum is richer in our kisses.
All forms of matter and energy count light years of love head over heels.
Our love was born in the Big Bang's peculiarity,
existes since the dawn of time.
Atoms formed union of our beings.
Star agglomerated in galaxies of fascination and fulfillment.
Supernova of our passion is new kind of cosmic explosion.
The shock wave propagates even in the toes and feet.
We transformed in pure energy.
Expansion of our love accelerates.
Existence has become a paradise on earth, cosmic catharsis.
Love is bliss of *********** with you.
Drink a love potion to the bottom of romanticism.
You will raise where I am.
In you I found the multiverse.
Nov 23, 2014
Nov 23, 2014 at 8:38 AM UTC
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
where
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
Oct 28, 2018
Oct 28, 2018 at 5:08 PM UTC
The death of a meteorite
Is the birth of a star
For a moment that it’s falling
Down the atmosphere, speed it’s gaining
For a moment to be shining
For a moment to be sparkling
In exchange for that moment
Is the meteorites’ ending
But the meteorite didn’t care
Even when it hit the ground
Crushed, broken and can no longer be repaired
For even just but a single moment
It was not a meteorite
But a star
A falling star
Yes indeed, the death of a meteorite
Is the birth of a star
Jul 23, 2015
Jul 23, 2015 at 8:47 AM UTC
Because his eyes shone like starlight and his lips felt like the moon.
His hips crashed like comets; like meteorites falling from the sky. Constellations disguised as freckles across his shoulder blades and the cosmos coated his fingertips.
Our breaths were shallow as we fought to regain air while our tangled legs formed the Milky Way.
His words carried me to Mercury, Neptune, and every **** planet in between while his smile pulled me towards galaxies light years away, whisking us off into the blissful unknown.
Nov 29, 2014
Nov 29, 2014 at 10:31 PM UTC
You
wrapped
a constellation
around my finger;
in harmony,
told me
that
you loved me.
Now,
we wear
our wedding rings
molded out of
comets,
meteorites,
and asteroids
-- fragile enough
to accommodate
our fingers
but,
strong enough
to
ablated, choose
to
fall
down
to
Earth.
Apr 25, 2013
Apr 25, 2013 at 12:56 PM UTC
Like a patterned rug
Beaten to be rid of dust and
Flopped over a balcony railing, a leopard
Hangs her hefty hands beneath a bough.
Head lolling lazily, she awakens.
Fingers like silent meteorites dig
Craters in the loose, dry earth.
From the grasses emerge many warm black eyes, unseen
And vicious: floral pockmarks on
Her carpeted exterior: cruel camouflage.
Deftly lugging her **** back
Into the branches to feed on its flesh:
Patterned rug stained.
Ears ***** and whiskers twitch
As boughs creak and twigtips reach
For the ground: the impala’s weight
Has weakened her arboreal home.
She panics not.
She slinks softly back into
The grasses: better to sidle away unscathed
From immediate danger.
Pride and body intact, she will **** again
Elsewhere.
Apr 15, 2014
Apr 15, 2014 at 4:50 PM UTC
Some say there is nothing more beautiful than the sunrise, and how the sun's lips lightly spin over the face of the earth and bathe it in soft colors, a gentle reminder that the darkness is over.
Some say there is nothing more beautiful than the ocean, because no matter how far they're swept away, the waves always find their way back home to shore, healing it over and over again.
Some say there is nothing more beautiful than galaxies, and how no star tries to outshine the other, every form simply coexisting in a dance of unnamed colors; in space even death is a sight to behold, a firework display of moondust and leftover breath from the mouth of God.
Yet I have to disagree, for I have never before seen anything as beautiful as love in its purest form--- conquering death, every sliver of fear, every earthshaking storm.
For loving you is sunrise, we have seen each other's midnight yet still we choose to forgive, knowing that when light breaks it covers even the places we thought were beyond love's relentless reach, and
Loving you is oceans of pushing and pulling, hurting and healing, but we have promised to be there through high tides and low tides, because I know your moon will always draw you home to me, and lastly,
Loving you is galaxies. I have never before felt anything so alive, so vast that even after claiming we know all the coordinates and all the corners of our maps, we still are only brushing the surface of our solar systems, and there are still so many colors, so many flames, so many meteorites we still haven't named, but that's okay because loving you
is only the beginning. Thank you for choosing my hand for yours to hold on this crazy, everlasting journey and maybe one day we'll find the right words to compare what loving you is like, even if we both know there aren't any. Oh, there aren't any.
Jun 22, 2015
Jun 22, 2015 at 11:40 AM UTC
You evolve and
meteorites crush
to dust on her hip,
sweep, before
she can make chalk
and spell In Memoriam
Every move you rip
a little further
dispose of her child’s body
break out of her shell
as something alien
(for her survival)
Mar 5, 2015
Mar 5, 2015 at 12:52 PM UTC
And when the people with the giant skies came to visit
and when they saw my sky was only the size of a pebble,
they ripped it from my hands and swore it was big enough
to drown a few hundreds.
And when I tried to reach for other skies, they warned me
I should count my steps, turn back, try to find other ways
to protect myself from fallen meteorites that want to get
back to space.
I remind myself everyday I have a billion pebbles under my
skin and they’re waiting to be stolen from people with giant skies.
Little bombs that count down for the right moment to explode.
May 31, 2014
May 31, 2014 at 8:56 PM UTC
brachiosaurs were tall,
so they got hit by meteorites first.
but ichthyosaurs died slowly in water that
isn't warm anymore, because a blanket
of grey hair (there will be mammals soon)
knocked out the sun in a prize-
fighting match. i took a shard
of space rock in my belly that
tunneled into my backbone (the ancient
arthropods died too) but you got frozen, by
that ashen sky, slowly, while
your ocean got colder.
the sand shivered too.
Mar 10, 2011
Mar 10, 2011 at 11:47 AM UTC
Spark the stars into being
You settle like the dust
Of meteorites, falling stars
Over the memory of dark skies
And endless expanses of black
You are a night sky
A million stars that light up
The darkest parts of the universe
You are supernova bursts of light
Stars bursting into being
And flickering out
A million miles away
And all I can do
Is write about the stars
And never even dream
I could be even one.
Aug 31, 2012
Aug 31, 2012 at 7:20 PM UTC
Chapter I
I once was young minded,
vulnerable with wide tooth grins
and fluttering words,
binding soft skin with liquid
metals - like gallium,
clustering in my ribbed fingertips and
letting love level in my lips.
I turned old the day I watched
rough bodies portraying the new style
of
***
on a vhs tape, and he
gave me a shaking milkshake to
turn off my developing
voicebox.
I always wore this barbie nightgown
that had tears from the nights before,
but that's ancient dust that folks
flip past in encyclopedias.
as he knelt down to tie my veins
together in little bows,
I untied after each loop was set in
my bones.
his acidic fingers braced my eight
year old metal frame,
so I broke the nuts and bolts since
I wanted to see if he was
a part of the human race,
I wanted to see if he could bleed
iron-richness that kept myself breathing.
Chapter II
he was beautiful.
his philosophy branched in
segments and he tasted of
earthy tones, but sometimes
he couldn't smile easy and
I felt his love only in acts of passion.
The football game stuttered in
pure vertigo,
as if my body was still
positioned in missionary.
he held me in concern, his arms
laced as protection from myself.
as a survivor, his words felt like
whiplash or lagging from too much
flying in the high altitude.
I needed to forget, float, forgive
and begin the process over again.
I would never see the shades of love
from anyone other than from him,
his words used to brand me.
Chapter III
I drank too much.
I wished on meteorites,
lead-filled, hoping they wouldn't
fall on the tent.
my luck was never strong enough.
I felt as if a wildfire was singeing
my dysfunctional limbs.
I wanted him off. now.
and my tongue was made of
parchment paper. crisped.
I woke up ten after nine.
my body repulsed me,
throwing up the last of poisonous
alcohol I left stranded the
night before.
I devoted that I will never sleep in
a tent again.
Chapter IV
I am finally free.
I still have energy in these
old bones,
and I want to put them
to good use.
so I'll walk for centuries to
find truth and trust.
I use my voice to tell myself
I am more profound than the
surface film those insignificants swept
on my skin.
I found my voice again.
Mar 31, 2011
Mar 31, 2011 at 4:51 PM UTC
meteorites in fire display, create an ingenious word craft
***** sky frenziedly reads the amorous request, shudders,
swift, transparent cloud, embraces the lonesome gloomy moon,
she is falling in to pieces, desire drives a knife of pain through her heart.
Mar 22, 2015
Mar 22, 2015 at 8:05 PM UTC
I have come to conclusion
over sunpierced crust
brittle as tobacco leaf
astride mottled nag
scraggling on loose gravel
sandsoaked
saltsteeped
leadheavy in lid
past dactyled tracks
parallel cobbled macadam
wavering shale
lockjawed lava rock
fractured cobalt
lone juniper
forgotten scrub
open boil of tar and pitch
halfburied bones of leviathan
still shifting in the clouded boom
of stone
through grapeshot hail
adobed pueblos
thatchskinned women
and straw men
all witches
flaying the gila
pestling scale with cornmeal
and fermented mescal
desert sangria
hallucinating sideways in the murk
where coyotes yip
and each star a conflagration
mirrored in the captive eyes
of floundered meteorites
at the terminus
where sun and moon merge
I know the question
and response
from where do you come
to where do you go
Dec 15, 2011
Dec 15, 2011 at 5:04 PM UTC
Today, i decided to rhyme to honor thy death
I shall reveal what I have hidden underneath
I hid a love so great, brighter than the sun
Wider than the untameable bluest ocean
But you slipped between my fingertips
Like how a silky, luxury cloth on my skin slids
Gently, smoothly, flawlessly
As flawless as how the sun drowns in red cotton
As graceful as the mesmerizing rise of the moon
I hid a love, existing ceaselessly, my love
So today, I decided to rhyme to honor thy death
To reveal what I tried to hide underneath
I still hold a love, a love so great
feel its warmth escape like angel's breath
And hear me rhyme to honor such beautiful death
And reveal the truth I covered underneath
Beautiful than the crashing of meteorites in the sea
More majestic than the regal clothes a princess can plea
An immeasureable worth, worthier than diamonds
But you tossed it away like cold, dull weightless stones
Yet, I rhyme and honor your death
And reveal what I have hidden underneath
To honor such love's last breath
A love I hid in so much warmth and faith.
Feb 5, 2015
Feb 5, 2015 at 6:52 PM UTC
I want you to rip the messy sutures from my stitched-up heart and
I want to love you with my chest wide open.
I want the icy air to whisper across my bared arteries and scoop the black from my lungs
I want you to kiss me so hard blood runs down my teeth.
I want to taste the salty crimson on my tongue and know
I am still breathing, that
I still have a pulse.
I want your eyes to burn holes in my skin & the cauterized nerve endings to emit a single sharp scream
I need your sweaty palms to take away the sting.
I want you to wake me from this gray unending dream.
I know meteorites always hit the sun or crash to earth, but
I want our comet to blaze through the night sky for a few bright seconds before the freefall.
I will ignore the craters you'll carve from my bones.
I know
I will end up lying in a hospital bed with skin grafts and bleeding bandages, but
I want the rose-tinged words that will leak from my eyes like saline-tipped blades.
I want to slowdance with cyanide.
I want to tiptoe on a razor-littered sidewalk.
I want to swim with sharks;
I want to dip my hand in fire;
I want a gradual descent from a cliff with a tattered parachute;
I want to toss my heart into your freckled arms.
I want your fingers around my neck before
I realize it.
I want you to destroy me.
I want your smile to eat me alive.
Jan 26, 2014
Jan 26, 2014 at 7:04 PM UTC
There is a certain rage I only have for you
it makes me want to burn down buildings
and rescue you from what I alone have caused
nothing can be undone, when the walls
of your castle has been burned down.
I would drown your body in the crystal lake
where I first saw you bathing
as little fawn do with their mother doe
my most rewarding treasure
all mine for the taking
you would still shine brighter
than any jewel deep within the crevices of
unknown planets.
Leading us both to a place
where I feel no guilt
for shredding every piece
of your wardrobe off
with my fangs repeatedly.
Your helpless only I can save you
from yourself
only I can satisfy
your insatiable lust the moon
has showered on your climatic dreams
craving my touch more
leaving you ******** in ecstasy
dripping in sweat, fiending for control
I can provide you with
pining for release
your frenzy for me becomes a danger.
My heart is your dungeon decorated
with violet curtains with fluffy trimming
and a silk golden rope to pull
when you acquire more blood
to fill your whine glass
listening to your screams
please my ear so.
my vernacular will tingle your ears
as I speak of shooting stars
and meteorites.
The darkness within me shall
haunt you if you ever were to escape
this dream paradise
we created with lost thought alone
tormenting your mind
ravishing your body
ten million *** slaves in one
and the light will never dim any lower
than the pure disgust and hatred
of the cellar you are locked in.
A dollhouse of nightmares
made of obsidian bricks
your anxiety and wit
fulfill me to the core
of leaving you empty
so very pale and deliriously in love
the scars from my whip
our fate tied.
Sep 22, 2013
Sep 22, 2013 at 8:27 PM UTC
Tears cascade upon the Earth like meteorites
as we lie in the flower fields of India far away
I watch the sun rays play a story across your face
we whisper of past transgressions and travesties done to us
and how time moves slower here when we forget it all
we have waited so long to find this dream we pondered if it were real
we had at last found our way outside the worlds oblivious ways
gazing into each other we see our reflection lying in silence
finally falling to sweet repose as the moonlight draws us within her sweet blanket
no other warmth needed but one another
Feb 27, 2013
Feb 27, 2013 at 8:14 PM UTC
It was a warm night in Madrid,
when I met her.
She rounded the corner like a siren would the sea,
dripping and demanding
her legs long, level and silk
with hips like two half moons
sauntering in a way
only gypsies know.
Her fingers danced delicate ballets
and from the nail beds
poured boiled sugar, coiling the length of my spine.
Burnt cream in colour
like her body, her demeanor,
dark, wild hair framing darker, wilder eyes
hooded Venus orbs.
Her *** candied meteorites on my lip.
Jul 30, 2013
Jul 30, 2013 at 4:25 PM UTC
I want to see you sleeping after
tick-tocking like a wind-up clock all day,
falling like a taut of rope to the bottom of
a canyon to thud down into a pensive pile,
spreading your energy out as a silent spirit
across the dry river bed, the wind of you
whipping up sediments in the vast valleys beneath.
I want to bear witness to you catching my eye
from across the room cautiously,
covering the communion in cadmium lemonade tape,
tasty and afraid of being caught at the crime scene.
I'll throw you a line and you can come up gasping,
glorious and shining in the adolescent sun,
pulling in air where water should come.
I want to watch you write that paper you're working on.
I want to spot you screaming into oblivion,
washing over wonder with waxy fingers,
grabbing at the truth like five year olds ****** fireflies
out of a fleshy, dusk-dipped night
with mothers calling out "Come inside!" in loving, eager fright.
I want your eyes to glimmer something back at me,
meeting me in the cosmos to make the moon,
Mercury slinging stardust over his shoulder,
flirting with Venus and fighting her smolder,
meteorites crashing into each other,
creating solar systems in their wake.
I want to contemplate you on a flat plane,
feeling a frenzy of agitated hands
and fluctuating heart rate,
fault lines moving crazy,
crashing through geologic time
to make earthquakes feel human.
I want to stare at you saying things
that would color me crimson in broad daylight
as we breathe out heavy to the ancient incantations
of an early umber evening.
I want to see you
without a pocket mirror attached to my wrist,
cutting into my skin,
blood purple like lavender iced tea in the summer
and veins an undulating blue.
Mar 10, 2015
Mar 10, 2015 at 11:54 PM UTC
5 0 0 pieces or more
spill over six accounts
5 0 0 holes for fingers
opened over my skin
so when will i learn
to use my feet to seek?
so when will i learn
the blood i squeeze
will in time run dry?
the gills that i cut
will swallow the knife?
no time better than now
no time like the present
to remember to breathe
remember to walk toward
not away
a comet on legs leaving
trails of meteorites
no time better than now
the ropes of the past lace
through the toes to the wrists
how long has it taken?
how lucky am i that i
filled the flesh canvas
with angry scars and
still have the knife?
5 0 0 pieces or more
spill over six accounts
5 0 0 holes for fingers
opened over my skin
the detective is done
with the cold case blues
the detective is done
penning I 2 U s
there are enough mountains today
tomorrow and on for the detective
to be insane as long as they want
the detective is done
with the cold case blues
so case closed
Nov 15, 2017
Nov 15, 2017 at 12:37 PM UTC
I never knew how to
write poetry correctly.
It's not like it comes with an
instruction manual
that reads in italicized letters
"dig so deep into your head that if a brain aneurism were to spontaneously combust, you'd be the first to know about it"
No one told me that my emotions
would corkscrew like falling
meteorites every time I picked
up a pen.
No one told me that the thoughts
would sometimes dry up
and leave me searching like
a dog who buried a bone and
then developed a rare type
of amnesia.
No one told me that sometimes
it would be hard to get the words
onto the page without tears
falling like a liquid avalanche.
There was no instruction manual
or italicized letters. There was only me,
and a lot of lessons to learn.
Dec 28, 2015
Dec 28, 2015 at 12:16 PM UTC