Blink and a star is on its way to sleep,
I'm standing so close to Jupiter,
I can feel its winds sweep me off my feet,
I'm an astronaut without a name,
I'm an astronaut without a name.

Consider this,
I'm away on a cruise to Saturn's ring tonight.
Consider this,
The Sun's so far, it's so cold, I can't feel the light,
You penetrate my gravity armour,
You strike me with your black hole armada.

Neptune looks so lonely at night,
She longs for Venus but she's so far away,
Four hours at the speed of light,
But she's bound by the chains of gravity,
She's bound by the chain's of gravity.

Consider this,
I'm a million asteroids left alone in the emptiness,
Consider this,
I reach out for the blue but I burn in the atmosphere,
Your skies have set me on fire,
Burning in the flames of your desire.

The birth of a star painted in a supernova,
The glowing halo of a mothership,
Is all that was left over.
They reach out for the sun,
They reach out for the sun.

Consider this,
They don't have ******* eyes like Mother told us.
Consider this,
They look like him and her we spoke to on the bus.
But you flew your guns at them,
You rushed your bombs at them.


It was on the news that she brought down the aliens,
They looked like me and you but she went after them,
But nobody could be found on the ship that brought them here,
The red lights on Mars they felt was safer than this fear,
And yet she found one of them,
The one who saved them all,
The one who chose to stay,
And take the fall.
The unnamed astronaut.
The unnamed astronaut.

I am a thing of many heartbeats

many walls, many minds.

and some men mark out the ways

ten by ten

by twenty-five

that I can be laid out on a plate

losing count at organelles and

organelles in the tight dry skins of

the mothership organelles.

I’m not in these pages, dearest,

flattened, candied red and blue.

but still you reach, tweeze apart bones

for tiny minds, for glowing truth in lives

crushed flat on a slide of glass

trickle acid on my cuts just to burn me more

and dearest

I thought you said you loved me before.

if you are schizophrenic a small voice will tell you what number to press
if you are co-dependent someone will press 2 for you
if you are paranoid we know where you are and know what you want and we will trace your call
if you are depressive it does not matter no one will answer you
if you have multiple personalizes press 3456
if you are dyslexic press 696969696969
if you have a nervous disorder fidget with # key until the beep, after the beep, please wait for the beep  
if you are obsessive compulsive press 1 repeatedly
if you are delusional press 7 and the mothership will answer you

1.

seeds of crimson, slightly sweet
alien pods of ruby meat
like exoskeletal teeth.

scores of crimson, holding in
like breath, its babes of sin.

little beetles; ****** tears.
one swarming conglomerate.

as if in fear, they huddle close
to await their fate in quiet fits.


2.

the
unfurling!scarlet!starfish!mothership!
sprawls out
fleshyfingers, fatwithfruit.

seedling children populate her innards
like a red-skinned race of juicy mutes.

Why won’t you accept who I am
It’s like my whole existence is a sham
I’m told about who I used to be
What if that other me was never even really me
And what if I said I’ve changed
What if I’ve grown up and rearranged.
Sure I still love to bake and read
But I’m not the same, let me grow I plead.
I’m an artist. But to what extent.
I can be creative but I should have your consent.
I can draw and be wild
But in your eyes I am still I child.
I want my body as my canvas, to hold the things I love.
But it’s like I am a bandit, one you want rid of.
I want to color my hair to change with the wind.
But you’re inclined to remind me that it’s “just not me”
I never stopped being me don’t you see.
It’s how the me I am should be.
Don’t hold me back
I might draw back.
And sink into my void.
All because you destroyed.
Your wild blue eyed bird

You have to wake up

Democratic or not
Atheist or deciding

Male or female
You have to wake up.

You must.
By force.

No, this is not a question of belief
No, not one of freedom

You are free.
You have to wake up until

You die.

objects moving through space and time,

at a distance as silent as pantomime,

people too travel straight lines,

their geometry,

their temerity,

to stay true to that orbit,

some fly in parallel paths,

chance has its own math,

but when

two paths

cross,

there may be gain or loss,

but when

two in orbit

meet at the same place

and the same time,

the same ship,

a relationship, ...

not the mothership,

in orbit.

Dear Lord,

I thank you today for this gift of food. This, was another child of yours. Abel Abel Abel. An intelligent bird. A member in its dumb chain of life, family: what is family to that insentient mass? Do they mourn when one of them is gone? Does it affect them, does it bother them, does it pain them,

As it does to us? Yes, we, the great golden yardstick against which to measure out the universe.  Dumb, may be, but dumb life with a heart. Who knows about the soul. Isn't soul that little pin-***** somewhere deep in the heart? Do I have one? Do I care, do I mourn, do I see the pain that I cause to these fellow children of yours:

But if not this, what else - a leaf that covers in fear at being plucked, a root, a bulb that in ways we cannot sense with but an instrument, cries out in pain at being uprooted, skinned and roasted live. Or a fruit, that mothership, host to a million seedling lives, every one of them that could grow out to outlive my life by orders. A stalk, a branch, name it.

Yes, this is food. This is a chain. I eat and am eaten. Terrible, this creation, that has sprung from wellsprings of love. Or is not this world the product of a loving God, but that of the evil non-God? But where your omnipotence that is screaming through the scripture hoarse?

No, I am a sinner. I have sinned, to be born in this wretched world. A dead child was washed ashore, the other day. Until then, I said, to hell with those barbarians crossing rivers and mountains to reach my land. But what of death? I boil and burn a billion little lives in my glass of tea every morning, many times over. Oh plasmodium, that I have to **** to live, oh this life that hangs to me like a necessity!

Good Lord, have you made me in your image? What is, whose reflection in spacetime appears like this visage, flesh on ribage, beating heart, pumping lung, viscera and nerve and vein, bone and nail, wallowing in pleasure and pain? That is an inverse problem that baffles our genius. It is ill-posed for certain, with no means of regularization for sure.

I must live I must live I must live. ****, that organism is small, dumb, unintelligent, insentient, it's pain is of another kind, we can't eat air, and we are atop this chain, cobra's head, that houses all the venom. This is evolution, we are evolving space suits to head to the stars and spread the Gospel to those unknown realms still sunk steeped in barbarism.

Yes, He is great, he can be heard in the voices of lunatics that some times  get recorded and transmitted across the generations. And I follow the masters, they were vile, very vile, they were chosen, yea they were chosen, so vile is virtuous, I be vile, I be virtuous, I am chosen, yea, I am chosen, I head to God, on the backs of a thousand dead souls.

Amen. Peace to all those I consign and all the masters I quote. Holy Cain!

I am so tired
that I can’t sleep
I am so exhausted
that my eyes
wont stay closed

I am ridiculously sure
that I am not human
not to say
I know the mothership is coming
I don’t know that

Truthfully
I don’t know much of anything

I am a child
in an aging mans body
which
I am pretty sure
has a lesbian living
underneath its skin

which probably doesn’t make sense
to you when you hear me say it
but nothing inside my head
makes sense to me
so why should you
have the luxury to understand
anything I might say

but it is to say
I will never be a manly man
or see or understand
that way of thinking

that macho drink and ****
as much and as many
people as you can in life

dont get me wrong

I love everything there is to
love about women
which is just everything
their great

well...

most of them at least
or maybe just some of them
I mean that they are no different
in the way we are all the same
we are all
just people
some are great
and a treasure to have in our lives

and others...

not so much

and I have done more
than my fair share
of drinking

A lot more...
enough to never have
to drink again
but I probably will anyway
not so much now though

and, well... yea...
I've liked
the ******* parts too

most of the time

its just that I like

the love

part of *******
more than the
bim-bam-boom ahhhhhhh
I’m sooooo sorry part
that never but sometimes
and almost  always
happens part of *******

that awkward moment when
oh **** my ****
throw up on you moment
it always gets nervous
around pretty girls moment
that I don’t know what to say moment

that...

d’oh!... moment

but I do know
I’m not suppose to say
thank you...
moment

even though once you’ve gone
I will get down on my hands
and my knees
and thank every name
of every god I have ever heard of
for that painfully beautifully
awkward moment
I was lucky enough to spend with you

I guess I’m just a little too quite
a little too shy
a little too nice, maybe

a lot too sensitive

emotionally speaking

in that sense that everything hurts
and everything is beautiful
and the world is ****
but still there must be something
here worth living for

someone who will cringe
and roll there eyes
every time I write
and read another garbage poem to

someone who will love me regardless
no matter how bad things get
no matter how broken my heart is
no matter how horrible
I may look when I die

someone who I will love
as much as I loved
to hate everything about life

Oh, I hates it soooooo much

someone who made
every miserable moment here
worth  the madness of it all

once upon a time
we were just one species
but then came places
and races
and war
until we recombine
our disparate pieces
we will never recognise
the face that came before
the face of the mother of us all

This place is amazing
nothing like anything
Ha! This place is gorgeous!
This place is a palace of some sorts
A mothership,
This place is full of delight and adventure and rainbows
I wouldn't give it up for the world this
Honor, this Creed
clambering continually in calamitous Abyss
Who is it there behind the rainbow curtain,
calling upon my name?

strays
in orange
bless
the brains
they bless
the trash…

-

what nothing
you haven’t
seen

-

the hand-me-down
travel
sickness
that cocoons
in some
what cottons
to others

-

dryness
the money
of angels

I never wanted
to hate you.
We could just never
make it through
a conversation
without some
confrontation.
Bringing up the past;
fermentation
of unrealistic
expectations.
And I’m not saying
that I’m the saint
of this situation.
I know that I’ve been
vacant.
But can you blame me
for trying to preserve
my memory
of the mother
you used to be;
smiles not filtered
through amphetamine.
Teeth gleaming,
eyes seeing
past the woes of this world
you created me for.

I feel out of place
Out of place like a mushroom in a green salad
Like an all-male rendition of Cats on Broadway
Like Godzilla on Melrose Avenue
I feel like an adoptee in my own body
It's like "Hey! how long have you been here?"

My sentences are cut short whenever I try to speak because
Of all the train wreck shows that people could watch, I'm the one that's been off air for billions of years
Relevance
That's what I lack
If I open my mouth
I sound like I'm from another planet
A stranger on this earth, in this land, in this city
And I can't forget my mother's words
"You'll fit in somewhere."
But the boat to ****** island already left, and I'm a bad swimmer

Let me feel at ease
Let even my whispers make sense
Let me touch someone without feeling like I'm burning them
Let me do my campaign of shock and awe like a living creature in a cabinet of curiosities

I feel out of place
Like the lightning that falls inches from the tree
Like a satellite thrown off the Earth's orbit
Out of place
Like a missing sock ****** for the rest of eternity
Like a plastic bag drifting through the wind, thank you Katy Perry

In my own skin
I feel too big and too small
All at once
This rock in space feels odd, like it's not home
But the mothership is long gone
And, what can I say
I guess I'm stuck here

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.

The first taste of Fall , with a slight nip in the air , reminds me of a five year old in his Astronaut gear ! Football helmet , pliers and hammer from Dads tool case ! Yellow raincoat and cowboy boots , outside the Eagle on Tranquility Base , Neil Armstrong  exploring the creek beside the Mothership ...Home ..Crawdad matches , tadpoles , mud puppies , mantids , a few June Bugs with kite string tied to one leg ..Aggies , Immies , shooters and swirls , GI Joes , jack stones and wood gliders ....

Big ideas and big plans often yield grand results for the nation’s most prominent African Americans of influence. In the complex world of high society, often viewed as one of privilege, there is more to being a socialite or a “black socialite” than a strong fashion sense or having a triple-booked social calendar—true philanthropic efforts are often involved. The philanthropic season, in full swing twice a year—generally March to May and again from August to December—equals no more than six to eight months total. The entire high society and or philanthropic calendar can often appear overwhelming. However, giving, and getting others to give, is the name of the game and it takes more than one would imagine to make the magic happen.

In New York City, the noteworthy names such as Alicia Bythewood, Kathryn Chenault, Susan Fales-Hilland Grace Hightower De Niro immediately come to mind. On the West Coast, by way of San Francisco, it’s Pamela Joyner who dominates both the society and philanthropic circles with her art world successes—which often make national headlines. We recently consulted Ivy Leaguer, Delta Sigma Theta sister, and Links member Helen Shelton of Finn Partners, a well-seasoned PR expert. Additionally, we spoke with rising New York socialite Dr. Shirley Madhere, a highly regarded cosmetic surgeon and lady of leisure on her favorite philanthropic causes. Each provide valuable insight and key elements we all must concentrate on should we wish to head up our own charitable event.

How long have you been involved with charitable events? What aspects of planning events do you enjoy most? How do you determine which organizations to devote your time to?

HS: Professionally, 15 years; personally all of my life. From a professional standpoint, my favorite aspect of production has always been the creative process. I am always thrilled to see an actual campaign I’ve created come to life.

SM: The cause must resonate with me with substance on many levels: the people. the purpose, and the spirit.

What are a few of your favorite African American organizations?

HS: I am a proponent of what I call “mothership” organizations, such as the NAACP and the New York Urban League. I’m a board member of ColorComm, the national organization that advances women of color in the communications industry.

SM: The Studio Museum in Harlem and various Haiti-related organizations.

What host committees have you been part of? If applicable, how does it differ from working from the PR side?

HS: ColorComm, The Links. In my personal charity work I somehow end up playing the role of communications chair, on top of the duties of actually facilitating the event and working on behind-the-scenes production aspects, such as video production.

SM: I must admit, the recent Youth America Grand Prix an event that I co-chaired at BAM (Brooklyn Academy of Music) was breathtakingly inspiring. I have supported, ABT, Beauty 4 Empowerment, and the Smart Woman Project.

What prominent African American women do you feel are true leaders in a hosting/socialite capacity now? And who are historically influential?

HS: Dr. Marcella Maxwell (a Delta Sigma Theta member like myself), Alma Rangel (wife of Charles Rangel), Kathryn Chenault, Leslie Lewis Sword, Susan Fales-Hill, Pamela Joyner, Desirée Rogers, Cathy Hughes, and Sylvina Shelton, wife to Charles E. Shelton formerly of The New York Times.

SM: My mother, my aunts, fashion designer Stella Jean, Oprah, Beyoncé, have influenced me positively. Numerous other women of various other cultures who have created, disrupted, fallen then risen, enhanced the game, shifted paradigms, and continue to astound with their contributions to humanity.

How can YOU be a success heading up your own charitable event?

When it comes to successfully heading up your own charitable event, Madhere suggests you “become engaged, committed, and excited.” According to PR expert Shelton, follow these essential steps to be a success heading up your OWN charitable event…

Have a great cause that people can relate to. This is a competitive environment and every sponsorship dollar or investment needs to be accounted for. Accountability, is of the utmost importance so delivering on return for your sponsors is essential.

Create a fabulous environment and offer a wonderful experience. Sometimes less is more , so it is not always necessary to have champagne flowing—as an example—if you have beautiful florals, delicious food, and wonderful entertainment, you can’t go wrong. If people are having a great time, they have no problem returning and becoming long-term supporters of your cause.

Set realistic fundraising goals and have a sponsorship package that is appealing to a cross-section of interests and above all, network, network, network!Read more at:http://www.marieaustralia.com/formal-dresses-adelaide | www.marieaustralia.com/formal-dresses-perth

I'm leaving this planet
An alien that was never intended
Finally contacts it's mothership

The shapes and sounds here no longer make sense to me
I'm not certain they ever did
Denial was my first encounter in this place
Information was my undoing
Curiosity makes for madness

But where logic should be
sits a sponge soaked and bloated
No way to understand it's origins

The oxygen here tastes of metal
I breathed in not knowing it's toxicity

The tree's grow smaller every year
breaking under the weight of progress

No clear explanation for this "God" you all speak of
But so many eyes grow deluded when hearing it's name

Intergalactic flight seems only logical

I say so long you tragic race

I will always remember your depraved dances and hysterical collisions

I will do my utmost to forget the monsters you call beautiful

Peace

Did you hear what that old man was thinking?

Morphic resonance is the experimental name,
I think we are served by nodes on a net
not spread in the sight of any bird,

a chthonic net of stone,
girdling the globe in granite, crystalline granite,

take it for granted, these boulders are the witnesses,
the scars of catastrophe,
causing us to wonder
how came this to be? Think Yosemite, Ansel Adams POV

Think Matterhorn und Mt.Blanc,
Old Rockytop, and
Dos Cabezas and Long Valley Mountain, all that granite,
old as earth.

Listen.
Time is the idea we share at the moment,
Earth's is the life we share at the same time.

This is Spaceship Earth, looping Sol as Sol loops Sirius,
and there is no mothership,
no resupply.

This is the only earth, it has survived several civilized
monstrosities. As you know, some mortals can't
imagine not surviving with it, so
we words of earthbound muse,
let slip the bands of pride in time to see,
we are the music,
we make beauty behave as will believes, voluntarily,
it seems,
we choose beauty with little de
liberation, no need to
unlock ledgers and boxes of known safe knowns,

we imagine ourselves
defying the
de-ified con instituted authorities warning,
given us, they swear by the very vicars of the oil:
We warn you…

hell's the price, they swear, that we,
the people, pay for heresy,
dare not think those-
no, no, nor hear and see, or never imagine thinking
a selfish thought,
one you find curiously comforting, for you, your idea,
but
stop…
one heresy breeds another,
soon we shall have a collective
of individual minds agreeing at once,

as all see a particular arranging of colors, in a sunset's
single effortless existence as a thing
with mortal mindable beauty,

did you belive the sunset, or may you, if you wish?

__ unravel, and re ravel to save the thread,
it has lead through the maze before,
I have a witness who tests ifies.

Great unquarried granite, but that forms another story
upon precepts as yet

unglued, un-coagulated, ah, curdled, precepts cultural
curdle and clump together.
Biomes are adjusting the rethinking of pathos,
ethos shall follow,
as night follows day, just wait.

Patience is formed from memes more than experience,
you bet the old man was not lying.

Slow and steady, wins the grace. Take it easy. Fade away…

I heard I could tie all my veins and arteries together and they would circle the earth so I thought if we laced ours together we could reach the moon
and watch stars blaze like one hundred billion cigarettes in the dark
skinny dip through purple orange green supernova explosions
curl up in a crater and watch the world spin like a cumbersome ballerina then we’d dive back down from the moon to the mothership
and unbraid our veins, separating mine from yours.
But without those vascular knots we’d start drifting apart just like Pangaea.
We’d both begin forgetting how we ballroom danced through constellations together how our fingertips wrinkled like walnuts outside the atmosphere
how we sunbathed under the incandescence of blue supergiants

Is it truly human nature
This fear of the unknown?
We see aliens among us
And we'd rather be alone

Not look inside their homeless void
To seas of stars they drift across
From planets now destroyed
Systems rendered lifeless  
By battle droids we have deployed
And Death-star machinations
Despot warlord tractor beams
Cause anti-gravitations
Of resource, culture, sovereignty
Drained into the mothership
Warp-drives of Lady Liberty's
Distortion of democracy

To us their eyes are oil
Their tongues are suicide
Their offspring are jihadists
That we have crucified

The future of their species
Ethnic cleansed and slaughtered
Galactic-level genocide
By humanoid marauders
Reducing sentient creatures
To ion-cannon fodders
Then activate the forcefields
Preventing the invasion
Of refugees we've added
To the anti-life equation
As worm holes of our hatred grow
Infinitely to all we know

Different in appearance
But of the same design
If we'd but open universal
Borders of the mind

They told me to make my voice smaller so it made everyone less uncomfortable
They told me to move on because they wanted me to look like the crazy ex girlfriend
They told me I could never do the things I'm doing

So I ripped their throats out
Stuck it in a blender
Watched it whizz and turn
Mush and faded potions

How does it make you feel to have your voice ripped out of its mothership?

I once Up-jupped the bogggie
And it cost me
Pallax common
'super-sudsy0freee

Man near that up-jump-ta-boogie
encroach upon my my periphery
**** has gone sideways for the the 'upjunktafunk'
"the" the"'upjunktafunk'

And I cannot  see clearly for the Obfusticarion (the mothership) thermal powers that cannot 'get' funk'

Let’s take a trip deep on a ride
Into the mothership as i dip
into my minds conscious
flyin’ at light Speeds greed
fiend for the good life strife
seemed to followed me
troubles all in me
Cant get away from my enemies
since i was born
i was destined to die no lie cries
from my soul and heart tellin’ me not to part
Its demons vs demons
They tag teamin' day dreamin' im schemin’
lookin' for the position to plot
so my body can rott
deep in hell **** the holy grail as i sail
into another dimension need i mention
i got homies that want to join me two
so why don’t you too?
Uh aint nobody gonna miss you boo
So i look to
all types of weaponry to choose from then some
m-14,m-16 380 9s,to 249s
saws graphic i can’t wait til i be covered in plastic
white sheets visions to *****
so i had to be censored
not even the devil knew me
I know nobody woul feel me
kiss with death n soon we'll be one of a kind
feel the pressure from my brain cells to my spine
urgin’ for the flat line ,
Quarter pass 12 am in the morning
no yawning
load the clip up time for me to shut up
bullet to my head {Pops off} im glad im dead
body red stiff as a log as the maggots feed
off my flesh
I became a denominator
Cuz death seems much greater
now im restin’ scornfully
released my demons now they roamin’ freely
Prepare for the eulogy  G

givin' a shout out
to all the young fellas
chasin' cheddar
hands on the berrata
cuz im go getter
like my hoes wetter
than the average twist .  cabbage
born a savage ill die a savage
these are just
the tales from the hood g
outkast built in me
no phonies on my block
we all had to knock
a hustle drugs n thangs for the struggle
we got switches n dead bodies in the dit ch es
some time my minds
spins faster than helicopter
propellers
aint neva chased a yella
bone phone home
soon cuz i feel the doom
sealin' my death soom
boom
there i go into another dimension
with all my past folks
blowin' smoke
sayin' jokes
we havin a good time
kick a good rhymes
feelin o so fine
drinkin' red wine
no body cant come between
my happiness
if ya know what i mean
aint no hate but i got hate
to all haters
watch me catch a gun in they pate
but thats reality
friends turn to foes i suppose
???


once upon a funky rhyme
i laid this beat so hard
it should be considered a crime
uh minds was blown
six feet deep as my spirit sinks
lower than a submarine
no radar could locate
my reality in actuality i be
silky smooth cuttin the groove
make ya wanna move
ya feet check my afro thick
with a fist pik n stick
the baddest hos with the baddest flows
cadillac music in ya trunk
so dont loose it
rhymes is choosen carefully
me and partna be
enticin girls like teddiy
pendergrass rough as a diaper rash crash
gotta make this cash
on delivery cods down for opp
opressors pimpin the poor
time to even the score sound the drums for war as i soar
in the mothership with two clips
on my nine blunt to lips
even got my girl packin
pistols n **** quick to whip
lift a fool out his frame
rick james cuz i got fire and desire
roll over ya *** like a set of tires grip the game like pliers
as i add peak to ya amfliers
who am i? Kb (killin'beats)ill be like this til they day i die
my homie and i aqueminiiiii

Let meexplore your blackwhole with my Apollo 6. 9
Let me make my way down your milky way, all the round Orion’s belt
finally I’m there where time meets destination we will speak in intergalactics
Enter and intertwine dimensions
And I’d imagine all 3 billion universes I’d touch with a word
make you familiar with all 3 billion
And make you take up all their tongues
I’d be on the centre of your world just moon talking
can you hear me?
because I feel you.
You are you speaking to me
In accents only Venus and mars would hear and understand
And I understand
I am THERE with you
In this perfect space and a time continuum
Continuous waves of shooting stars
Bombard me with rippling shifts of her inner
And I am aiming for your   centre
My mothership is locked!
Target,seek and destroy, seek and destroy
Mission! Devour and conquer

by; Cinga Sizani

Mother you followed
Me through strife
Now I'm closed out to myself
Like closed doors
Of an open place
Just there for greetings
My life found meaning
Living up to your ideals
Talking all time
Later I'd understand the wheels
That took me through the fields
Of gold
That were just dead
Understanding that auric was the color
Color became an ideal
Tying me to my unkempt hair
Filled with ideas
Places I went to never came back with you
Flowing through you
Now understanding you
Seems like the beginning
Of birth to me
The Bible doesn't mean much to my
Mind
Even on a comfortable Sunday
Doubtful of my life
Debts caught me inept
Until others crept
Mother you kept them out
Strings of paper
Offered in your memory
Maybe you can't remember me
I found your memory
In just the remnant of me

four kilo's of skin
and scruff and fur

four kilos of wrinkled blue
of velveteen and corrugation
of bat ears and amber green eyes

four kilo's of meow
and  chatter and purr

given in love
given to love
lover of sun
and warmth
and all things
chicken

collector of hearts
and bugs, lizards
socks and *****

littleblucat
so very big
in heart
for one so small

it has been
just on a year
since you were
called back
to the mothership

and yet
I still look to find you
still expect to hear you
and wonder why the
new batch of skinks
still retain their tails

you were such a small thing
to leave such a big gap

She looked into the jaundiced eyes of the sorry creature. There was no remorse in those slit pupils, only vile hatred spurred on by its most central emotion - FEAR.

"You're going to take us out of here", the young seraphim said bluntly. "This rattletrap is going to crash on that planet. This is our only way out."

But before the doors whispered shut, another had entered the pod. He knew better then to engage Namé at that moment. The pilot had to do his job! That white haired witch was going to make him do it, TOO! As the pair strapped themselves into the swivel seats of the pod, the interloper braced himself for the blinding speed of take off.

The planet they had been circling was mostly blue. There were mottled areas on it which its inhabitants knew as "continents". And swirls of what looked like vapor which were known to those who lived there as "clouds."

The Pod was jettisoned from the Mothership with tremendous G-Force. The stowaway was flattened against the bulkhead. Starchild closed her eyes. the eyes of the pilot narrowed to slits. Off they went into a mystery of how the trip was going to end. Things did not go well.

They circled the planet, getting lower and lower into the atmosphere. The pods were made for ship-to-ship traversing, or maintenance of the Mothership. They weren't necessarily parachute type vehicles. The larger saucer-shaped ships were for the purpose of Planet entry. So the Pod was completely and totally insufficient for the beating it was going to take. Not to mention the HEATING.

The Pod literally started to melt when it reached the lower entry stages of the atmosphere. Then, all of a sudden, a miracle! They entered cold front temperatures over "Siberia" as that part of their world was called by its inhabitants. And the Pod door wickerd open! Stowaway and Starchild both exited in a Flash! Namé had no idea of the other. But the interloper knew exactly who she was. The pilot got caught in the strapping, and screamed piteously as the Pod went down in flames. Game over for him.

Unfortunately for interloper he was caught on the wing of a plane headed out over the Pacific Ocean. His cloak finally tore just over a desert island. And he landed on its sholes.

The Starchild fell into the floes of a snowbank, unharmed though her light tunic had burned off of her body. She herself was impervious to heat or cold. She had been spewed from the belly of one Beast into the bowels of another... EARTH.