"oort" poems - Hello Poetry

I'm really sick. Like ***** is going to come out of my mouth-- an eruption of **** from my ears is due. I've laid too long dormant and one by one the hot spots of my petty jealousy, indignation, and mistrust are at boiling points: The Ring of Fire, they call it. Yellowstone I'm the ********* Yellowstone caldera. The great rim, ****** up and blister scarred, knock-kneed from falling out of bed in nightmares, weird from the predisposition to volcanic shittiness (not in a romantic way) but none the less active, or reactive. This vexation is as old as grinding plates. This repulsion is as old as the poisoning of Aristotle My head is the Spartan scythe because I'm a new sign in an old world. I use old signs to poison this newly dug well between us But not well can I keep this message banner ******* billboard to myself. So let me just wrap the code from ear to ear, in plain text where you can see the cypher: **** your red dress. You see, those blisters are the gravity between White Dwarves pulling at skin, and earth, and ending thrown halfway across the universe. I knew I'd seen you before, there at the edge of the Oort Cloud where we tell people we just met: I stopped eating I was hurt once I was ugly too and no one was really listening. You and the rest of our red dresses meant too little. But still then why do you whine over the hungry, and hurt, and ugly and spit in my face for being there at the Edge, and for loving the thrill in listlessness, the passion in mundanity? And that ******** about the shallowness of victims? You didn’t learn a thing traveling and trusting and falling out of beds. Your drunken honesty is your sober lack of layers. This isn’t a far reach of space, your torn dress and cork heels won't work here. Don’t bring that littleness here, you're the only one not really listening now.

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Jan 11, 2015

Jan 11, 2015 at 12:25 AM UTC

kazarat

The Drunken Lack of Layers to Ms. Almond

I'm really sick. Like ***** is going to come out of my mouth-- an eruption of **** from my ears is due. I've laid too long dormant and one by one the hot spots of my petty jealousy, indignation, and mistrust are at boiling points: The Ring of Fire, they call it. Yellowstone I'm the ********* Yellowstone caldera. The great rim, ****** up and blister scarred, knock-kneed from falling out of bed in nightmares, weird from the predisposition to volcanic shittiness (not in a romantic way) but none the less active, or reactive. This vexation is as old as grinding plates. This repulsion is as old as the poisoning of Aristotle My head is the Spartan scythe because I'm a new sign in an old world. I use old signs to poison this newly dug well between us But not well can I keep this message banner ******* billboard to myself. So let me just wrap the code from ear to ear, in plain text where you can see the cypher: **** your red dress. You see, those blisters are the gravity between White Dwarves pulling at skin, and earth, and ending thrown halfway across the universe. I knew I'd seen you before, there at the edge of the Oort Cloud where we tell people we just met: I stopped eating I was hurt once I was ugly too and no one was really listening. You and the rest of our red dresses meant too little. But still then why do you whine over the hungry, and hurt, and ugly and spit in my face for being there at the Edge, and for loving the thrill in listlessness, the passion in mundanity? And that ******** about the shallowness of victims? You didn’t learn a thing traveling and trusting and falling out of beds. Your drunken honesty is your sober lack of layers. This isn’t a far reach of space, your torn dress and cork heels won't work here. Don’t bring that littleness here, you're the only one not really listening now.

51

sunspot sunrise sunshine moonshine i lick you off my lips like strawberry pineapple grape juice a fine wine that i’ve never drunk. asteroid belt orion’s belt daddy’s belt i am opening the door a crack for you only to slam it in your face—i am waiting for you to knock to pound your fist against the gate to break your hand on the wood i am waiting for you to say that you love me and i am waiting for myself to believe it completely (i think you do but i am still afraid you might leave me) ((jupiter has 67 moons and i think that i might be each and every single one of them)). oort cloud smoke cloud the burning ash of my father’s lit cigar flicking onto my hands i am awake at night and thinking about how you no longer taste like lung mouth kidney cancer. my grandfather almost died of prostate cancer my friend is dying of brain cancer my father will probably die of liver cancer there is not enough space in the cosmos for all of us, is there? … God? meteorite meteoright i am trying to sleep without your face in the back of my neck hand on the back of my hand leg tangled around the back of mine i am trying to telepathically whisper my secrets into your ears but the only problem is that i have not yet mastered this form of communication— i think that everything would be so much easier if i just didn’t feel.

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Feb 5, 2015

Feb 5, 2015 at 12:19 PM UTC

taylor-st-onge

you look like canis major when i squint my eyes

sunspot sunrise sunshine moonshine i lick you off my lips like strawberry pineapple grape juice a fine wine that i’ve never drunk. asteroid belt orion’s belt daddy’s belt i am opening the door a crack for you only to slam it in your face—i am waiting for you to knock to pound your fist against the gate to break your hand on the wood i am waiting for you to say that you love me and i am waiting for myself to believe it completely (i think you do but i am still afraid you might leave me) ((jupiter has 67 moons and i think that i might be each and every single one of them)). oort cloud smoke cloud the burning ash of my father’s lit cigar flicking onto my hands i am awake at night and thinking about how you no longer taste like lung mouth kidney cancer. my grandfather almost died of prostate cancer my friend is dying of brain cancer my father will probably die of liver cancer there is not enough space in the cosmos for all of us, is there? … God? meteorite meteoright i am trying to sleep without your face in the back of my neck hand on the back of my hand leg tangled around the back of mine i am trying to telepathically whisper my secrets into your ears but the only problem is that i have not yet mastered this form of communication— i think that everything would be so much easier if i just didn’t feel.

40

I am running... into a tunnel that seems to be nothing but a galaxy of voices Echo the stars into its shooting state, for I chose to ignore their choices Comets have left their trace, But like an icy breath, their existence goes extinct Cover my ears! For their twinkling whispers of constellations will never predict The future laid aside for this black hole Dreamer. For I have disposed the old axis The dwarfs of my outter life I have chosen to betray, I need a morphallaxis Soften my core with an after glow ripple of silence, and open up wisdom through the coronal holes Cover My Ears! I only listen to the language of the Solar winds. It understands my soul My planet has enough craters... No more damage shall be done. I am the mistress of dark matter My past and memories have been dipped in the light of a lunar eclipse, it's blood scatters Only within a Large field of view can I recognize it's purpose. Not through men's atmosphere Cover My Ears! I must deal with these super clusters of instincts alone. Now and Here The Super Novas have no sensitivity to the relationship of Outer Space and Precious moments Gravity is quick to make me stumble...So now I beg the Novas to no longer see me as an opponent My life has been spilt into two hemispheres. Meteors shower down, destroying every Neutron Star Cover My Ears! For only my eyes will notice the Satellite from afar Where is my home? The milky way? The singularity of my black hole had ****** me in Please someone! Anyone! Flare me away at the speed of light! No longer do I wish to be a captive of sin Once blinded by the Oort cloud, But praise the Nebula's, I am now a T-Tauri of a young force and desire Cover My Ears! Oh Zeinth! So I may focus on your celestial point of view. Your rays are my purifier. Cover My Ears...

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Jan 31, 2018

Jan 31, 2018 at 8:15 AM UTC

ClawedBeauty101

A Galaxy's Plead (Cover My Ears)

I am running... into a tunnel that seems to be nothing but a galaxy of voices Echo the stars into its shooting state, for I chose to ignore their choices Comets have left their trace, But like an icy breath, their existence goes extinct Cover my ears! For their twinkling whispers of constellations will never predict The future laid aside for this black hole Dreamer. For I have disposed the old axis The dwarfs of my outter life I have chosen to betray, I need a morphallaxis Soften my core with an after glow ripple of silence, and open up wisdom through the coronal holes Cover My Ears! I only listen to the language of the Solar winds. It understands my soul My planet has enough craters... No more damage shall be done. I am the mistress of dark matter My past and memories have been dipped in the light of a lunar eclipse, it's blood scatters Only within a Large field of view can I recognize it's purpose. Not through men's atmosphere Cover My Ears! I must deal with these super clusters of instincts alone. Now and Here The Super Novas have no sensitivity to the relationship of Outer Space and Precious moments Gravity is quick to make me stumble...So now I beg the Novas to no longer see me as an opponent My life has been spilt into two hemispheres. Meteors shower down, destroying every Neutron Star Cover My Ears! For only my eyes will notice the Satellite from afar Where is my home? The milky way? The singularity of my black hole had ****** me in Please someone! Anyone! Flare me away at the speed of light! No longer do I wish to be a captive of sin Once blinded by the Oort cloud, But praise the Nebula's, I am now a T-Tauri of a young force and desire Cover My Ears! Oh Zeinth! So I may focus on your celestial point of view. Your rays are my purifier. Cover My Ears...

21

Where do good ideas come from? They shrivel away from the hypnotizing light of a virtual socialite They grow toward the sun out above the clouds Ever-present from birth to death, They're the latest permutations of the same explosion that started that Fusion core up there running Running without stopping for a billion years Fueling the experiments of life that consciousness spontaneously manifested Across the planets Each a test of a different vibrational frequency Incompatible with one another but coexistent Mercury's barren silver mines And the Venusian valleys And the regal red sands of Mars And Jupiter's infinite wisdom and so forth to the edge of the Oort Cloud And the green and blue ecology of earth, the waterworld Where the entire drama we've seen so far has been carried out The audience has grown in appetite And doesn't always see that it too is the performance But the unwilling blindness is all part of the sublime suspense of this subcosmic game The planetary curiosity, Can we make it? Would it matter? We'll never truly die when we forget time

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May 1, 2013

May 1, 2013 at 12:14 PM UTC

owen-phillips

Life Experiments

Where do good ideas come from? They shrivel away from the hypnotizing light of a virtual socialite They grow toward the sun out above the clouds Ever-present from birth to death, They're the latest permutations of the same explosion that started that Fusion core up there running Running without stopping for a billion years Fueling the experiments of life that consciousness spontaneously manifested Across the planets Each a test of a different vibrational frequency Incompatible with one another but coexistent Mercury's barren silver mines And the Venusian valleys And the regal red sands of Mars And Jupiter's infinite wisdom and so forth to the edge of the Oort Cloud And the green and blue ecology of earth, the waterworld Where the entire drama we've seen so far has been carried out The audience has grown in appetite And doesn't always see that it too is the performance But the unwilling blindness is all part of the sublime suspense of this subcosmic game The planetary curiosity, Can we make it? Would it matter? We'll never truly die when we forget time

23

Dear Houston, does the waterbug skittering at the bottom of the pond, searching for a meal or a lay, think that the waterlogged cardboard box floating saggy on the surface is a small planet or a constellation? Is the plastic grocery bag an Oort Cloud? When the waterbug rolls helpless in underwater currents that she can't understand, is the swirling dust, and feathers, and leaves, a whirling Milky Way to her? Is the audible rumbling of the highway the voice of the universe?

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May 5, 2014

May 5, 2014 at 12:25 AM UTC

joe-roberts

Trash Floating

Dear Houston, does the waterbug skittering at the bottom of the pond, searching for a meal or a lay, think that the waterlogged cardboard box floating saggy on the surface is a small planet or a constellation? Is the plastic grocery bag an Oort Cloud? When the waterbug rolls helpless in underwater currents that she can't understand, is the swirling dust, and feathers, and leaves, a whirling Milky Way to her? Is the audible rumbling of the highway the voice of the universe?

19

High on Tumuli, Keeled in sways washed out from brazen oceans... ...the birds may have me now... Prey!..strip this ageing skin, then take my eyes. Let the Oort Cloud iris break upon these lakes of trancing humour, as Veronicas of astral grace silk down the valley strides.

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Oct 17, 2016

Oct 17, 2016 at 11:49 AM UTC

alistair-william-bullen

Mynydd y Garth

High on Tumuli, Keeled in sways washed out from brazen oceans... ...the birds may have me now... Prey!..strip this ageing skin, then take my eyes. Let the Oort Cloud iris break upon these lakes of trancing humour, as Veronicas of astral grace silk down the valley strides.

8

When an astronomer says, very densely packed, of matter - as in the Oort cloud, he is in another scale of thought, augmented by science used with knowledge of fore gone conclusions as to metrics on con sci user's speed of thought, where reality doesn't care if you believe it or not. We are all past-understanding, we are the lifeship earth peace makers, the entire crew, auto, right, mathic-myth, sentience intended to manifest in time to make that final ****** pop the bubble of babble's biggest fuss race to spew the luke warm from my mouth and watch, each drop of venom sprouts a rod of an almond tree. {I predicted the return of this riddle} Maybe and whatif are not ex-act-ed-ly, no, actually -- see, slow… see maybe and trust are crushed words, compacted as the density of any den of thieves becomes assumedwiseasstreetspunky, slang, coo' thoughts merge from phrases to signals true rest may be, if we survive next as we imagine it, resting in truth, matters or not, spirit of philio or spirit of sophia, we agree, shoulder to shoulder, elbo-grease and oompha songs, hup, we hup, we lift the foot from the mud, find the boot has lost its irony soul, sould, American, LSMFT, never forget!! When the joker told the thief of the must be way, the liar, himself, believed the whole story… that was magic, not a trick, not a cheat. You know reality does not care. {evidence, in the mystery of iniquity working thread} The reason beauty is, is you. Seeing, you doing the seeing, witnessing the irrationality of iridescent humming birds playing in my cloudless January sunset, all along the 33rd parallel.

0

Jan 15, 2021

Jan 15, 2021 at 7:50 PM UTC

kenpepiton

A global sunset at slow thought speed

When an astronomer says, very densely packed, of matter - as in the Oort cloud, he is in another scale of thought, augmented by science used with knowledge of fore gone conclusions as to metrics on con sci user's speed of thought, where reality doesn't care if you believe it or not. We are all past-understanding, we are the lifeship earth peace makers, the entire crew, auto, right, mathic-myth, sentience intended to manifest in time to make that final ****** pop the bubble of babble's biggest fuss race to spew the luke warm from my mouth and watch, each drop of venom sprouts a rod of an almond tree. {I predicted the return of this riddle} Maybe and whatif are not ex-act-ed-ly, no, actually -- see, slow… see maybe and trust are crushed words, compacted as the density of any den of thieves becomes assumedwiseasstreetspunky, slang, coo' thoughts merge from phrases to signals true rest may be, if we survive next as we imagine it, resting in truth, matters or not, spirit of philio or spirit of sophia, we agree, shoulder to shoulder, elbo-grease and oompha songs, hup, we hup, we lift the foot from the mud, find the boot has lost its irony soul, sould, American, LSMFT, never forget!! When the joker told the thief of the must be way, the liar, himself, believed the whole story… that was magic, not a trick, not a cheat. You know reality does not care. {evidence, in the mystery of iniquity working thread} The reason beauty is, is you. Seeing, you doing the seeing, witnessing the irrationality of iridescent humming birds playing in my cloudless January sunset, all along the 33rd parallel.

51

I cannot breathe, the first time you ask me to leave I cannot sleep, my knees keep trembling and I feel so weak My stomach is pulling me in and out of my mind I'm loosing myself in sickness and in fray All I wanted is to be okay, till death rip me apart I cannot close my eyes, I'm melting inside I kept hearing words, letters, numbers and voices I needed time, space and the unknown pull me back up throw me out throw me up let me out breathe in and spiral me out this needs to stop I cannot breathe, the first time you ask me to leave I was staring right back at you staring deep into those eyes so deep, that I cannot let this happen How can I let this celestial beauty pass by I want to dive deep inside those binary eyes Explore the undiplomatic universe I'll shoot myself into flare Wander in every unknown galaxies Watch the all the stars explode all the black holes implode Watch us our soul perform the ablation I'll ride the Oort Cloud Navigate every quadrant Jump from planet to planet And discover the hidden truth about those eyes those psychotic and hypnotic eyes Why would you not let me in? Inside those beautiful head of yours? Now, I cannot breathe again, and again, and again and again None of us can leave, Neither of us can escape My body's starts shaking My head is all over the place I cannot breathe, when you ask me to leave This hands keeps writing about a distant memory from the future the words were: "This is not happening, this is only exist in your head, those little voices are your worst enemy and hey guest what? your best friend. They exist so you can live, they creep at night to tell yout to sleep But you're so afraid of them that's why you can't sleep" I got up went to the bathroom sink splash some water on my face I look in to the mirror I stare at it and for the longest time I look at my face and I said: "You can leave"

0

Aug 9, 2019

Aug 9, 2019 at 1:39 AM UTC

raquezha

i can/t

I cannot breathe, the first time you ask me to leave I cannot sleep, my knees keep trembling and I feel so weak My stomach is pulling me in and out of my mind I'm loosing myself in sickness and in fray All I wanted is to be okay, till death rip me apart I cannot close my eyes, I'm melting inside I kept hearing words, letters, numbers and voices I needed time, space and the unknown pull me back up throw me out throw me up let me out breathe in and spiral me out this needs to stop I cannot breathe, the first time you ask me to leave I was staring right back at you staring deep into those eyes so deep, that I cannot let this happen How can I let this celestial beauty pass by I want to dive deep inside those binary eyes Explore the undiplomatic universe I'll shoot myself into flare Wander in every unknown galaxies Watch the all the stars explode all the black holes implode Watch us our soul perform the ablation I'll ride the Oort Cloud Navigate every quadrant Jump from planet to planet And discover the hidden truth about those eyes those psychotic and hypnotic eyes Why would you not let me in? Inside those beautiful head of yours? Now, I cannot breathe again, and again, and again and again None of us can leave, Neither of us can escape My body's starts shaking My head is all over the place I cannot breathe, when you ask me to leave This hands keeps writing about a distant memory from the future the words were: "This is not happening, this is only exist in your head, those little voices are your worst enemy and hey guest what? your best friend. They exist so you can live, they creep at night to tell yout to sleep But you're so afraid of them that's why you can't sleep" I got up went to the bathroom sink splash some water on my face I look in to the mirror I stare at it and for the longest time I look at my face and I said: "You can leave"

58