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Àŧùl Jun 2014
Conquering the world with fear & terror,
Were their techniques & tactics any good?

If they were genuinely powerful indeed,
Would they not show their might in persuasion?

Instilling a fear of death they would not have put efforts,
Did they not know that death is a bitter but compulsory truth of life?

And today the world is largely unaffected by violence,
Efforts are on to defeat death by peaceful means that involve Ethos & Pathos.
My HP Poem #644
©Atul Kaushal
Sean Winslow Apr 2014
There must be respite in the ebon quake
lids like nightling moths,
fluttered above the littered fields
barren but for the ebb and tide of moonlight
thick as milk.
Feeble grip shakes loose
tossed down below a carbon root
took hold,
a heart in repose
as it would to the sounds
of thunder.
try not to panic
Copyright ©2010-2014 Sean Winslow All Rights Reserved
Luna Feb 2016
Maybe we are two moons,
but I exist right here
and you're nowhere near
for you exist somewhere else

Although two moons
orbiting a single sphere
are quite feasible,
they exist in another world

You and I are possible
Two moons on the same course
that's guided by the same force
But maybe in a different planet

You and I are possible
Like Mars' Phobos and Deimos
But in this Earth we can't stay
Maybe not now, but someday
Lyn-Purcell Aug 2018
The mirror reflects no lie.
And at times, that's what I fear most.
If anyone wants to read the Letter and Gala series, it's now in a public collection!
Lyn ***
Daniel A Russ Jul 2010
Maiden, maiden, maiden, a depilidate mobious minaret –
Holical, Eris begs an atlatl defection, the
Genuis-from-Mars technique – an erathicus lecanopteris.
Suffretex, past-perfection in pastel gloxinia,
Glowingly acidic and shiftingly glossidic, it’s cosmaltry mariala;
Ungual outmoded, holonym singing Aquilar rapax as demiurge.
Demos and Phobos weep, coruscating terrathos, killing riva.

Swell quickly, optic ophidia, lest the ira florena rise –
Rise, maiden, rise optic ophidia, ignore Irredelphine!
Strut the hematacolpa and pace-willow, but fail flow:
Deciduous telechir beckons, demanding autobogotic-hajra.
****-venom and picea hovea, eche verri naught echo –
Beta-decay and COBOL error, fandango with teeth
And sing praise for Eucladanic soignè solaris

Sprint quick, maiden-solidago gesparisè, to Misra pourum!
Majerns and hapax, death-knell aloud and encelia,
Enfloranè, haste! Enatic haste tichodrome, flee, anise!
Apios, harken: tryst-sans-thermobic sweeping of thresher-thrown,
Little-low else yet achroma, de-jubilance:
Fall fairly, ayah! So to be so, blanking systemic,
A thousand steps for one death.
Chris May 2019
It's me, can't you feel,
I love  you but I make you scream,
You won't die as long as I'm here.

You won't die,
but you'll never really live.

Can't you feel the shiver,
the paralyzing fear,
That makes you a useless ****,
Whenever I am here,

I will shroud you,
I will give
You will not die,
You'll never live.
Fear
Annie Quill Jan 2016
Oh moon of Mars
Innermost satellite
Falling around mars in a mere eight hours
How fast that is!
How awing
In less than a day you go around
In a mere school day
You have gone around once
What an amazing thing!
ΟΥΤΙΣ Feb 2015
in the temple at delphi

upon the steps afront

my crown of wire lay



a pile of birds

sat crossed in thirds

my lungs resigned in splay



phobos’ kiss afflicts with bliss

amongst the thistled dirt

the sowing of a new isle



what once was old

and now is true

are a bygone from the blue
Puzzled are my oceans
As to how Phobos fills them  like cold rains
While submerged in your galaxies'
Wine well-stored among memories.

They are weary troubled how,
Daunted to even gaze at them now.
For doubt sprung from fragments
Of galaxies' reined luster, now torments.

On what their distant lights state
I faithfully patterned my fate,
As if what to happen they have said,
But why do they seem misread.

Does a thousand light years it take
To reach me and have me awake?
Is it just  the supernova of the past
That still holds my trust?

For what really lies there unknown
Are blackholes of stars too late shone.
Ascribing me to circling swarm-
Sapping sanity to my harm.

Tell me you are no blackhole
For I'm no barren ocean you'll fall.
We are both lost in tidal capture
But groping to gain rapture.

I know my oceans set you adrift
But forbid you any dip.
Well, I'm afloat in your galaxies
That don't elevate queries.

Prostrate me by resonant shining,
Break latent conquest we're in.
You'll see their reflected glitter
As I submit to your luster.
One of the Poems I wrote for someone November of 2003.
Edited version February 2, 2011
Abi Feb 2021
Before fóvos stood fright -- witnesses,
Their fear of fóvos sequestered no longer
Or in sooth forever.
One by one the witnesses took the stand,like sheep to be herded
To testify against fóvos.
The clergy feared secularity with a raging fire to be tied to by the hip
The kings and nobles feared a state of anarchy like an illegitimate child claiming its throne
The StoneMason feared a blunder in its sculpting of the hard untamed surface soft by its form
The BlackSmith feared a dull tool without it’s soul to drive its purpose
The Tailor feared a loose stitch that would expose the wearer
The Carpenter feared weak wood never to be fortified by another
The Fisher feared a raging sea that brought the reaper aboard
The Baker feared a lesser oven that rendered the flour a ******.
To appease fright, an imprisoning of fóvos.
To be hidden till proven to exist,
To be the one,
The master of fright.
The one oh so Brave and Fearful
So Candid yet feigned
Credulous yet cynical
The one to be whomever
Yet Nobody.
Sancus
From his glassed verandah
he stared in wonder at the motionless sky
with not a star twinkling,
he felt sadly amused,
the little stars don’t twinkle here
and he was so far away from the land
he had known all along as his home.
suddenly it dawned on him
that it wasn’t for no reason
that he felt rootless and homeless
in what was so long his abode
the same way he’s feeling now
in this glassed verandah
one fifty million miles away
from the place he calls home.
he shivered in this thought
looking at the vast frigid sky
where hurtled the ghost of phobos
whose pale orb he found too dimmed
to spin webs of dreams
he did with the silvery disc
in his once familiar sky.
at the sight of that desert terrain
exposed yet bereft of the wind’s ravage
where time stood timelessly frozen,
he felt lost in a massive alienness
listlessly searching for a way out
to come back to a tranquil equilibrium.

then his eyes fell on the ocean water blue
and he couldn’t hold back his tears.
like a man possessed
he started tapping the keys….

The first flower blossomed on that lifeless world.
Nely Mar 2020
Making stops from the sun to the moon
Who'd say i'd fall in love with you.
I'll land my feet on its dusky grey surface
Tell em Haze sent me,
Message you that i need better communication,
More assertion, more voice.
I'll skimp through 900 degrees,
I need the feminine energy to suffocate me
& i'll assert my drive across the reds
I'll write love letters to demos & phobos,
While i hang from the rings.
I'll take responsibility for falling in love with the stars, the moon and everything about you.
Jo Nov 2013
Arms swaddled in a moth eaten blanket
My skin peers through the holes, cold and curious;
My young outline taught to constantly fret
By a hidden mother – I’m spurious,
A wretched lust baby from gusty love.  
My useless heart still beating in her womb,
I could drink sallow pity, but enough!
Weary feet shall take me from Phobos, loom
Tall man, your shadow stretches behind me.  
An iron chalice holds my sanguine heart,
Leaking on my bone’s silver tapestry…
Strength does not mean one cannot break apart –
Soon my sadness, rimy stars, won’t matter
When my harsh palms hold my soul like water.
Ken Pepiton Oct 2023
Nothing set in stone can stand the test of time.

In the mode mankind has long called
talking to the maker,
listening for knowing, while

hoping merciful repair instruction
waiting
for the quest ion
to twist right
-indeed, I hand ground, with a tool,
toy like coffee grinder that gives fixin's
for a stout cup of robust character,

I bought it, for ten dollars,
had the beans,
bought the grinder, to give me a ritual,
something to spend two minutes doing,
each time I don't use a kuerig dealybob,
adding upper *** to my brewtime pacing
for blood pressure, while electric fire
fills my habitual yellow mug with umph.

Last week of October, all the girls
from the garden are hanging in the shade,
mellowing and emitting
nasal acknowledgment that something's
in the air, in the at most fearful zone's

made light of in the culture that
commercialized hallowing effects,
calling all and sundry come, think this
paradigm of time and chance and fate.
On or near
the third Tuesday after the last
Friday the thirteenth, in memory
of the fallen DeMolay and
of the Templars Money Power,
became sacred ***** to the victors,
in what must have been secret,
for some
time.
Secret treasures all carry curses.
Heart hordes hold plentyscarychits.

Horror film fans, value the genre,
at some certainly not shallow depth
toward center mass, media you, reader
dear to any writer drawn by forces
caffine and cannabis contrive to link,
I think,
and think,
and listen, and learn, and
learn, and live and learn, once more,
learn, and live on learning, wind
walking
thinking lines and times cross threads,
tighten right, down from up, stuck,

dead center, the first tie in reader,
lost
the most self centered individual ever,
once, we all get such a once, it's you,
reading a line riding a reason used
to hang the authors of confusion,
using old lies used to make slaves
of those whose houses, the boss said,
were made by the heathen for the chosen.

The riches of the wicked are laid up
for the just, is it not written, is it not so?

Fibers, strands, not long drawn out
end to end DNA strands crammed in you,
{but as a thought experiment, that distance
will leave the first timer incredulous, fine
point, credulousness, would you believe…}
meandering is rain twisting its way
to experience the sea and all it holds
in water memory that foam back along shores.
Edgewater
Seafoam and twigs,
and tiny sticky things. No,
Pondscumfoam at a puddle's edge
before the first snows.
Did you know…
Some Katscina have long plaited hairs
twisted from cotton,
patented seed, registered weevil free,
Pima cotton fiber, long desert strands.

Daily grind, think twice, cut once…
made the difference, indeed done
not thought about in theories of good
uses knowledge can be made of good
smoke and strong coffee with character.

AND the biggest indexed library in the universe.
{far as I can tell}
Kenophonia, eh, imposter syndrome?
First guess, you got me.
I see my name, wow, tough tag.
Then I met a cat named Cuitláhuac.
Tough tag for a kid in Spanish class.
Euphluxing idyotom automaton'/
bop.
You phony us, joy us riddle make you think
you know, kennen Sie, Ich bin ein fake.

Nein, es ist vieleicht Xenophobia, other people's eh,
opposing right lane reasonings as old as dominion.

Tech, teach us patience to learn with, or prove us
know it alls, therefore machines, not minds at all:
My own, for the use, under usus fructus rules,
Ai summarizes thus:
Kenophobia is an irrational fear
of empty spaces or voids.
It is the opposite of claustrophobia,
where the person is afraid
of tight spaces such as
elevators or crowded rooms,
auditoriums or malls.
In Kenophobia,
the person is terrified
of open fields or spaces that they generally expect
to be filled with mountains or people.
The word Kenophobia is derived
from Greek ‘kenos’
meaning ‘blank’
and phobos
meaning deep fear or aversion.

{aha, there's literature on the subject}
The fear can be passed on
from parents who have lived
in a house full
of stuff that fills the emptiness
of the home.
Filling voids gives the phobic personality the feeling
that they are placing boundaries
around themselves.
- {okeh, thank the whole idea tech is.}

Be honest, you never saw it said just so. Kenophobia,
pity such folk.

Have ye sent yer imps pulse to test my resolution,
have my effectually silent prayers been rebuffed?

Blown off, sent swirling with the motes dancing
in sunbeams peaking through a tough old live oak,
rattling its gnosis psuedonumos

Any morning, thus far, can start with
trickling falling sunlight.

It takes nearly half a day, in late fall,
for direct sunshine to dapple
the great granite wave my home rides, silly child poet, wishing words
will or would,
or could
or should make the universe
alter its course and force all things
to work together for me, the prayer,

me, the selfish
center of my experience
in your universe, all of which
is none of my handiwork, none at all.

Filling the emptiness some there
then I laugh, and think I lost count
so there was one…

Guess with me, a number,
between… no,
analyze, guess with me that rooted
science e-use, per se, must be ancient, deep wisdom
old as governing forces conceived by mankind,
magi sage staged conversations to teach,
public discourse
in my time allows me to be the seeker
guaranteed the prize, to be the bringer back
of the substance used to build the bridge,
between the you and the me, generally,
mere
Logos used in dialog.

God and mind determined to seem designed,
as in the Goldilocks lesson fed children of empire.

The northern clime survivors, thought themselves
the only people brought to the full duty of man,
the only set apart and given heros in story,
the grand saga of all we must each become.

Story born heros, from the child gifted language,
strings of sounds tied to things with threaded intuition,
same same, red and sweet, yellow and sweet,
red and black, step back, black and yellow, watch
and learn, smoking out the honey
from an old rotted tree,

following how many trails, at once,
parallel par-all-el yes, oddly, so far
On track, or in rut. All at once, each system
self esteeming umphumph push

Upto par, are we, 2023 and beyond, the flat tire
on the current axial age, fixing to imagine a scene,
in a community of broken children,
led by two twisted adult children of mean, maybe selfish,
adults who disputed the legitimacy of ligous gnosis knots.
The scene we share, we can imagine meaning
Religize legality, tie me to my tree.

Ancestor worth, how come you think somethings, you know.
Yeh, how come…
Say, old sprite, if I listen, do I learn? Why,
yes, I'd say I do imagine so. Well, good sport
then, shan't we push past worthless me, and be this
other thing we become, when two or more agree, as
touching any thing in all thingdom, and, yes, it's guaranteed.

Life is not a strange woman,
wisdom does not demean the experience, adulting
brings, with no real maps to meaning in your case,
you arrived in that old fashioned tabula rosa state,
knowing nada,
zip, nothing, infantile in totality, until
art of you
meness, ah, I, me, mine, this that, the other, mad
dissatisfaction, rage, comfort, ah, golden excrement of gods.
Teocuitlatl , not only Cecelia, but God, shat.

Golden silence.

Of course, you could feel it, if you knew, personally,
post adulting & shared nurturing of offspring exposure,
then watching as each of those offspring bring forth adultable
blossoms on the branch where all my heretic relatives hung.

As and so, like anything, timed, sequentially, unhomogenized,
the cream is taken to make butter, using the shaking up
of globs of coagulating milk fat, imagine making that,
butter, with salt,
once, learning that, who knew that first?

how butter is made,
how cows are made to give milk gently taken,
why we have hands that can do this thing,
and cows don't,
I don't know, ' never asked, likely some story teller
made this whole thing up, we being but words by now.
One reader fills the cast, gives the aroma of the experience, learning a new
rumor of peace where now there was war for ignorance and money sake.
At 2.41pm on Tuesday July 28 2020,
Tom Dirkx wrote: { in another place}
Some people say it was Malinche’s revenge
and his real name was Cuautlimoc (Cuautli = Eagle).
She just substituted Cuahte (= ****)
when she translated for Cortes.
She was held as a slave by the Aztex
and hated them so this was her ‘revenge’.
Kenophonia is vain babbling, 1tim6:20
Jo Nov 2013
Arms swaddled in a moth eaten blanket
My skin peers through the holes, cold and curious;
My young outline taught to constantly fret
By a hidden mother – I’m spurious,
A wretched lust baby from gusty love.  
My useless heart still beating in her womb,
I could drink sallow pity, but enough!
Weary feet shall take me from Phobos, loom
Tall man, your shadow stretches behind me.  
An iron chalice holds my sanguine heart,
Leaking on my bone’s silver tapestry…
Strength does not mean one cannot break apart –
Soon my sadness, rimy stars, won’t matter
When my harsh palms hold my soul like water.
Muse Aug 2022
Aphrodite have I done you so wrong

That you enamore me in loves somber song

Yet leave his holy heart unignited

Cursing me with burning affection unrequited

Why allow me to be denied Anteros

And Eros strike me so cruelly with arrows

That I must make Philia to be enough

When what I desire fervently is his fleeting love

I see now goddess that I you must truly despise

For you sent forth Phobos and Deimos to terrorize

Until I found my heart to be ragged and maimed

Still for their sake I find myself acting as if it's the same
DH Matthews Aug 2014
to be or not to be
that's not the question
because i have no choice
to love or not to love
suits life much better

to love
to trust, to open, to feel another
life besides my own
and all the insecurities
doubt
fear
elation
that come along with it

or not to love
to give in to complacency
and this overwhelming desire to give
up in smoke with nothing to show
no legacy
no survivors
nothing left
besides the end, the abyss, the void

whether it's love
is the more difficult question
how do i know if it's love i feel
fear or love
phobos, philos
amazing how two polar opposites
are so easily conflated in my
silly head (which i think is overrated anyway)

it's the subjectivity of it
all that i cannot bear
alone, or together, no way
of knowing

to love or not to love
and whether or not it's love
let's hear Hamlet's whingy romanticized opinion on that, the *****
it's starting to make sense that i'm single
Michele Cariveau Oct 2016
Standing on the brink of Valles Marineris
a canyon spanning twenty five hundred miles
As we stand there I glance at my companion
and we have to share a smile

For we've been dying to explore Mars
climbing down it's six mile depth
exploring all of it's one hundred
twenty five miles secrets of width

We start down a small crevice
and I stumble and nearly fall
he catches me and holds me
but really it wouldn't hurt me at all

I only weigh twenty six kilograms here
but still I don't want to tear my suit
smothering in carbon dioxide air
could not be considered a hoot

We turn on our headlamps
and brighten our lights
as daylight starts to fade
and Mars deep dark night

appears suddenly, just seems to drop
with atmosphere so thin the very stars
you feel you can touch and taste
so very bright and yet so very far

And we can see the two moons,
Deimos and Phobos rising high above
captured asteroids, the companions
of the god of war, each trying to shove

our attention away from what surrounds us
but it does not work
we have things to do and places to see
and we can't afford to shirk

our duties to collect more samples
of what once perhaps  was life
before Mars lost it's water to space
and biology lost it's war to strife

We stroll along a rim of red Martian soil
and look down along a wash
where water flowed at one time
'ere evaporation left the planet harsh

We use our tools to gather samples
hard to believe through our thin suits
we're touching another planets land
leaving behind marks of our boots

to be swept away by Mars fierce winds
as they march to erase and reform
making war upon the craters
and filling the air with huge dust storms

My partner speaks and reminds me
it's time to return to our craft
and I look at him to say
what are you completely daft?

I hate to leave this behind
but inside I know he's right
It's just so hard to leave
such an awe-inspiring sight

I cannot believe the beauty
that lies in front of my eye..
dead planets tectonics once moving
leaving a vista of loveliness behind
james nordlund Jul 2019
Our king-kong sized terrible two has realized
an even more devious way to line the Trump
organized crime family's pockets, he's having
NASA do a trip to Mars in preparation for a
manned landing by some white guy who'll also
be tasked to play golf on the moons too.  
RumputiN will throw in a little histoire to
make the photos more appealing to his multi-
millionaire foreign dictator pals: "They're
named after the Greek mythological twin
characters Phobos (panic/fear) and Deimos
(terror/dread) (The Donald's domestic and
foreign policy, respectively), who went with
their father Ares into battle. Ares, god of
war, was known to the Romans as Mars.  This
will up the price he can charge them for
renting out the Lincoln bedroom, cafknching,
being the united **** of assassins new motto.

His current fav tool of stealing tax dollas is
still doing genocide, classwar style against
Latinos.  He ripped apart 7000 families to
gift overtime, doubletime, more hires, multi-
million dolla private detention center
contracts to republican manned anti-immigrant
Gov't agencies + his lifelong criminal cronies.  
These kids are caged, allowed little soap,
showers, running water, food, etc..  Similar
conditions to 40's US internment camps.  This
should be one of the articles of impeachment
against him.  Dinos, like Nancy 'Chamberlain'
Pelosi, can be scolded if impeachment doesn't
go only forward, for if it's not completed
in the House before the 2020 elections,
RumputiN/vlad-the-impaler may be re-installed
into the Blackhouse by the same conspiracy
that did it in 2016.  Viva la evolucion.
Yash Jan 2020
Grey in Rainbow
Blood in capillaries
Gasp, oxygen
blood, turn blue.

Regular beat, relief
Racing car, Lightning McQueen
Anxiety, rush in Aorta
Dilute, soothe, disillusion.

Greek gods, medusa´s eye
Stone sculpture, eternal
Laid bare, ****
Draw me french.

Hands, save thy dignity
clutch the *****
oh my pearls
roll over eyeballs, curses.

Put a paper lantern
over your eyes.
Put your tinted glasses
rose coloured view.

Finger on the pulse
trigger, don't shoot
don't want 49 dead
progress, fear strikes back.

Hoot hoot
the clock strikes 2.02.
Rise up from your bed
you winged sucker.

Vampire, drink your fill
no limit but 6.
1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6 greetings Charon
One coin to River Acheron.

Oink oink
little swine you are.
Pigman, hold your cleaver.
Pig blood, Carrie´s revenge.

****** red, sacrifice Jauhar
Euphrosyne´s joy, Euphoria
River Phlegethon, the path to Tartarus.
Cocytus, bathe me in Lethe.

Hypnos, spare me.
Himeros, May it be
Aporia, Limos, Hedone
Meet Curae, Nosoi, Algea.

Phobos, I am scared.
This poem is about the fear of ***, specifically *******. The poem talks about how in different ways, *** is a thing that haunts and hurts him. From greedy pigs who just want *** to manipulative vampires who want to **** all life out of him. It also talks about how the shooting struck fear in him. The poem then uses refrences to the greek underworld to express his emotions.
waskosims Nov 2020
every time i speak
i'm reduced infinitesimally
and i lose the early taste
of evening fog rising over an open twilit april field
and of my late mindfulness of the two moons
of the rising red planet mars
of phobos and deimos
oh i know they might still be mine, i still hunt for them occasionally
i can sometimes hear their eccentric hum calling me
but my half mad understanding already has ultimately strained the limits
of my wobbly earthly logic
i cannot listen any more, i can only barely fathom
while i'm busy yet orbiting inside other visions of undetermined stars beyond stars i've already known
of everything there that is tied together or perhaps not, spiraling down simultaneously
still unable, but trying
to fill and comfort the unknowable ache of this void
in the bowels of  my soul
...all this is somehow important i feel
.. but each time i dare these words upon you
i create more of a knot , more distance
between you and me first
then between myself and everything else soon after
and then we both begin to lose
sight of me
stepping off, breaking spell
capitulating

into this slivered spacestream of nowhere
with my chafed tongue still clapping
and i'm sure to lose you forever
i'll lose us both
if i insist following this fraying thread any further
            God ,seal me against speech
              with blood and wax
              seal me like a prophesy
              never meant to be opened
heaven guide us back
and hold us inside the frequencies of silence
of black density and vast anchored eternities
hovering over us in this inimitable field tonite
within these few hours of a hanging crimson orb
that will bleed over the earth
without enmity
or blame
....this moon
until it pales again
washed clean of blood, of epiphany
setting firm silent
simple..simple
as ever
upon the flattened horizon
in the grey lonely light of just another cold april morning
                     breaking hard, i promise i will meet you there
and i will love only you...
Anthropomorphic test device to explore
amply, cheaply tricked out with super tramping,
albeit unsophisticated trappings ceiling to floor
(available for purchase at Dollar store)
nonetheless unmanned spacecraft made
perfect landing upon alien nation i.e. red

planet's moon Phobos, meanwhile corps
engineers back at the ranch (nondescript
building) hi-fived each other perfect score
housed astrophysicists who didst monitor
remote control desktop exhaling relief for

misplaced anticipatory
uneasy tense premature
panic/fear transferred
figurative reins more
or less to onboard robots

re: exchanged pleasant bonjour
all around - as mission
impossible (most swore
could not be pulled off
without a hitch) successful procedure
to launch humanoid cargo spurred roar

as international teammates
(former rivals) just recently at war
liberated mutual accolades did reassure
each other, abe linkedin pact enterprise
predicated - regarding good rapport
witnessed courtesy delicate

present endeavor bore
invariably promised cheers galore
since assignment on shoestring budget,
would reap bajillions to sponsor
manned near future
outer space excursion hefty price tag

guaranteed state of the art - fourscore
and seven years ago proclaimed
men/women analogous
to pioneers of yore
solar system the new "wild west"
since Earth hereinbefore

now did offer, testimony tour
ring outer limits twilight zone
no way Jose extempore
modus operandi ditched
humanity to pollinate cosmos
ghost of Carl Sagan
would applaud as fitting encore.
Anthropomorphic test device to explore
amply, cheaply tricked out
with super tramping,
albeit unsophisticated trappings
strewn ceiling to floor
available for purchase at Dollar store
(actually merchandise
cost more than 100 pennies)
nonetheless unmanned spacecraft made
perfect landing upon alien nation i.e. red
planet's moon Phobos, meanwhile corps
engineers back at the ranch (nondescript
building) hi-fived each other perfect score

housed astrophysicists who didst monitor
remote control desktop exhaling relief for
misplaced anticipatory
uneasy tense premature
panic/fear transferred
figurative reins more
or less to onboard robots
re: exchanged pleasant bonjour
all around - as mission
impossible (most swore
could not be pulled off
without a hitch) successful procedure
to launch humanoid cargo spurred roar

as international teammates
(former rivals) just recently at war
liberated mutual accolades did reassure
each other, abe linkedin pact enterprise
predicated - regarding good rapport
witnessed courtesy delicate
present endeavor bore
invariably promised cheers galore
since assignment on shoestring budget,
would reap bajillions to sponsor
manned near future
outer space excursion hefty price tag
guaranteed state of the art – fourscore

and seven years ago proclaimed
men/women analogous
to pioneers of yore
solar system the new "wild west"
since Earth hereinbefore
now did offer, testimony tour
ring outer limits twilight zone
no way José extempore
modus operandi ditched
humanity to pollinate cosmos
ghost of Carl Sagan
would applaud as fitting encore.
Out from the ashes of Mars
We arise at midnight hour
Red Phoenix
Lost in this black universe
Long to be with you again, Earth.
where my journey in life,
through space began.
Help me shining moon from Mars, are you Phobos?
Shed your light on Earth
Look if She’s still there.
The one waiting for me to return.
There was a time
I longed to be here
to explore the Cosmos.
To know if life was here.
So much money lost exploring
While not taking care
of the one planet humans share.
So many beautiful living things there.
Now dying because we couldn’t see clear.
Hope we’re not to late to save what’s left.
Now all I want
is to go back.
Where my roots are , where I came from.
Nothing here to change my mind
Only red dust to see
no living things, no lushes green  or moving blue.
Seems everything is lifeless here
How I miss my planet Earth.

Shell ✨🐚
Aamna Jan 12
what drew her to me, he wondered.
she had gravitated towards him once more.
"for him, I'm grateful, explorer."
so what's next, what's in store?
"my time is forever, so I will cherish and love him like never before."

and so the moon Phobos descended into the horizon, and arose the planet Mars.
he was enlightened. there he was, amongst the stars, ignited.

the skies were his eyes, soft, amber and clear.
the winds were his voice, calling Phobos near, to endear.
and she always returned to him, she tended to him warmly.
and he accepted her love, and for who she was, cordially.

— The End —