"spacesuit" poems
He pulled and parked the supply red wagon,
then climbed the mast to the captain's cabin.
Captain Red is ready for adventure.
A quest to collect the world's best treasure.
His pirate crew is renowned far and wide.
They're rough and tough and they don't ever cry.
But none of them boys has the captain's stuff.
So don't mess with him, man, cause he don't bluff.
This motley crew has achieved many feats,
has never suffered a single defeat,
and has seen the most incredible things:
whales, whirlpools, storms, mermaids, krakens and kings.
"Set sail," squaws the boss as he munches lunch
and the Ocean Destroyer leaves port Wunche.
These rolling green hills are now ocean waves.
That blue sky, however, remains the same.
...
"Hey Benjamin!" beams the first mate Susanne.
Impeding the journey that just began.
"We already played this game. It's my turn!"
The first mate trumps the captain, Ben will learn.
...
Her spacesuit crew is renowned far and wide.
They're smart and nice and they don't ever lie.
But none of these girls has commander's stuff.
So don't mess with her, girl, cause she don't bluff.
This brainy crew has achieved many feats,
has never suffered a single defeat,
and has seen the most incredible things:
aliens, black holes, stars, and martian springs.
"Lift off!" beams the boss as she munches lunch
and the Star Chasing Rocket leaves base Wunche.
These rural backyards are now rocky space.
That blue sky, however, remains the same.
...
"Hey Susanne!" beams the pilot Benjamin.
Impeding the flight before it begins.
"We already played this game. It's my turn!"
The pilot trumps commander, Sue will learn.
...
Boys and girls grow up and out the front door.
Those children’s games evolve to adult chores;
those kiddy lawns to grandparent’s domain.
That blue sky, however, remains the same.
Jul 23, 2018
Jul 23, 2018 at 5:58 PM UTC
We love to chase the wind through streaks of blinding bliss,
Tagging the glorious ideals of love, peace, friendship, even
The meaning of life, to weeping willows and pensive pebbles.
We admire the monochrome sky in all its barren blue or pregnant purple;
Hues of burple and plue are dismissed as being tedious, or just confused.
Fear not, photoshop will rectify this pigmented aberration.
We giggle at clouds that resemble kitchen utensils or mystical creatures;
“Hey look a teddy bear in a spacesuit with a flowerpot on his head wielding the Sword of Gryffindor!”
We declare sagely, with the acumen of a legendary bird watcher.
We resurrect grass angels by launching into horizontal jumping-jacks, and,
Just as a disclaimer, no flower was harmed in the process. Not that it matters,
As long as we did not soil our Lacoste and Burberry.
We spin a mixtape out of the torrential downpour, our tracks pitting
The pitter of regularity against the patter of inconstancy, synchronizing
The symphony of splashes to an undercurrent of nostalgia.
We kiss against the bark of an elm, and if a tree is not available in the vicinity,
We throw ourselves down a nearby hill, tumbling into a ball of moist romance,
Panting, as we bask in the studio lighting of the approving sun.
Every still is captured by a Lomo,
Every scene arrested in sepia motion,
Every moment ravished by the chichi Bohemian in us.
Nov 2, 2010
Nov 2, 2010 at 4:03 PM UTC
You named the sky reflected in a
dream, named it a wonder storm.
Spacesuit with a crown glow, with whom I
take turns trying to drown in an inch of water,
with whom I paint pictures of Aztecan gods -
Hold me again like I am a lizard! You
named it mudslide, named it river delta,
named it ************ you named it art.
Call it coyote blue.
Hundreds of canine headed figures
at the window of
seventh dream from spontaneous combustion
hold open their jaws and whine.
Mar 30, 2016
Mar 30, 2016 at 11:28 AM UTC
I feel like an astronaut in a spacesuit
will i ever even suit space?
i find myself looking for a base root
will i ever find the root base?
i see it all on a widescreen
i see tragedy and torment screen wide
i can tell you it makes my ride mean
**** it's such a mean ride
seems like hatred is widespread
even with my arms spread wide
i find it so hard to hide dread
i just can't make my dread hide
Nov 28, 2013
Nov 28, 2013 at 12:25 PM UTC
"There are fixed points through time where things must always stay the way they are." - The Doctor in "Cold Blood" (2010)
"You're my fixed point."
She claims, face hidden
by geography and hands
that cover tear-brimmed eyes
like a spacesuit.
All self-contained and protected.
All exoskeleton and isolation.
Jan 12, 2013
Jan 12, 2013 at 1:15 PM UTC
done turned like the radio dial -
zig zag in its artsy ness on
the afghan blankets, on the
bench seat old tahoe. never have
i ever ****** the gym owner in my
over achiever bally sports bra / or
i lie all the time.
and, like,
you could be the pink alien in tassled chaps
or the singer/poet.
dialed the pizza place and hung up,
dialed the congressman and hung up,
embarrassed -
without a trick to pull out of your
ultracool spacesuit.
Feb 26, 2015
Feb 26, 2015 at 9:02 AM UTC
see, astronauts need a certain amount
of pressure
surrounding their space suit
else their body boils
and this is exactly what it feels like at 2:34 in the afternoon when i am too sad to pass my mathematics exam but too anxious to fail it, this is exactly what it feels like when i have gone too long without talking to you because for some reason my brain is always conducting experiments on itself. i mean i am superheating in here, its all just so noisy and so silent at the same time, i mean, this morning i woke up to eat/dont eat and get out of bed/why are you still here and when im around you and when you touch me, i forget when i was so upset about and
i was always told not to rely on another person for my happiness but you are the spacesuit applying just enough pressure from outside so the insides of me stayed safe and warm instead of constantly ready to blow a fuse
you calm me, you are my centre and my gravity. and i sorry thats asking for so much.
Feb 15, 2015
Feb 15, 2015 at 7:42 PM UTC
I want to walk
in deep space,
pull your tether
& play bumper cars
with you
under the stars
before the sun rises.
I want to engage in
manual manipulation
with you,
spin G's around the moon
& whistle rocket man tunes
while knocking your
sweet spacesuit boots.
I want to experience reentry
with you,
float on triple parachutes
& blast-off
again & again
onto your soft pad.
Apr 23, 2014
Apr 23, 2014 at 4:53 AM UTC
Love
Minus blood
Flood
Minus water
Touch
Minus hands
Words
Minus Meaning
Astronaut
Minus spacesuit
Treasure
Minus loot
Welcome to the helm
Of your own spirit vehicle
Welcome to the realm
Of questionable miracles
Welcome to the future
Welcome to bardo, baby
Nov 19, 2011
Nov 19, 2011 at 7:11 PM UTC
it is dark inside the moon.
the moon tastes like candlewax
and cold sweat.
you cannot be beautiful on the moon -
the earth will not allow it.
that is why,
if i should ever slip into a spacesuit
and you should ever kiss my helmet goodbye,
i will not think of you.
i will think of the earth
and break out in a cold sweat.
Jul 5, 2011
Jul 5, 2011 at 6:05 AM UTC
the girl in the spacesuit,
she haunts my dreams.
my ever-deepening thoughts are
building homes on the vacant plot of grass
that is my mind.
the girl in the spacesuit whispers her warnings
she tells me i am dying.
shows me photographs of the black
that i am riding gallantly towards.
on the back of a black horse.
the smoke is the only thing under the sun,
that will put her to sleep.
she keeps screaming to determine,
just how far her voice will carry.
or perhaps she is screaming
to someone on the shore.
begging them to relieve her of constant
seasickness.
because the girl in the spacesuit
is leagues and leagues under the sea.
trying to untie the recurring knot.
she is obscure, yet familiar
she plagues my mortal brain.
one dark evening
her face ascended from the skylight
of a crowded ballroom.
**** you and
you.
**** that glass room under the sea.
**** the day that they told me,
the girl in the spacesuit was me.
Jul 2, 2011
Jul 2, 2011 at 2:32 PM UTC
The star studded visor made ticks of the distant suns.
Each one like a cell of silence, creeping in to his spacesuit like paranoid cockroaches.
The still hum of static faded in and out as the parallel current pulled him.
He drifted slowly through the abyss.
Sunlight in the far called memories of bright eyes.
"I could kiss the sun, melt away into the universe."
Her fingertips were warm in a cosmic dream.
"Or we could kiss the moon together, and get lost in the sound."
He felt so foolish now, the only sound was a racing pulse.
Here in his safety net,
Here he was trapped with that sound.
Beating heart in a jar,
The sound of breath,
His voice.
And a mental tempest swelled with each breath,
How many more till he suffocated in black.
In pitch black mute.
And thoughts like these cause riots in his chest.
His heart like automatic warfire.
Pulsing louder than the silence in the suit,
Beating harder then the stars on his visor,
And it was the silence that broke his walls.
That broke down his silent hills with silent screams.
He saw himself, his face red and fogging a glossy mask.
Bleeding through his intestines, spewing into his esophagus,
Vomiting empty sound.
And from outside he saw a sad man wasting his breath on useless burdens.
But the madness, the beautiful,
The grandiose silence.
The gentle finger of space pushing down on his brain,
So slowly, but so sure of its intentions.
So he screamed until he could only squeak,
Until his tears were as good as warm skin.
Until a raspy squeak was a meager whimper.
And so the astronaut,
And so his memories,
And so they were all lost.
The playful twines of silent nights were truly vicious.
As he cried, alone at last.
He found silence not in a whimper, But a bang.
-P.S.
Jun 12, 2013
Jun 12, 2013 at 10:12 AM UTC
I could drown in your kiss.
But maybe drown is the wrong word.
The word “drown” makes my lungs feel constricted.
It makes my skin feel pressured.
It kicks in my survival instincts.
I could live in your kiss.
It is like breathing, but better.
It is like I am floating aimlessly in space and your lips are my spacesuit,
sustaining my life for another orbit.
Your hands grab my hips and pull them closer to you.
I want to gasp but my mouth is preoccupied,
as you can tell.
I am lost in your body, in your tongue, in your hands.
I am never to be found.
This is what it feels like after one drowns.
A beautiful abyss.
Jul 25, 2012
Jul 25, 2012 at 8:09 PM UTC
Sapphire eyes descending my torso
Have I a head, or is there just more so?
That you require upon evaluation
Leading me on orbiting space station
Had no idea, this alien encounter of ours
One of affection; should have brought flowers
Am I your mate-ling, here for devours?
Crystalline follicles free flowing hair
You meet me in spacesuit whilst I am bare
This really be not most fair advantage
Your briefings seemingly micromanage
Intergalactic trans-species inseminations
Are forbidden by Rules of Constellular Nations
Yet admitting magnet-ting emitting vibrations
Super charged particles pucker your orifice
It is enticing this boudoir you have by Uranus
The décor is all slippery, wet and inviting
I must admit to you, it all very ionic exciting
Are we to agree to be astral *** players?
When shall I see what lie beneath foiled layers?
Drop your robes please, I am with no nay-sayers
I travel alone, as Lone Space Ranger
This proposition to me I find intrigued danger
A plus and a minus electric storm lingers
Exceedingly long seem your definitive fingers
Polarities, rarities amongst planetoid creatures
Though I’m quite digging your extended features
I’m glad we’re alone to be each others teachers
May 28, 2016
May 28, 2016 at 1:39 PM UTC
A pre-dancer would be carved out of me in vain by the faded, sloppy World: a jerky cord! A flattered prophet and a witty eccentric, I would rather never bargain with his selfish laws if they sounded! Let the rebels breathe without me! In the open, many times I still feel bribed by my dreaded fear! As a startled little boy, I am already ashamed to go among the people who keep promising! As a disillusioned light, I would look for my prosperity, who if thrown out the door isn’t sure it will climb back out the window yet!
The insidious eyeball of blindfolders flashes like a loot and strikes every second; double handshake often turns into strife when there is no Eris nearby! - I ***** in the ambiguous obscurity as a stray dog and I have to beg for the pondros that have taken on human faces: "It would be good to gain experience and expertise as a friendly favor!" "One fateful day, I will eagerly be my own destiny and a compromised accomplice with a terrible organization!" The world is already facing slow motion warping; I would wait awkwardly for the right moment so that the flame of the Universe minutes could wink at me again!
As an unwanted payer, can the captivity of elevator shafts be left to mine alone?! Incompetent weakness surprises him by surprise; no one cares about my cared limbs! Silent, konok interest strains me and recreates my imagined dreams every day! I enter the crater of unknown moon courts in a spacesuit body and I can no longer bother that my worn shoes will smell at most! Soft intrigue, konok closure is gradually following me! Even now, as an adult, I imagine my precious Time to be spent with my loved ones!
The camp of the disabled did not help to find new opportunities! - Wandering mortals thrive selfishly into the gaping cavities of piles!
Mar 13, 2021
Mar 13, 2021 at 2:20 AM UTC
*daydreams
to me it seems
are the only thing
in which i dream
they bubble up
and take their leave
catching thoughtful waves
by any means
they shoot across
the galaxies
from oceans vast
sea to shinning sea
finding pieces
that they need
to continue on
in their day dreams
from future ventures
to playful pasts
don the spacesuit
raise the mast
take the day
from overcast
bright sunshine
where'er i'm at
with daydreams
i tag along
close my eyes
and i am gone
with these dreams
i'm always on
i've found out
there's no plateau*
Sep 3, 2016
Sep 3, 2016 at 8:04 AM UTC
If this is my last resort, why are you opening so many doors?
Why are you still reaching out to me?
Lost doesn’t even begin to describe it
We’re stuck in a glass maze
Everywhere I look, I can see you,
But all I can touch is cold, and I leave fingerprints behind
You told me to be the storm, forthcoming
Just a warning, I’m coming for you
Because you left without me and you’re so ******* far
Please
You crashed into me in ways I did not give you permission to
Oh, sweet combustion
I am not a mechanic and you did not try to save me
Girl is a catastrophe, but my God is she still kicking
I’ve lost my footing, I still can’t reach your hand
You’ve taught me that I need to love someone enough to forgive them
I need to walk away with a broken heart and not apologize
But I can’t find common ground
Please rope me into the stars you promised
Show me the angels that fell and left you in their wake
Patch my spacesuit before I bleed infinity and really mean it this time
I’m sorry I’m apologizing again, but you deserve it
I wasn’t listening when you told me not to let go of the tether
I was reaching for the atmosphere
I forgot what fresh air tastes like
Please take me home, now.
Dec 8, 2018
Dec 8, 2018 at 8:22 PM UTC
We’re all going to die on this Earth
Might live to 109
Or die this morning
Headed to work
Instantly
No pain
In your sleep
Gunshot to stomach
Pain for days
Far corner of the world
Or down the street from your childhood
Doesn’t matter
Still on this Earth
Death will come for you
Unless you’re an astronaut
And you’re on a spacewalk
Out there amongst the stars
And your tether becomes tangled
Then ....
Snip
Your line cuts. ...... ... ........ . .....
And you’re adrift
Dead within 30 minutes
No oxygen
Out in space
Drifting
But at least you didn’t die on earth
And they’ll break ground on a
Primary school in your name
The president will speak
All while your skeleton
In your spacesuit
Floats past Mars...
Apr 6, 2018
Apr 6, 2018 at 7:20 AM UTC