"thrusters" poems
Malignant gazes warped the
the fabric of the air around me.
I couldn't do anything but tell
her that to wish upon a dying star
will never end well.
The atrocity that clung to the ships
hull, was no less human now than
the artificial meat 3d printed..
It taste liked chicken,
but..
there were no eggs in space.
Words like plasma cannons fired
around me bouncing off the walls.
Ok, ok listen I didn't do this to you!
Your the penny that could pay the price,
and this is your tarnished self pity.
I wasn't having any of her grief,
though it could vacate me with ease.
Standing before her I said I could less
cure her than breath in space..
With that she raged in a language
of ferocious exasperation.
I knew that it was time to vacate her
need for some sort of vengeance.
I'd got the necklace on under my garments.
Pointing my pistol at her, she smirked,
then a gargled laugh spat out.
That toy cant harm me, is this your last
stand what a pointless endeavour..
Now it was my turn to smirk,
I don't know if it was panic
or confusion to why I was laughing.
like a hyena knowing that the
pray had just cornered itself.
With that I shot past her, like a
random act, I still laughed loudly.
And then a buckling ache approached.
As the hull cleaved open like a piñata
hit feverishly by an excited child.
As we where exhumed from our coffin,
suffocating in the emptiness of my actions.
I could see her fear, no matter her augmentations,
nothing could survive the vacuum of space.
I pressed upon my chest, my nanite suit
encompassing me.
I was like a new born taking a first breath
Looking at this sorrowful figure, floating
in to the abyss. I knew I was partly to blame.
But now was not the time for respective thoughts.
This was about survival, and I used the small thrusters
to edge closely to the air lock.
Time to move on, time to breath deeply.
Mar 14, 2019
Mar 14, 2019 at 7:00 PM UTC
Oh shall we play space men today
and build a rocket Ted
we need two suits some gloves and boots
and helmets for our head
A packing crate stood tall and straight
dad's funnel placed on top
three books so thin each one a fin
and Mommies broken mop
A beanbag chair we two can share
and buttons we can push
some sandwiches and light switches
and cans of Orange crush
Some dials and springs and other things
we found in daddies shed
now that looks neat so take a seat
and start the countdown Ted
We watched the stars that once so far
where now within our grip
Count ten to one ignition on
Blast off in rocket ship
The silver moon would greet us soon
as upward we both sped
through clouds of white to black of night
just me and mister Ted
The rocket turned as thrusters burned
as we altered our course
for here you see the gravity
Had very little force
We journeyed forth toward the north
by meteor and star
as comets whizzed and pinged and fizzed
and flew both near and far
We passed the plough and saw a cow
jump clean over the moon
then stations manned prepared to land
beside a giant dune
Beneath our feet a silver sheet
of fallen stars and sand
and as we two took in the view
Ted held me by the hand
The solar breeze blew round our knees
and tickled as it passed
time now to go yes Ted I know
this day has gone so fast
seated inside we watched the tide
So slowly ebb and flow
then 10 to 1 zero and gone
we raced the mornings glow
home safe and sound we kissed the ground
and ran in for our tea
I turned to Ted and softly said
the moon just winked at me
What shall we be next time said he
cowboys or maybe kings
I do not know I whispered low
let's see what morning brings
Oct 9, 2013
Oct 9, 2013 at 9:14 PM UTC
We wake to skies of groggy grey
and struggle to wipe the night from our eyes.
Rain pelts the windowpane as I burrow into you
and ask with a tongue still warped by dreams
if we can stay in today and sleep off the world like a bad hangover.
We could turn the bed into a boat
and use the day to travel the seven seas.
Our pillows could be rocket thrusters on a spaceship
trailing asteroids through the cosmic void.
We could go spelunking under the comforter
and scale mountains with the sheets.
I could try to convince you it’s just the weather,
but the truth is I just want more of you – all of you.
I want every adventure from our bed
to a jungle, to a mountain range,
to trips to the grocery store and
making pancakes in our pajamas.
So let’s sleep late and lazy and
make our bodies into puzzle pieces
because today, rain or shine, we’re playing hookey.
Jul 14, 2014
Jul 14, 2014 at 9:22 PM UTC
I look up into the deep blackness
A kind of dark that swallows your soul
Makes you question your existence
The thrusters shake the ground and scorch the earth
Inertia holds me back as the shuttle propels me forward
The feeling of weightlessness and peace
Interrupted
Engine failure
Pressure drop
Eject
Alone surrounded in the darkness
I look down at my blue home
I see the answers to my questions
A cry of regret goes unheard
Dec 14, 2016
Dec 14, 2016 at 4:54 PM UTC
Treasure is but a wanderer's lust
seeking utopia amongst the cosmic stars
it's year 2025, humanity's golden age of technology,
and a little white spaceship sets off to colonise Mars
nicknamed Nova 2, she boasts twin light-speed thrusters
polarised windscreens and a body of pure ceramite -
with a whoosh and a deafening bang
she smashes the sound barrier and streaks through the night
[#WHAM! BAM! FLASH!#]
at twenty-two hours they pass the moon
avoid a cluster of meteorite and space debris,
venturing deeper and deeper into the abyss of nothingness
their minds awestruck, their weary souls free
faced with a darkness that was un-shiftable, heavy
the danger of this mission increasingly daunting,
the longer they ignored their fears
the more the alien wilderness became haunting
what if they suddenly stopped dead
hit a snag or ran out of power?
They only had limited supplies
and the absent sun grew hotter and hotter by the hour
with the silence incessant
the sound of their own voices was obtrusive, grating,
food disgustingly vile, water going warm,
pressure steadily rising, there were concerns of the pilot fainting
--// "CALLING ELISA STARR TO THE CABIN PLEASE." //--
Elisa Starr was the cabin's dutiful cleaner
she'd clear away the astronauts ******* and occasionally mop up their sick -
for most of the crew had adapted to the lack of gravity
alas a few individuals hadn't been as quick
only 3 months in and the air had already grown stale
smelling of faint excretion and sweat,
aching and tired, she was always wiping down the interior windows
as the condensation steamed them up wet
what was the point in coming to space to slave away
when she could just do it on Earth;
once a valued member of society, a highly respectable mother of three,
surely this gruelling slavery she didn't deserve?
-//-----//-
The glowing red sphere of Mars approaches,
their destination finally (finally!) in range -
Earth was dying and this is a chance for us to start again
but isn't it already clear that we'll never change?
Sep 30, 2015
Sep 30, 2015 at 6:46 PM UTC
Cold
The fear of the nothingness
That rest between me
And this thin piece of aluminum
Grows deeper in my veins
As I'm drifting in space.
I'm not going forward,
Nor am I backwards,
Just drifting further away uncontrollably
Which is quite unfortunate
Because I’m fumbling with this cold pen
Trying to find my direction home
With my comfy bed that you hog every night.
How could I trust these thrusters to ****** me to my destination
When my mind has exiled me to question this space
That is spaced around me.
So alone, yet I'm crowded with my own thoughts.
I just want to let it out, scream so hard
That my lungs burn with frustration
Yet in space
No one can hear my screams
Including you.
Oct 14, 2018
Oct 14, 2018 at 5:08 PM UTC
straight to the edge surpass light speed
full reverse thrusters
tractor beam
money exchanged
souls bought and sold
twist the tourniquet bleeding uncontrolled
satisfy thirst
bringin' the onslaught
don't know better
what they were taught
it's over now the good guys won
final scene moppin' up blood
surrender in droves
white flags wavin'
hands in the air
these souls need savin'
Feb 24, 2016
Feb 24, 2016 at 10:23 PM UTC
A man of Mensa fell from grace,
Along with the world's population bound for space.
The ship was constructed from metal of a new source.
The inventor for which was known to be hoarse.
Warnings had been shared.
Reserves were being prepared.
Rumours ran amuck.
Confidence became unstuck.
A limitless arc of man's own invention.
Its potential impacts go without mention.
A crew selected.
No aspect neglected.
Few men chose to stay behind.
To the Christian faith they were all aligned.
Fearful of the concept of a new life,
One void of the perils held within religious strife.
The day man left earth,
Christians chose to stay in the waters of their baptismal birth.
They stared in awe as the shuttle soared,
The throttle for which was completely floored.
The man at the helm possessed an incredible mind.
A duplicate the centuries have made hard to find.
Cogs in the ship became incorrectly tangled,
And soon the thrusters were completely mangled.
The ship plummeted towards the ground
Screams of agony the only audible sound
The whole thing crashed and burned.
All were dead, no lesson to be learned.
The world was left without reason.
A word against Christ deemed to be high treason.
Now, these void of thought own the land
Sacrificial place holders for those who took a truly righteous stand.
Aug 15, 2014
Aug 15, 2014 at 7:29 PM UTC
We look up in wonder at the stars,
We ponder on there being life on Mars,
And so we've sent a craft to see,
A marvellous thing called 'Curiosity'.
And on the surface of the big red rock,
The last of its kind looks up in shock,
As from the sky there falls a star,
Which has travelled there from afar.
Then the star begins to slow,
And the last Martian feline down below,
Stares in wonder, as a chute deploys,
Soon followed by the strangest noise,
As the thrusters ignite to stop,
The rapidity of the strange craft's drop.
And then the craft begins to lower,
A separate large object from below her,
Which lands upon the creature's head,
Leaving it squashed and very dead!
Now just how ****** ironic is that?
'Curiosity' killed the cat!
Tom Higgins 05/08/2012
May 26, 2014
May 26, 2014 at 12:37 PM UTC
A hundred souls have now been called,
Finalists for the one way trip to Mars;
They wait again for numbers to be culled
So they can take a place among the stars.
Knowing they can not return,
Still they choose to feel the thrusters burn,
The first to leave their mother, Earth
Prodigal children, these, their birth to spurn.
And so they wait while science catches up
To give them air and food and liquid sup,
Suspended on their way so they can stand
In thinner air and orange rock and arid sand.
The universe, expanding as it goes, for Earth
Waits patiently as we climb the ladder to the sky
To test the science and find an astral birth,
The outer limit of our human quest for why.
And when we stand some day on rocky Mars
Dissatisfied, we'll look out past old Sol
Peering out for paths to other stars,
The restless quest still burning in our souls.
Jul 15, 2015
Jul 15, 2015 at 8:56 AM UTC
I’ll bee back
The time has come,
My bags are packed,
I’m heading out into the blue.
I’m thankful for all that you have all done for me
And I will miss each and every one of you.
For the times we have shared, I am eternally grateful,
But my destiny awaits and I am ready, willing and able,
To break out on my own and begin a whole new adventure.
I have loved the life I have shared with you,
But I am in need of bigger and better.
There are so many things on my bucket list,
It is time I began crossing them off.
Turbine thrusters have been enabled;
It is time that I was gone.
For this send-off I love you all
And I truly will never forget,
But I am a bee and there is so much out there to see.
Ignition; starting jets…
This image!
This time!
This is a part of me now;
With you all lined up, hands a-waving me goodbye,
Oh you make me proud!
It has been an honour and a privilege to serve with you all.
My bee’s knees are standing tall
And it’s because of you all that I must go.
The world awaits; you will forever bee my mates.
I will miss you all and I will return; I hope that you all know.
The countdown has begun.
The runway has been lit up by the rising of the morning sun.
One small step for please bee kind,
One giant leap into the unknown…
Look out future! Here I come!
I’ll bee back one day to see you all again;
I promise.
I love you all!
3…
2…
1…
!
(C)2017 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.
Jul 5, 2019
Jul 5, 2019 at 5:18 AM UTC
Profundity in a copious abundance.
A plethora of permutations
manifested in a space station
just for this one occasion.
I'm A miserable mishap of a synapse relapse.
Too many g's spent strapped in a spacecraft.
I'm way past.
Approaching the apogee of my orbital flight path,
i stay fast.
Commanding the keys
i release by degrees
the sequence i need
to regulate speed.
position the yaw to place the weight on the wings.
Ballistic.
Friction reverberates the joystick.
A firm grip confirms slip starboard to resist it.
Missed it.
overcorrect to port and hit the thrusters as the shuttle steeply listed.
Fixed it.
Fuel flow sufficient.
Systems full power...
Planetary collision imminent.
Straps bound with linemant
grind against the ligaments
of this rocket's only complement.
Fully and always confident
that i'm more than only competent,
I choose a continent.
Raise the nose to soften descent
and verbally deploy nuclear armaments.
Alarming hits disarm blips and sink ships with robot hiss.
Welcome to my ****
Oct 17, 2022
Oct 17, 2022 at 3:10 AM UTC