Even in the healthiest of situations,
The closest of coteries,
You may yet find radioactive material,
Bitterness hidden in silence,
Toxic opinions,
Malignant arguments,
Polonium isn’t always obvious,
Despite its cool blue glow,
But its effects can be,
Like a cancer,
The radiation can seep out,
Unseen even by a Geiger meter,
Blighting the joy,
Poisoning the friendship,
Poisoning the well,
The host will inevitably grow unwell,
And unless decontaminated,
The crew will perish.
I’ve been travelling space for eons,
Been across the stars,
I languish in the cold periphery of the expanse,
Getting my cardio across galaxies,
How do I survive you ask?
I consume worlds and moons whole,
Oh yes,
I’ve stripped countless planets,
Subsisting on dirt and magma
Both flora and fauna are my entrees,
Finishing the atmosphere for dessert,
Then on to the next celestial meal,
What am I?
They call me the great devourer,
But they give me too much credit,
I’m just a hungry god,
Doing what gods do,
Enacting our will on hapless mortals,
So I continue my culinary journey,
And I’ve heard of a new feast,
Some jade and sapphire beauty,
Laden with all manner of delicacies,
They call it Earth,
Sounds rather delectable.
We are all aliens to one another,
We all look different,
Speak differing tongues,
And our brains can be extra-terrestrial,
But diplomacy is always the way,
Space exploration through words,
Through harmony,
They say men are from Mars,
And women are from Venus,
But I disagree,
In truth every one is a galaxy,
Full of planets of memories,
And poems riding comets,
Orbiting a pulsing scarlet sun,
Maybe we are all Martians,
But hearts are universal,
They reach across nebulae,
So leave your ray guns at home,
Instead wield your universal translator,
And make first contact,
For love moves at lightspeed.
We are all automata,
Little toys of questionable longevity,
Following a set pattern,
Fashioned of matchsticks and turpentine,
We were left on some Geppetto’s worktable,
The crank was turned eons ago,
Starting out cyclical dramas,
Our faux miracles and science fairs,
You see,
Our autonomy is but an illusion,
We are but puppets,
And we can only follow the sequence,
Like any other mechanical curio,
Trapped in this cycle,
Until the inertia dies away.
Last night,
There were strange lights in the sky,
Creepy neon greens and oranges,
Comets raving as if sentient,
You remember it making your head hurt,
You wake up to eerie silence,
No birds chirping or distant lawnmowers,
Everything aches,
Your cat hisses as you pass,
The paperboy gawks way too long,
The street feels somehow off,
There are bizarre burnt spots on the lawns,
Your neighbour doesn’t know who you are,
Passers-by stare at your house as they walk,
Vacant expressions and wide eyes,
It’s your imagination you conclude,
An off day surely,
At least you think so,
But your spouse forgets your name,
Your children flinch at your presence.
I’m a spaceman,
With a fishbowl on my noggin,
Setting off to explore,
Touring a galaxy of stars and art,
And charting the supernova in my heart,
I’m in a space shuttle,
Surging through the atmosphere,
A confident rocket,
Leaving self-deprecation on the launch pad,
Burned away at last,
The turbulence doesn’t scare me,
The journey has begun,
Ignition,
I’m in a space shuttle,
And I’m going up.
Oh my,
She’s a laser beam,
Full of energy and warm light,
A powerful streak of colour,
Blazing through my dusky skies,
Inimitable,
Unobstructed,
Prismatic,
As quirky as a disco ball,
Shimmering under glitzy rays,
She’s energising as the suns glare,
Yet cutting as a Goldfinger laser,
She’s almost like science fiction,
This laser beam lady,
She lights me up like an x-ray,
A pale heart in an irradiated skeleton.
When peace chokes,
Man makes monsters,
Innocent machines of war,
Smelted in our image,
Iterated upon as the iron comes of age,
Mankind declares war upon itself,
We are creating demons of metal,
Built from the ore of our flesh,
Blank slates fashioned into cyborgs and armour plates,
Soldiers of youth and cobalt steel,
These children are taught to be cold,
Indifferent and servile,
Programmed and coded against their better natures,
More attuned to pixels and circuitry,
As heart is gradually patched out,
The result is a generation of automatons,
Hellions of mineral and wiring,
Pawns of a digital regime,
Not to blame for their manufacture,
They’re just metal children,
More meat for massed conflict.
In spite of our grand utterances,
And our Earthly self-importance,
It must be said,
We are but fleas in the cosmos,
Strands of dust on solar winds,
Though our plights do cut deep,
The universe is immeasurable,
Untold planes have already suffered,
You see their husks through that huge lens,
Stars burned themselves out before we even felt fire,
The void holds all manner of oddities,
Nebulae and quasars and black holes,
How can we feel so noteworthy?
When the universe both precedes us,
And will sigh after we’re gone.
WorldofHarley 