In recent times,
I have begun to notice,
There is a black hole in my orbit,
The deepest obsidian,
An anomaly in my wake,
Following me from room to room,
Its event horizon salivates,
Consuming memories and intentions,
Knowledge eaten by the void,
Taking the very words from my mouth,
Morphing every room into a mystery,
Leaving me unsure,
Leaving me deadpan,
But most of all lost in my own demesne.
Winter can’t last forever,
Even the blizzards give way eventually,
Relieved by ice cream and sweat,
And the sun shall dwell for longer,
It’s a time for celebration,
It’s not all good news though,
When the nights grow shorter,
My twilight assemblies are also cut short,
My gambols with Lady Lunar,
Our time more precious than saffron,
The sun doesn’t hold the same power,
Not for me,
The heat is welcome,
But the annulment of my celestial soul mate,
That is an injury too grievous,
Will the moon still remember me?
Or shall summer be the end of our tryst?
Yet another romance incinerated,
Burned away at first light,
To the monody of paradise birds.
I find myself in a barrow,
Caked in dew and ash,
I know not how I found myself here,
And yet I hold the shovel,
In my personal astronomy,
I’m at my nadir,
Bedrock,
No longer illuminated by lunar,
My eyes are asteroids of ice,
And no stars rest behind them,
My zenith is now obscured,
Hidden by clouds I myself painted,
I know not why,
But even now I hold the brush.
I think I’m in Roswell,
A crash site reject,
Flanked by arid air and flaming debris,
I’m not sure I fit on this planet,
I don’t belong here,
I think I’m an alien,
Speaking in bizarre cosmic tongues,
A kryptonian without a Krypton perhaps,
A little green man,
A space invader,
I don’t quite gel with these normal people,
These earthlings,
I always seem to attract cagey glances,
I’m a bit of a UFO,
But I do come in peace.
When you gaze up at her,
Have you ever wondered,
Why the moon has a crescent?
It’s to remind us of the scythe,
That iron kiss we all imbibe,
Not as a threat,
But to remind us to live,
The moon is an attentive beholder,
With an ivory grin,
She rests high in the firmament,
And she sees all,
A thin veil of clouds like maids-in-waiting,
Frantically failing to cover up their queen,
Lest her form be compromised,
She is the more shy of the sky’s orbs,
Dame Solar exemplifies life,
While Lady Lunar venerates the dead,
Her message is just as vital though,
That death can come randomly and unannounced,
That’s what the crescent tells us,
Willed on by the night-time air.
We were spawned of stardust,
Brought forth as stellar entities,
All of us,
You and I,
You are both deity and vassal,
Creator and created,
The heavens and every atom on Earth,
Everything,
When you blink,
Suns die and are born,
When you think,
You propel comets out into the cosmos,
When you breathe,
Nebulae pulse and unfurl,
And when you expire,
It is as matter to a black hole,
The void holds you,
Never succumb to despair,
Never give up,
For you child,
You are one with the universe,
You are starspawn.
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.
There’s a face upon the moon,
A phantasm,
Beelzebub or something far worse,
Oh aye,
On this night of all nights,
The twilight of the harvest,
It dances across craters as sorcerous shadow,
Gazing down in mad glee,
With its eerie light upon the graves,
All lunar rays and violet mist,
Under its scrutiny things begin to rise,
Spirits and corpses pulse from the dirt,
Crones look up from their cauldrons,
Every terror imaginable walks the city lights,
All of the outcasts and weirdos,
Swamp beasts and bloodsuckers,
It’s like a summoning,
A dark entity beckoning to its kith,
For this festival of the occult,
Under the moon we are family,
The monster in the moon smirks,
This will be a hell of a Halloween.
I yearn to be a supernova,
A celestial detonation,
A show of primordial potency,
I want to be a firework,
Exploding a clowns grin across a night sky,
To ignite the skies above,
Strings of art held in fiery glare,
Incandescent craft amongst the stars,
Flushing every pair of eyes with radiance,
I ride this runaway nuclear ignition,
Just to confer one gift to all,
Just to be noticed once,
But yes,
An explosion ends eventually,
Even one born of suns,
Before I burn out,
And return to shadow,
I’m going to bath you all in light.
WorldofHarley 