In the Beginning
The stars were beautiful
And serene
But then the moon appeared
Scattering crumbs
of Self
in their paths
They tasted and became hungry
Seething with desire
Angry with avarice
at each other
The throng moved as one
Distorted were their
pretty faces
as they became the Doom
They fell upon the moon
Who died without a sound
Distended became stomachs
feasting greedily
They became heavy
Crashing through the sky
They lay in puddles of destruction
Until the children found them
and cradled them
Giving them to their parents
To wind
They disgorged the moon
Which the older young
Threw to the sky
It coalesced and was joyous
The stars played
And danced
until all the lines of hate
that had creased their faces
where gone
And then in happiness
they drifted back to their vault
Where they sat in
Companionship
with the moon
Archive for the ‘Moon Art Blast Off’ Category
A Child’s Story
Sunday, July 21st, 2019Close Encounter
Sunday, July 21st, 2019Jason couldn’t stop thinking about the man
He was tall, grey, glowing and scary
But he would never forget the energy scan
On waking, Jason was struck by a plan
He had to flee as the situation was bad, very
Jason couldn’t stop thinking about the man
Later, Jason was spooked by visions of Saturn
His imagination had become interplanetary
But he would never forget the energy scan
Jason’s consciousness expanded as he ran
His mind had become uncontrollably arbitrary
Jason couldn’t stop thinking about the man
Jason’s ideas stacked like an endless caravan
Thoughts burned inside like a toxic dictionary
But he would never forget the energy scan
Jason nosedived into a time warp like a forgetful clam
His otherworldly destination felt dangerously necessary
Jason couldn’t stop thinking about the man
But he would never forget the energy scan.
By Jason Conway
Moments
Sunday, July 21st, 2019This is the moment when the clouds that had glowed so fantastically tangerine
Have faded to lead, pinning the once brilliant sky into dread certainty
The moment when the chips that had been so fine and smoothly hot
Are soggy cold and taste of stale fat
We look at each other pondering a kiss to reawaken the splendour of the night
But the fizzy beverages consumed with taste bud exploding goodness
Repeat themselves, and one of us emits an unattractive belch
Sensation is muted and any sex had would be flat or painful
And yet within these moments the remembrance of glory is enough
Moments shift and move
And now the leaden dead sky gives birth to a florid blue studded with ice gems
Tangled grey ribbons fluoresce
Moonbows show delicate colours at their rims
The Tower
Sunday, July 21st, 2019There was a tower
within the tower
fractal within
Models without
Nested ideas
Realities bloom
Stars seen
Astronomy folly
Lonely on the hill
Waiting
Pregnant with itself
Do you
Paint, drawn, write
Explore?
There was a tower
within a tower
Modelled in the tower
and so on and on
Outside a sheep bleats
And the lightning conductor
Corrodes
Numbers and stitch
Craft and design
Inovations rule
Old and new
The tower
within the tower
Is a little worse for wear
So is the viewer
And the within is without
Fractal nature
Learning at school
Will the tower
within the tower
Grow some day?
Creating
New Follies
Old follies
Seemed like
A good idea
The Tower
There are never really
bad ideas
Just different to the plan
A universe
Not bounded
Though it often seems
That way
A tower within
And one
One without
By Saffy
7 billion
Sunday, July 21st, 20197 billion minds encoding the rhthym of life
7 billion awarenesses all wired roughly along the same lines
7 billion idea sharers, pattern seeking minds that search
7 billion lives beautifully unique
7 billion hearts to feel, love… hate
7 billion hungers – some needs, some wants
7 billion people
1 is me – another is you
7 billion potential soar
A sea of blinding thought
Carrying the wave of intent
Now to space, now to the deeps
Or to carry us out of the existence
Singularity is coming
Racing on the crest of population expansion
Moon Phase
Sunday, July 21st, 2019
I am of a blood red moon,
in the month of my woman
I am a howling she,
A praise be.
I am wolf and moon and blood,
I am of bitter truths and lunacy,
I am of wide-eyed raptures,
Finger tapping on white glass
And reflections on past,
When I call her.
She answers in her early rise,
Dinner-plated eye sized,
Remains, when sun adjoins again
At morning break,
She is glorious and stays.
She is holy and revered,
By all in love,
And lightened at the blackened pitch,
A candle in ginormous wick,
And wax and wane,
The fact remains,
She nightly nurses us all to health.
A Poem by Tish Camp ( c ) 2019
The Girls Room
Sunday, July 21st, 2019Mary and Jean’s room is such a mess
You can’t see the floor
As they have so many toys
Toys they have galore!
There are teddies, dollies
cars and trains
and don’t forget the spacecraft
and the planes!
There’s coloured blocks
buried beneath bar sheep socks
And Jean’s collection of interesting rocks
There are soft blankets to snug
Iridescent glow in the dark slugs
Dragons and monsters and more
All stuck as stickers upon the door
Plus a papier mache castle – cor!
There are dinosaurs and tigers,
butterflies and flowers
Dress up cloaks to give them super powers
A clock with brightly coloured cogs
Floppy cuddly big eared dogs
Not to mention the jumping frogs
The scattered board games
And a computer that has been tamed
A picture of a black bird framed on the wall
Books full of adventures cascade
And then as the day light fads
Two explorers find sleep hard to evade
Curled up in dozy dreams
Within a time machine
Made of blankets and bunk bed beams
It’s time for snoozing and some epic dreams!
Life On Mars
Sunday, July 21st, 2019I’m glad I have my virtual friends.
The company of my colleagues tends
to become monotonous in extreme.
I go for a walk so I can scream
and no-one hears me, and that’s a bonus.
I can do without the self-hypnosis,
and concentrate on hydroponics,
my text book on rocket physics
and recipes for cultured meat –
in vitro steak which we can eat
after making bricks with a 3D printer.
My friends tell me they spent the winter
playing blues in down-town Memphis.
I boast I climbed Mons Olympus.
I’m jealous of the pets they keep –
we only have a pair of sheep.
We use their wool to mend our clothes.
Sometimes I regret I chose
to book a passage on Branson’s ship.
I didn’t know it was a one-way trip.
By Colin Waterman
Prophecy
Sunday, July 21st, 2019Sooth Sayers
Ides of March
Delphic Oracle
Prophet
Clairvoyant
Witch
Apocalypse
Date Change
Dooms Day
Play
Armageddon
Bedlam
Nostradamus
Nemesis sky
Mayan
Astrology
Numerology
Age dies
Scientists cry
Politician says
Cassandra lie
The end is nigh
Are we about to die?
Beware
Self fulfulling
Trance dance
glance chance
End of the World?
Or the end of…
The world as we know it
Information streams
Dreams
Futurologists
Sings
Hive mind
Life extension
Space exploration
The Drawn is coming
From The Moon
Sunday, July 21st, 2019
From The Moon full colour by Tom Brown
