10,000 POEMS – Posted freshly most days
There are too many to read
or understand –
no chance
in our burning time
of warmer days –
no time left
between climbing high tides
We will never comprehend
what we see
when we look
overhead at spitting lights
beamed at 186,000 miles
per second
And then even more bared
by your long-gazed appraisal
as we chart
our growing ignorance
of what is beyond our reach
No time left for us
to fuck them up as well
This dessicated path
is an off-white scar
under the moon’s phase
of waxing gibbous
Boots and tamed dogs
have worn this route
into a grass-bare map
which I read by that light
The holding flightpaths
of man-made meteors –
of ephemeral accords –
circle among the clouds
The transmitter mast blinks
with a beast’s red eye
shaming Arcturus and Mars
so even those stars fade
This as the bypass hums
a song of our war won –
our tilt against creation
by over engineering
A sideshow, a bit part of the story,
in a galaxy far, far away;
never closer to any ending,
and Troopers’ aim, as ever, astray:
Rough Rebels yell loudly for glory,
with occasional laughs at their knobs –
lit buttons pressed too randomly,
but, still they do the job.
A gathering of weird alien species,
stood around their circular table,
future knights, again myth-making,
think the Force is more than capable.
With a cameo from a long-dead actor,
heavy breaths from the ever-buffed Darth,
Rogue One sits nicely in the box set,
big returns on a brand we all love.
I never saw her selfies,
just those last few camera shots,
on her lonesome way
to 67P’s hardened rocks:
I’m sure she had worked well,
that little spacey probe,
but always doomed to crash
on an indurate comet’s slope;
a mess she must’ve made
on the speeding icy mass,
hurrah for humanity,
we’ve littered more of space!
MIKE BELL | 10,000 Poems 