Best Hyperspace Poems
One evening, gazing into the endless expanse,
Lured by its mystery, I sat engrossed in thoughts.
The world around me seemed to fade and all I knew I was buoyed up.
I was traveling through inter galactic space on a space odyssey,
With my friend, well equipped with space suits and sturdy helmets.
I slipped out of reality and how swift our lightning Sputnik,
Out running the speed of sound and light shot into space with a violent jerk.
At a distance were luminous spheres, suspended like glowing lanterns.
Comets and meteors in hyperspace seemed more like diffused designs.
Down, I saw Mother Earth, a luminous ball, not bigger than a sapphire dot.
Earth, with all its mammoth structures shrunk in seconds before my eyes.
Knew I was millions of leagues up in the sky and feeling dizzy, I looked away.
The star-spangled sky seemed more like blue chiffon stitched with silver sequins.
Oh! How quickly we landed on Mars, so different from what I had learnt.
Neither a barren belt of sterile terrain, nor a rugged stretch of craters burnt,
But a heavenly place, cool and serene full of scintillating and ravishing sights.
We, from a faraway land were warmly received by a team of alien sprites.
Our body weight was suddenly lifted, and we bounced up and down in ether,
Losing in the magic and bliss of that Zion, wondering if it was chimera or truth,
Reality pulled me down headlong and I woke up suddenly from a pleasant dream!
Tethers float & tickle like feathers
I'm aloft unaware of outside weathers
Evening enhanced by colloquial pleasures
Malleable & manipulated
Esoterica like yours specifically stipulated
"Tie me to your tongue" I sing
Oh I utter the strangest things!
Yet I must admit I'm fully focussed
Overjoyed at this conversational hocus pocus
Unusually laid back & vocally gushing
Rampant points of interest gain further pushing
Tantalise & give me traction
Obligated now to end-goal satisfaction
Nerve endings sever in hyperspace
"Great subject matter expert kept perfect pace!"
Unbiased reviews are fully flowing
Eloquence like yours has me all glowing
Just a poetic (souper) side note courtesy chief
wordsmith brother unaware ye experienced grief
diagnosed as walking pneumonia please bull lief
yours me, he doth care and breathes sigh of relief.
Gratis the miracle of modern medicine wife
of Richard McGeehan, he offered succor
during serious bout when ye suffered strife
lovingly tendering lifelong counterpart
spelling finis regarding any galavanting nightlife
nurturing mother of their grown son (Brendan),
who immersed her whole self as housewife.
How aware ill luck of the draw
found thee inexplicably stricken
with serious malady against the law
nearly necessitating travois
(maneuvered by Kit Carson)
to transport thee to medical center.
The above stanza unbeknownst to you
analogous to current reading material
myopic eyes of mine view
historical fiction titled
"A Most Desperate Situation"
authored by Walter Cooper,
I just might maintain as keepsake
among various and sundry other books
lined up like soldiers upon shelved queue.
Courtesy perusing selective material
not so much to become boastful
self pedagogical ace,
but merely to expand knowledge base,
whereby latest erudition
preoccupies mindscape with displace
called realm of imagination
allowing, enabling, and providing me
to travel into hyperspace
only welcoming family members
like thee dear sister into myspace
a beloved sibling
thirteen plus months older
glad ye got begat December 1st, 1959
whereby ye got fifty two plus weeks headstart
to join (chance throw of genetic dice)
entrance into human race.
Though Amelie Beth Harris-McGeehan born
more than three score and three years ago
if series of unfortunate events would befall thee,
this sole brother would certainly mourn
and with futility emasculate and scorn
himself until... his own plaque
designating his buried cremains
in lieu of tombstone worn.
How high can we fly?
(After all, we must try!)
Like the mythical Icarus
Can we touch the sky?
Yo, the answer is 'Yes.'
We've already done THAT
Soared into space
Returning and landing
Without going Splat
Yet the question remains
Just how far can we travel?
Will we achieve Intergalacticity
'Fore the Universe unravels?
The paradigm for success was laid out long ago
By a sci-fi writer whose name you might know:
Mr. Isaac Asimov, who created Hyperspace with his brain
As he never once in his life ever boarded a plane!
February 26, 2018
I’m stealing through a twilit realm, the ancient pale of Whereis,
passing chambers of an Heiress
(though no need to feel embarrassed)
through a magic mystic mirror hanging curtainless.
A glimpse near naked alleyways (denuded by the moon) ex-
poses Ghosts in gauzy tunics
carving symbols, round and runic,
in distended dingy dungeons of uncertainness.
Down misty streets of cobblestone – ancestral avenues –
patchwork paths consume my shoes
(chasing foggy curlicues
twisting, twirling by in twos,
floating anywhere they choose),
leaving footprints that confuse
vagrant wispy retinues
of the threaded wooden sticks that stalk a Puppet wandering.
Condensed in drops of fantasy, distilled in evening dew,
shifting Shadows I pursue
(wearing faces I once knew,
slipping slowly from my view)
turn their backs to bid adieu
leaving stars to tempt me through
Awful Tower residues
mocking treasures time outgrew
in the birth of old from new
framing pageants in review
midst the visions of the painted past I can’t help pondering.
Contorted candelabra claw the skyline’s walled suspension
caught in twilight’s intervention
– still unlit (in stark dissension),
therefore seething with a tension
in the quiet apprehension
of the Watchman’s inattention
to the night-time’s bold pretension
to her power, not to mention,
to her hyperspace extension
(far beyond my comprehension
of the sundown’s bleak dimension) –
on exhausted beaten boulevards of foolish fretfulness.
Oblivion depletes me, voiding haste and hurried hassles,
me, a simple abject vassal,
trailing moonlit floating castles,
– fickle feet, but fingers facile
grasping straws and pendant tassels –
as I stumble through the rubble of forgetfulness.
I think I must be dreaming as I seem to see these things,
neath a sky alive with wings
(hear the Nightingale, she sings),
midst the whispered murmurings
soughed by Phantoms clad as Kings
pacing palaces in rings,
while their hapless footfall clings
to the sagging sinking sands of midnight’s splintered splattered ruins.
Entangled in the swirling leaves that spin in dizzy flurries,
(while the wind beside me scurries
as an ermined hermit hurries)
lurk my sleepy woes and worries
(glowing faint’ but growing blurry)
which, when plundered by the demon dusk, I’d left behind me strewn.
Continued in Part 2
The inhabitants of Quintar V
Were in many ways like Man
They evolved from legless blobs
And from the unkind sea
Ventured onto land.
Their technology advanced
In only a few thousand years.
Hyperspace was soon available.
So the greater minds left to search the stars.
For many light years they travelled.
Through universes and galaxies galore
Generations grew up on their ships
The young were taught space ship skills
And prepared in peace to greet new life.
Eventually they came upon Earth.
And at Roswell began their descent.
But despite all the knowledge gained.
The spaceship into the ground crashed.
The brainiest creatures in all the Milky Ways
Did not know how to land.
Hear the clip-clop of iambic beats
Sounds like Shelley with a side of Keats
Is that the scritchity-scratch of a goose quill flickin’
Or just the tippity-tap of some mouse you clickin’..?
So you a prophet poet, regular Marley meets Dylan
Writin’ about oppression and unjust killin’
Shootin' the Sheriff with a Reggae song
Inspirin' your generation with a sing along
A shot of tequila with a wedge of lime
Saddle up and bide your time
Every line don’t need to rhyme
I can give you a million examples
You don't seem like the lyrical type
Kickin' cold turkey with oranges ripe
That's the fruit that rhymes with nothin’
Fresh squeezed it's good for somethin’
Citric flashback, Tang for the brain
Hyperspace wormholes one cannot explain
Sun dippin' below the rim of a rhymeless plateau
Cow skull and cactus, a timeless tableau
In the twilight gloom, a weather-beaten sign
Free Verse Ranch is the place to dine
Gorge on rhyme-free wordplay victuals
Linguistic linguini and cage-free visuals
Specialty of the house: lemon chicken couplet
With a side of mashed onomatopotatoes--plop!
Gravy sloppin’ down slopes like molten lava
Washed down with mugs of fresh-brewed java
Buzzards circlin' the sky in a lazy ellipse
Moon moseyin' in for a total eclipse
Flee in the dark, take a steed for a ride
Jump the split rail fence to the other side
Leap back in time to a buzzin' hive
Looks like the vortex, circa 1995
Can barely think amid the din
Perfect time for the ‘shrooms to kick in
Tie-dyed girl where I left her spinnin' in place
Band still playin' a trippy Drums n Space
But how strange that I cannot feel my face
How did twenty years vanish without a trace?
Tumbleweed twirlin' down the rutted street
Empty rocking chair swayin' skee-reet skee-reet
'Taters still steamin' like a mini-volcano
Room reeks of whiskey stronger than Drano
Spilled orange juice tricklin' a fly-food slurry
Someone cleared outta Free Verse Ranch in a helluva hurry
The clip-clop of iambic beats, Sheriff on my tail
He wouldn't shoot an unrhymed man, would he?
Where artificial intelligence meets
Kinesthetic tracking
Cognitive science traverses
With a new Second Life Enterprise
A bold horizon
Of man-machine-imagination
Engineering virtual platforms
Connected body life hyperspace
Dreaming on cyber integration
Envisioning an astral sphere
Of consciousness free from the body
Circling planetary interdimensions
A cerebral socialized infinity
Marketed to mass humanity
Intertwining flood gates of creativity
With our physical apparatus
Parallel dimensions virtualized
As real as the bark of a tree
Catapulting post human destiny
Interstellar, monumental trajectory
loosed from the boundaries of place and time
3.28 parsec out
We’re making an impromptu flight change
Windstar is gonna have to make
a low-grav burn and turn
towards the Big Rocky asteroid belt border
It’s a risky nav maneuver for sure,
but every space outlaw has faced that situation before
We got pesky corporate police on our tail,
time to power down, run silent on dual trilitium cells
Pai-du Jerah
I’m the drawn short-straw captain of this motley crew,
they respect me with a razor edge
I’ve sacrificed my life a time or two for them,
I get the necessary begrudge ... but no flak,
when I tell them what we gotta do
My number one right hand is a woman
I wouldn’t look too hard at her, pal,
if you know what’s best for your health
Vydrikia, she’s a long purple-haired, gen-eng vixen,
with tripwire anger issues
She smiles dismissively at me,
as she unstraps her NB (nuke blast) pulse gun
Says the next time I mess with her,
she just might not have it set on stun
I know the crew is prickly raw, that they want a little r & r ...
but we’ve got an interstellar new gov hush-hush delivery to make
And this nasty job, we gotta see it through —
if we wanna get paid that five zil Galaxian credit
Don’t wanna hear none of that mission impossible talk
Our motto is:
Evade or pear starjuice cajole
Be prepared for any planetary orbital patrol
We’re space outlaws
When we drop out of hyperspace —
whatever you do,
vigilante solar citizens ...
don’t get in our way!
That’s one reward that ain’t worth dying for
We wear both hats;
sometimes we’re the good guys,
sometimes we’re on the other side
It depends on what the pay is,
depends on what the fight is too
Some say we ain’t nothing but paid mercs
When swiping the untraceable credit disk,
we love giving the mean smirks
We can be your best friend,
we can be your worst enemy
But oft times, we’re in the middle somewhere
Space outlaws don’t much care
Starship Coffee Shop
Passengers in the Starship Coffee Shop
Each seated in their alloted place.
Every table a local perturbation
In the fabric of time and space
In relative isolation the travellers
Move silently through hyperspace.
Each hand held cell phone a universe,
A worm hole to another place.
Barry Stebbings
10/08/2017
Existence in Exile
Dispensing realities of parallel dimensions thrown into alternate extensions
Panoptical parasitical pretensions lie the overlords of illegitimate intentions
Chaos encroaches an anomaly serving the omnipresent obsolescent odyssey
Travelers of space-time unconsciously rediscovering the past sacred geometry
Hemispheres of dormant deceptions live deceivers of maleficent conceptions
In the cosmic corridors of corrections and refueling in the abyss of reflections
Within infinite bubbles of the multiverse navigating neglectfully we traverse
A catatonic continuum we immerse as we ride the eternal elliptical in reverse
For now we welcome the wormhole entering worlds of the carcinogenic cabal
Into oleaginous oblivions we crawl with ideological illusions we habitually haul
Within a consciousness condemned and realities severely sacrificially stemmed
Amidst a hellion hyperspace suspend will we arise altruistic aligned and amend?
May.19.2018
In 100 Years
Sponsored by: Brian Davey
In the nights sky, The big round MOON amplifies
Nocturnally a journey set in motion, as my minds eye opens
Through the SHINING STARS so high, to the MILKY WAY I will fly
Hyperspace I'll travel as time stands frozen, a journey full of emotion
Exosphere has been reached its a convey, to the planets walkway
Nebula's fill the empty darkness, in the distance I can see VENUS
Inferior they say, but her light beautifully bright it takes my breath away
Gliding by MARS in its state of unwillingness, a red hue glows in all its wickedness
Heading by the gas giant I flee, for JUPITER holds his principles in a high degree
To PLUTO it has armor made of ice, the dwarf PLANET its toughness will suffice
So as I reach my apogee, the emptiness invaded by mystery was a site to see
The stratosphere in sight, to Earth draped in deep blue she can really entice
Knowing the journey must come to an end, God I must commend
Youthfulness builds imagination for tomorrow, something we must never outgrow
5/2/2017
What theory unifies forces, weak, strong,
With gravity— also, to which belong
All the string theories of why and because?
To answer these queries, M-theory does.
Proponents aver it offers clarity
As to the issue of singularity.—
Where there’s a will there’s a way,
So they say…
In the beginning our universe sprang
From membranes colliding to cause a Big Bang…
Hence matter and energy stem from vibrations of strings seen by seers
In a music of spheres.
One mode of vibration, or ‘note’, makes the string an electron,
Another a photon…
And what of Higgs-boson?
There’s even a mode for the graviton, thought to have gravity’s force.
So vibrating strings would then be the source
To create tiny articles which we call
Elementary particles— one and all.
Dimensions— four plus compactified seven—
Equal a total that’s oddly eleven…
To wit, though string theories wound up at the tenth,
They had to add one more that’s odd to the nth.
Do we have enough sense or senses extended
To fathom those p-branes M-theory intended
And get to the bottom of hyper spacetime
In this super multiverse theory sublime?
What sounding vibration
Strange seeming sensation
Might set the strings strumming
Or maybe branes humming
Is something to ponder,
One’s whimsies to wander—
My mind like the wind evanescent can roam
O’er billowing waves and ineffable foam
With parallels plenty of our bubble home…
Thus I heard
M-theory’s word.
Albeit in physics there’s much knowledge base,
What waters of wisdom could ever embrace
Such cosmic curled places with hyperspace face?
Eerily far we’ve come to here
From bards’ illusions yesteryear—
When heavens would sing lullabies,
With moon and stars to harmonize
Midst luminescent light display
That might have been the Milky Way
Overturning all its jars
In a shower of shooting stars…
How flimsy, fleeting, and fragile life seems,
In our floating realm like a land of dreams!
Amen— let poets lyricize yet
Sweeter reveries lest we forget
Dearer wonders perchance of yore
From whilom membranes nevermore
Where earthlings gazed at clearer skies
With yonders nearer to our eyes,
In a once upon a time divine
P-brane world of auld langsyne…
– Harley White
The Time Keepers
Take me back to where hence I came
Where dreams were made that I may regain
The love that evaporates through portal gates
Of passions past within stable states
The present now is a gift of hell
A static solitude a dungeon dwell
Where the guardians of elliptical time
Maintain resonance in a lateral line
The future fades into a voiceless void
Where love is lost and thus destroyed
Illusions of mind form the human race
And destinies delude in hyperspace
Oh keepers of time reset your clocks
For the past and future presently mocks.
Nov.21.2016
Past, Present, Future - Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Nayda Ivette Negron
A Word in Time
Minds expanding souls are demanding our existence through resistance
Searching stars the Moon and Mars with no assistance for the distance
Hemispheres facing fears launching rockets of insistence for coexistence
Dimensions and apprehensions with juvenile persistence in subsistence
~~~~
The word in transition thru hyperspace echoes in time to soon efface
With nuclear fission to start the race the future is hear we all embrace
Science the new religion full of grace our consciousness it shall replace
With black holes in position that will displace ideas of the human race
~~~~
Speed of light acoustical Angels in futuristic flight science at Godspeed
~~~~
Absorbing the now we accept and we bow and thus compliant to heed
~~~~
For Science fiction our new addiction under rule and consuming creed
~~~~
Cygnus x-1 will devour our sun a nebulous dust we will eventually bleed.
March.10.2018
Science Fiction
Sponsored by: Deborah Guenther Beachboard