Best Orbited Poems
(As Galileo left the session of the Inquisition
at which he had been forced to deny his own
discovery that the earth orbited the sun, and
had to "admit" that the earth was static, he
murmured, "eppur si muove" ("but it moves").
It's hard to live in Lilliput, I find.
I have to cross my fingers, play their game.
Their billing, filling, drilling daily grind
sits ill with me. They all trot out the same
tired cliches. Passing a painting, never fail
to comment on the squareness of the frame.
Unprofitable, weary, flat and stale.
You can't earn prizes here. These fools prize earning.
No sweets to eat. It's one long dreary tale
of condemnation, disapproval, spurning.
The Sunday supplements determine taste,
all tearing down, forbidding, banning, burning.
They're sealed in heavy metal, concrete-cased
austerity. They put the "die" in "diet".
What will survive of them is nuclear waste.
Denounce, detract, dismiss it and deny it.
Don't look for clover - look for cloven hooves.
Excoriate it, flay it, vilify it.
They'd love to let life lurch along in grooves,
the gauche, perverse, unruly human mind
trapped tidily in aspic. But it moves.
~*~
She floated down
on a shimmering
moonbeam
and my eyes
saw starlight
glowing in her
cosmic smile
as perfect love
orbited my
heart
and the
universe
became ours
So distant was love from her heart to mine,
We orbited different worlds
Yet we spun with a passion on destiny's path
Rotating with desire as we eclipsed;
The enchanting shadow of love, for a moment in time,
Fell on distant hearts, passing through the night
6-15-2020
Its Hidden Messages in my Texts
worth Examining
you can see the Chosen from The Strangling
beatens an chains
all linked to a prophecy ordained
I've looked through documents for the Author of this Manuscript
Which is me the Key the King to a degree only the oppressors see who exists
science defying the recessive diamond genes to manifest a seed to triumph
We Athletes the Giants
with Might an Speed
Born Supreme a Diamond
still we shine through out all the famine
genocidal manaics
with prideful hatred attached
Forces of evil who masquerades as the Men In Black
with the Neuralizer with a Brain zapped
With a body frame detached to tell fables of raps
i disconnected from the Cable an a fatal impact
rewired my cells so it's able to react to the tornadoes they craft
another dispatch
a brother in the pavement with no pulse to graft
wonder now how savage insane we act
we goin mad is there a way to get back
being the Power Circle
but they mixed pink lemonade in at
generator operator destroyer
i made a general observation to be a detourer
be a general overstating his Order
so they can see his illuminated Aura
we can be Kings we dont got to be gangsters
Gangster is King with the Glory given from the Creator
thats why im letting this Red Pill Orbit
you can see through all our misfortunes through our history Courses of History Horror
we are Glorious
Victorious
I Am Morpheus
who went through a Metamorphosis
who Orbited a Solar Eclipse
an Burned the Moon so the Sun can be Lit
the One in the Matrix close to the Oracle
Zion
im a Lion
who knows the Architect who designed the prints
this supreme mathematics abstracted of the Creators Calculus of my birthday to be in this present state
so you see these prime birthdate numbers is ordinal
Im the Ultimate Warrior
Against Jake the Snake
I Put Snakeskin on my Mocassins
an make chains out of they Vertebrates
an made a Vest out the Lizard Scales
My face shine with the Melanin so now you know why my Pigment isn't Pale
Soul Summoned out the Book of the Dead to Lead Nations out this Wizardry Spell
Into the Body of Israel
In April of '57 the US got quite the shock
The Soviets launched Sputnik
The space satellite rock
We fell behind in the race from that very day,
That is, until we elected a President named
J F K...
Only three months into his term
1961, April, back then
Yuri Gagarin orbited Earth
Those Russians were at it again
JFK circled the wagons with the White House clan
Told 'em ~ America's got to win this race in the end...
Alan Shephard went up in the month of May
But as fast as he shot up, just that fast he came down
Compared to Gagarin, he was a monkey, a clown
Strapped tight to a board--rigid, upright
He did nothing but endure the vertical flight
~Unlike Gagarin, who manually controlled
his takeoff and landing, the ultimate goal
Then Grissom went up in the month of July
He seemed to fly nicely and pretty high
But at the end of the day
His near-disastrous landing
Clearly was NOT 'A-OK."
And by February '62
When Glenn orbited the Earth
Those Soviets led us by quite a wide berth.
Kennedy grimaced, fuming inside
He reckoned it was time for us to take pride
in our space program, to date a big bust
~ In the race 'gainst the Soviets, a win was a must
So he gathered his courage and adjusted his vision
Set out for Rice University, appeared on television
Challenging us, coaxing us, squeezing us, urging us
with this daring question--
so the Soviets wouldn't be 'purging' us:
Some people ask, 'Why?'
To them I reply
with all that I've got
~ Why not?
Then he set this agenda for NASA,
America's fledgling space agency:
Put a man on the moon before 1970!
~ JFK's proudest legacy
Postscript: On July 20, 1969, American astronaut Neil Armstrong,
took man's first step on the lunar surface
~"One small for man; one giant leap for mankind."
I wore cashmere
and splashed Chantilly on my skin.
I wore cashmere
for him who orbited my sphere.
Sweet smelling, soft and feminine,
I lived to put him in a spin. . .
I wore cashmere.
Written By Andrea Dietrich
for the Contest of nette onclaud:
"Weave a Rondelet"
One day, watching a reddened evening sky
over the western horizon, it’s peculiar though,
a thought that is so preposterous suddenly came to my mind
and that was the earth is not revolving. Is it because the world was
too quiet? Or the world was too chaotic.
Once this absurd thought ran through my mind,
neither of those great names, Copernicus nor Galileo
bore weight on me and their heliocentric theory faded away
as well.
The papal absolution bestowed on Galileo after four century’s
long years of silence, to me, was not only the meaningless gesture of
such an arrogant God’s institution but was the subversion of God’s majestic power or it means that God was ousted from his throne and became subservient to his own creature, man.
After all, it can be said that then,
it was not because the earth revolved on its own axis, time flowed,
or the earth orbited the sun, seasons changed. But because I think
time flows, the time flows. I feel seasons change, the seasons change.
For my wildest notion came to this far I felt uneasy inside. I wanted to hear sound of passing clouds, I was keen on seeing winds pile up under my feet, in this utter stand-still-soundless world.
That is why I thought I should spin earth with all my strength,
though I was weak and flabby. I pushed earth leaning myself
against air, I pulled it, I tried to carry it on my back, but, alas, earth did not move.
I was, therefore, all run down, and that’s why I laid on the ground
staring at the sky and grumbled just like that cowardly Galileo muttered
while exiting from a sacred and inviolable court of the Inquisition after his recantation, “E pur si mouve”—[But it does not move!]
As I grumbled, I heard the sound of drifting clouds,
I saw flowing water resting on the corolla becoming clear dew,
I was stepping on the pile of fallen leaves blown by the passing winds. And even, before I was aware of them, I noticed that stars were twinkling in the darkening sky high above.
A BUTTERFLY BLOWING BUBBLES
I was catching bubbles in a butterfly net for beauty’s sake
Needless ‘tis to say sans any success
The second I secured one it would summarily break
And I left with but bubbles that burst to confess
First I was cursed when the last bubble burst
A rainbow reflecting orb that orbited a galaxy of glory
But bubbles burst as was well rehearsed
And alas a lady’s allegiance became all but an allegory
The bubbles were the lady’s biblical sign of sorrow
A parable comparable to pain
The butterfly net an ineffective trap untamed by tomorrow
Because bubbles don’t fare well in the rain
That rain was a metaphor for a meteor shower
The sky’s tale told by tempestuousness and temptation
A symbol of sordidness and a parable of power
A fable able to create total alienation
Damn girl
The consequence of your comeuppance screwed things up completely
Not to mention quite indiscreetly
You messed things up in a major way
By a means of misery only the heartless may
You turned beautiful bubbles into beleaguering bricks
With flagrantly fragrant candles missing their wicks
You burst my bubble of beauty by begetting the misbegotten
And now you and those burst bubbles may never be forgotten
Because damn girl………..
You really and royally screwed things up
So excuse me as I try catching bubbles in a half-empty cup
© 2012…PHREEPOETREE ..~free cee!~
The first exploration was to the moon
Where we saw how its craters are hewn
We have orbited Jupiter to unveil the shroud
and unlocked the mystery beneath its dense cloud,
Man's curiousity has taken him to Mars
He's seen Saturn's rings as he journeyed among the stars,
Traveling to planets light years away
To reveal mysteries long held at bay
Exploring the universe is the ultimate goal
But they must avoid the deadly black hole,
and as the technology does improve
To colonize other planets is the next move
3-31-2023
Sponsor: Constance La France
Writing Challenge - 'Q' Words - Poetry Contest
The warm, dark wood of high-backed stalls
enclosed us like a womb,
and, nose to nose, we talked with eyes,
oblivious of the room.
You shone with special radiance
that welled up from your soul,
a subtle, golden inner light
I was honored to behold.
The candle made our shadows dance
so merrily on the wall -
our faces orbited the flame,
so happily enthralled.
Your eyes were pale as opal stones,
translucent as the sea,
and in their depths I know I saw
what looked like love to me.
You were so fair, so beautiful,
so graceful, that you gave
to me a blessed memory
I'll carry to the grave.
Moon Walk
They took off from Cape Kennedy
In a gasoline filled Saturn V
They orbited round
To find some smooth ground
In the Sea of Tranquility
So Neil Armstrong bounced on the moon
Like some extraterrestrial buffoon
But he wasn’t alone
And his space suited clone
Would be bouncing around very soon
The lunar module had some locks
To make sure the capsule undocks
They'd wired a flag
So it wouldn't sag
And then they came home with some rocks
I bet you don't see the stars in his eyes
The galaxies that encompass his mind
The beauty of darkness
Held within a heart
That never knew how to love
I bet you can't comprehend his thoughts that embody black holes
Lost within the calamity of it all
But my heart always had his embraced within the grip of my palm
But it lead astray
The constellations didn't quite align correctly
The planets orbited incoherently
And that path
Mistakingly lead to you
So here I am
Lost within the concept of time and space
Who fell in love with a star
That was dead at first sight
To my little star,
She twinkles the most in the obscure, somber sky.
Though she is found so far, so far, yet she shines gleams happy.
Her dust: stardust the little silver powder which was left to me.
I was lonely, so was she.
At night, I stare at her, brooding about life.
At times, the other stars glare at me, because I love, cherish her tremendously
I only wish to have an angel.
To eradicate past histories of pain, ancient memories of fears.
I always wished that she could come and give me company when I needed her the most.
Like a sister, like a mother, like a daughter.
She would sing me a lullaby, every night.
A sweet, soft melody amusing my ears.
A chirp, a giggle, a sheer ecstasy.
My little star, tiny white dot of the universe which enlightens my world with its tremulous light.
And that wish upon a star was conceived.
A wave of silvery-blue, brilliant light orbited around my room.
Everything seemed to alter: like as if I felt into a reverie.
Was it oblivion?
No.
My angel with white, bright, sparkling wings was right here, on her feet, in front of me.
She was real, distinct, made of matter.
Blue eyes, pink lips, white barren face just like a fairytale.
Striking the crystal clear tears of mine, my angel is here.
Rise up, Scion of La Mancha.
Destiny orbited all that you were
and encompassed all that you possessed.
Windmills stood ten-fold to the fore
when you readied your lance
and saddled your barn nag.
Its whipped hide and ungulated
hoofs cantering towards betrayal
and unfinished vows.
Your voice was virtuous in timbre
against the manifest threat of cruel
malfeasance that roamed the lands
of bogus hills and rampant mountains
charging towards the crest of your
enlightened honour.
Now, these burning candles about
your casket hold the truth
of your quests until, like you,
they peter out and die.
And then, recitations of your Quixotic
trials shall be cleaved from history.
Such is the eye of irony that wrests
away your conquests.
So, rise up Scion of La Mancha and challenge
the lies. Ride abroad with purpose once more.
Or lay where you rest and let time become
a biased judge to your well laid intentions.
I admit tubby distracted by a modeling
female physique when attempting to write,
an aching agony rips thru this son,
gripping with hard on – tight -
by Dickens constricting sensation,
who orbited the sun LX times
coon sitters himself heterosexual male,
where slumbering testosterone forces unite,
no matter my libido feels
deadened, this despite
the above mentioned
asthma ordinary devoid sexual drive,
when these eyes (brown and myopic) sight
even just a picture
oven an attractive gal fanciful flight
evokes dormant longings
crashing thru concentration
without any invite
sparring dueling animal urge,
I know ain't right
since being married,
and all (witches nothing to celibate)
boot even if aye hapt tubby
dim witted with cerebral blight
prurient predilections, would
nonetheless prevail causing affright,
whereby the photographed lovely lady
dashes out like shuttered image,
though only so few inches in height,
would make a bee line into an
unreachable cubbyhole,
not totally airtight
just enough breathing room
to await darkening hour of night
than with lightspeed akin to meteorite
off into the farther reaches with a blink quite
invisible this quasi
holographic like pseudo sprite
leaves yours truly in the lurch ignite
ting a supposed sexual propensity gone cold
nay, no can do, cuz
untethered high as a kite
electrifying animal desire forced to bite
the dust, though thankfully concupiscent pang
ordinarily not the least bit aroused, aye attest
nope, not lascivious provocative
Barenaked Ladies can NOT excite
an older fellow, whose adolescent body
seethed with hormonal secretion,
and any pretty young thang did alight
a stick up between still skinny legs,
hence people watching
(particularly gals), a birthright
even migrant and/or
teenage mutant ninja turtle doth delight
tool hook, but NOT touch
most times an effortless fight,
yet every once in a while atavistic
pulsations, asper call
of the wild bobwhite
overrides instagramming, snapchatting,
and twittering uber with such might
even erupting sexless interludes of eunuch
or "FAKE" shining knight
chess moonlighting also as “FAKE” playwright,
hence if perchance a beauty catches me sight
lack of youth in your favor
from my penitent penile plight!