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Science Fiction Poem
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ELEMENTAL DESIGN
Hydrogen to Helium
A fusion formed by gravity
A carbon-based delirium
Molecularly infinite energy
An ancient discipline known as alchemy
We’re consciousness - the explosion - amorous
We dream of gold from lead and mercury
Fueled reaction in copper with phosphorus
A universal age of prosperity
Bismuth bath. Deficient of iron and zinc
Astronautic laugh – last shine of hope
Nuclear decay –enlightened way – elemental - instinct
Scientific – logical clay – gaseous isotope.
The fluoride, we drink?
Humanity on the pivotal brink
The edge, a precipice.
Lanthanides and actinides
Metals and mysteries.
Shrink down to atomic scale
Our intellect – an accelerated history
Reality?
A holographic projection
Radioactive expansion
A gravitational trajectory
Inertia
Precious pavonine pearl
Our planet, our world.
A place all our elements may inhabit
Terrestrially unique. Diverse and intelligent
The push of inertia
The pull of gravity
The spin of an atom
The spin of our galaxy.
The end.
(written for the periodic table of elements poetry contest) 12-12-14
Copyright © Joel Thornton | Year Posted 2014
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Science Fiction Poem
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Kirk: ‘Lt. Uhura, come to my quarters at 1800 hours’
Uhura: ‘Yes captain, might I ask what’s up?’
Kirk: ‘Nothing now but something WILL be at 1800 hours’
Bones: ‘Jim, is this a medical issue?’
Kirk: ‘You bet your boner it is, Bones’
Sulu: ‘Captain, a Klingon ship is approaching’
Kirk: ‘Blast that sucker to smithereens, I got a date’
Chekov: ‘Captain, you’ll need protection on this mission’
Kirk: No problem Ensign, got a few here in my wallet’
Obi-Wan Kenobi: ‘May the force be with you’
Kirk:’ Thanks Obi, but you’re in the wrong contest’
Obi-Wan Kenobi: ‘This isn’t PD’s contest?’
Kirk: ‘HELL no, now SKAT will probably disqualify us’
Obi-Wan Kenobi: ‘Well, may the force be with you anyway’
Kirk: ‘Look Kenobi, nobody’s forcing ANYBODY here’
Spock: ‘Captain, I’m receiving a message from SKATfleet Command’
Kirk: ‘What Mr. Spock? And why do you always talk like that?’
Spock: ‘To qualify for the contest, the writer has to command the ship’
Kirk: ‘Damn it all! What the…FRONT AND CENTER WRITER!’
Writer: ‘Um…All hands on deck?...Anchors away?’
Uhura: ‘Ohh Captain KIRRK, it’s 1800 hours’…
Kirk: ‘Not now Uhura, I’m not in the mood!’
Uhura: Ohh Captain WRITERRR, it’s 1800 hours’…
Writer: ‘Kirk, you have the helm. I’ll be in my quarters’
Spock: ‘Fascinating’
Kirk: ‘Shut-up Spock’…
Tim Ryerson
Theme: Sexual harassment in the workplace
For SKAT’s contest
Copyright © Tim Ryerson | Year Posted 2013
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Science Fiction Poem
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As I seize from greener pasture
Forgive me for taking away nature
lives have always been in vain
stopping them from breathing with pain
I toil never to hold my gun
with tears full of fun
The sleepless night became difficult
Because hunting was my cult
I regret taking away this joy of hunting
But not jolliness of killing
remembering the beautiful butterfly
and the choral singing of birds pass by
I never forget about the forest
even when I went to rest.
Copyright © Amin Tres | Year Posted 2008
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Science Fiction Poem
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When the night wind changes course
sending breezes from the north,
when farmer's fields lie brown and fallow
and empty ropes swing from the gallows,
when children's faces are drawn and gaunt
and earth-bound spirits wail and haunt,
when eagles scan the barren snow
and field mice shiver deep below,
The dragon stirs deep in his lair,
the townfolk sense him with despair,
the mountain rumbles as he wakes,
he spreads his wings, the valley quakes.
He snorts and breathes a sulphur fire
and eyes his cache with dark desire,
gold and gemstones line his cave,
a sea of diamonds with emerald waves.
The trees are black against the snow,
one warrior stands to face his foe,
chain mail clanking, his sword is honed,
he goes to face his fate alone.
Fire breathing, wing-spread vast,
the warrior is at first aghast,
the dragon's chest and stomach, too,
shine with gems of multi-hues.
He'd slept so long upon his loot,
he wore a jewel-encrusted suit.
He saw the warrior's weapon glint
and chuckled at this innocent.
The dragon swooped and breathed his breath,
the warrior smelled the scent of death.
Many times the dragon dove
and set aflame the fields and groves.
Lost in this game, he gave no thought
to the warrior who mattered naught,
and as the dragon flew by low
the warrior drew his mighty bow.
The bow and arrows were Elfen-hewn,
inscribed with words in ancient runes.
The warrior held his breath and aimed
and steeled himself against the flames.
The dragon saw the arrow cocked
and turned his head, their eyes were locked.
The arrow's flight was straight and true,
into the dragon's eye it flew.
The warrior was elected king,
he wore fine jewels and heavy rings,
but though he tried, he found no peace,
he'd formed some strange bond with the beast.
The corpse was plucked clean of its jewels
and all the people danced like fools,
though he was king of hill and glen,
they never saw him smile again.
Copyright © Danielle White | Year Posted 2008
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Science Fiction Poem
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There, among the Ruby Spires,
I stood a-gazing toward the mist,
The Red Wind cut skin, heaven-kissed,
Far too cold for Hades' fires.
Ages and eons behind me, then,
The joys of youth were swallowed, thus,
By wormholes, ranged and turned to dust,
All for the sake of gloried men.
Such an odyssey, we crossed
Three galaxies and matter, dark,
To find this rare and conscious spark
Of Life, (tho' life is what it cost).
Though I, their peerless proxy, was,
I felt no debt to human kind,
And through that struggle there, did bind,
A union true, of alien cause.
My own, a naught-but-violent race,
Had found these creatures far from home,
And sought to then rewrite their tome,
With our corrupt and vain disgrace.
Yet before we could our ruin, spread,
This planet's unseen chaperones,
Wreaked mortal plague on us alone,
'Til naught but I was cold and dead.
Then, those sentient souls and I,
Did journey up from mountain's base,
Until we met that jagged face,
With ruby columns to the sky.
To every side but one, we saw,
For endless breadth, the crimson sphere,
The vermilion glow, both far and near,
That wondrous planet's crystal maw.
The sparkling slopes of gemstone red,
That slanted down and out of sight,
Were being swallowed by the night,
And yet, no trail had shown ahead.
Far too late to turn around,
We gave our final fate its due,
That breathtaking red, exquisite view,
That few blessed eyes had ever found.
Such astounding visions we beheld,
That far exceeded all we knew,
That held us, transfixed, to that view,
With yearning that could not be quelled.
Colors that challenged conscious thought,
With light at angles inconceived,
Iridescence otherwise not believed,
Were we not breathless, on that spot.
The misty opalescent glow,
Refracting hues beyond compare,
Prismatic sparkles here-and-there,
That danced with flakes of scarlet snow.
Rainbow shafts of glistening light,
Swirling phosphorescent sprays,
Shimmering hues in broad displays,
That flashed and faded out of sight.
Palettes and shades we'd never seen,
Reflected beams from crystal shards,
The wondrous muse of godly bards,
Presented there for us alone.
Such vistas, no words can e'er construe,
A beauty that language does not appease,
That brought us, weeping, to our knees,
And left us shaken, through-and-through.
The consuming joy that view inspired,
Was known to only us who'd trade
Our lives for the sight, that covenant made,
There among the Ruby Spires.
** SECOND PLACE in the "Mountains Poetry Contest", Julie Rodeheaver, Sponsor. **
** THIRD PLACE in the "Fable Poetry Contest", Nayda Ivette Negron, Sponsor. **
Copyright © Gregory R Barden | Year Posted 2017
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Science Fiction Poem
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#1~Science Fiction~
humanity,
Is intelligent
plan based on the Bible?
***
#2~Inward Meditation~
knowledge, ego
during my lifetime
one question, Who Am I?
***
By;PD
Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2012
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Science Fiction Poem
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Until I see them
Frame me as a doubting Tom.
Once will be enough.
Until they see me
Friends I’ll never claim they are.
Otherwise, you’re nuts
Written By John Posey
04/17/13
Copyright © John Posey | Year Posted 2013
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Science Fiction Poem
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Along the mountain pine valley did the Iron Horse roar,
A steam belching black demon, burning red hot coals
Within it's steel belly.
Speed's hell bound creation, driven by greed's insatiable hunger,
Faster, faster it moves at acceleration rush, to
Achieve manifest destiny's final arrival on time.
In the distance hear another lone whistle blow, spitting,
And spewing with brimstone's gray smoke.
This indeed is the devil's train, carrying the forsaken,
To the depot of no return.
With a half empty payload aboard, Satan makes a deadly
Judgment call, stoke up those engines boys, ramming
Speed if you please.
Made man beasts are these mechanical monsters
Of destructions, lethal death weapons, chained
Down to the steel rails, and iron pikes.
Ebony stallion's racing against the winds,
As redden sparks sizzle and bite at the crisp autumn
Air, bellowing fumes poisoning the night.
The engineer of the 10; 15 out of Tombstone,
Checked his pocket watch, speaking impatiently,
He did so yell out, come along fellow's, we have a
Schedule to keep, and we've hours behind in our dead line,
So let’s pick up the pace.
Now the devil's train came out of know where,
With hell's supernatural master at the wheel,
Heckling, and laughing, relishing in the carnage’s
Utter calamity to come.
On a lone chewed up mangled piece of track,
Lies wreckages debris blood, flesh and twisted metal,
Lain stewned for miles beside the wild wilderness.
Broken bones, and sheared off limbs, weeping mother's
Cradling limp, lifeless bodies, crying why, God almighty
Why?
But the lord and heavenly father, had nothing to do,
With this unnatural disaster, nay the devil had many
Empty spaces to fill, and his passengers list was lean.
So he leveled the crimson ground with his dark gavel,
Taking souls at high velocities supernatural speed,
For this is the devil's ghost train, and it is so
Hell bound.
BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN
Copyright © cherl dunn | Year Posted 2014
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Science Fiction Poem
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Prince Sun summons lovingly his beautiful wife,
The princess who’s always shining at night in full, quarter or half;
Oh, my darling where have you been?
I’ve been to the park to watch the lovers’ kissing scene.
Where is Jupiter our beloved eldest son?
I’ve been busy shining all day long, I hope he’s around;
My love, he has just arrived and he’s big enough,
He can take care of himself especially at times get rough.
Here’s our daughter Saturn coming in,
She has grown into a pretty lady wearing her elegant ring;
Please remind her sometimes to focus on her dreams,
She might have fallen in love with an alien’s son that beams.
The Prince Sun makes a lovely role-call to everyone,
While his Solar Princess sits beside him wearing her luminous crown;
Uranus, Neptune, Mars and Earth saunter to their father
While youngest Venus and Mercury run quickly to their mother.
The Solar Family has finally reunited as one,
Children hold hand- in-hand… going round and round;
They merrily sing with joyful spirit of unity,
To exhibit a magnificent view in their residential galaxy.
Jan. 17, 2014 10.15 am
( I composed this poem a month ago for my kids’ fun club)
Second Place
Contest: Any Poem Goes #13
Judged: 3/16/14
Sponsor: Poet PD (my greatest & most fave)
Copyright © Galeo DS | Year Posted 2014
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Science Fiction Poem
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In the name of blood, for it is the source of life itself,
Plasma's crimson essence of liquid infusion, to the undead's
Pulsating heart.
Intravenously feeding cravings passion, through the carotid
Artery at the throat of humanity, thou'st not love, suffer
The pleasure indulge the pain, the out come shall be the same,
To be embraced by the black ebony arch angel of death,
Release thy darker side, let the instinctual behavior of the beast,
Know freedoms unshackling at last.
Become one of his sacred disciples, a creature of his dark dimension,
A kindred being, unto the legion of the night.
In the moon's elliptical light, shadows thus move from
Left to right, shifting as transparent figures, phantoms of
Illusions, taking winged flight, soaring on the currents
Of air mingling with their ancestral brethren, the vampire bat.
Run does not the lone wolf, along the side path next to man,
As we do so walk amongst them, yet never attempting to belong.
Oh are we not the a shunned, the accursed, by a God known
For his forgiveness, to love all living things under
Heaven, but for us this mightiest of lords, turns
His gaze away, not acknowledging our existence.
Our we not his lost sheep, missing from his flock, why
Does not this Sheppard seek this black lamb’s wool,
Is it too coarse for weaving's wheel, as it spins thus
And is it not said that he created all life within his image.
Nay I pray this vamperic prayer, why has he abandon
Us, the darker of his creations.
Behold the unascended, begging to enter beyond the gates
Of light, children of the lost are we, seeking a father blind
To his responsibility.
Harvesting, by the basic instincts given unto us,
Taking only what we need to survive, for this he has turned
Against us, and thus taking the light of day with him.
So my father of damnation's hell, has offered salvation's
Darker domain as a sheltering harbor of comfort, I will not
Abstain his patronage.
For I am the ashunned, living by the moonlight's haunting glow,
Yet yearning to see one last horizons sunset, but the Holy Father,
Hears not my humble vamperic prayer.
BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN
Copyright © cherl dunn | Year Posted 2014
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Science Fiction Poem
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Split apart your ribcage,
Open up the corridor, and let me come in
Uneasiness instantly strikes through me
Let me sway away...
Let me flutter away...
Like a butterfly out of its cocoon
I'm trapped!Let me depart
Split apart your ribcage,
Unwrap me, let me go!
Believe me...reflect on me
Let me sway away...flutter away
Let us both seek the sun,
So we can grow together once more
Copyright © JW Earnings | Year Posted 2010
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Science Fiction Poem
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A beautiful heart pines from afar.
To parallel freedom, we choose our master.
In Love, the Dragon and Unicorn are!
Celestial winged heart beats faster,
Over mountain and ocean meet polar eyes.
To parallel freedom, we choose our master.
Embarking from sun brewed and moonshine skies
Two alien races, in war, collide.
Over mountain and ocean meet polar eyes.
All brothers' swords raise, marching with pride.
Sisters of heaven let feathers fly.
Two alien races, in war, collide.
The angered clouds rain blood from the sky.
A new path finally found.
Sisters of heaven let feathers fly.
Brothers' swords low now to the ground.
A beautiful heart pines from afar.
A new path finally found.
In Love, the Dragon and Unicorn are!
In universe
Out bound energy
Where are we when we die?
Copyright © Edward McCormick | Year Posted 2013
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Science Fiction Poem
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Deep in the earth, a crypt of rock
slumber guarded by casket locked
Lips grope silence ‘ever more
rasping thought, remembers whispered lore
Outstretched palms the roots do clench
tranquility stilled by festered stench
And eyes, sleep caked, are propped ajar
ignites no life, but collapsed star
Burned blades sigh, Winds’ dying gasp
bones brittle snap within her clasp
A lonesome howl the moon does draw
vigil broken, it twists its maw
Upon an arena of endless stone
the granite gates they’ve passed alone
And entered a world of burning eyes
eluded the judge of smoldering cries
A faultless gait, no stumbled draw
a reaping brought by scythe and claw
Opal edge which shrouds a cause
aberrant blade shapes nature’s laws
Dictate a script, the stars can share
an open secret, a language bare
Steps continue, feet are drawn
across gray grass, undying pawn
Copyright © Avery Swarthout | Year Posted 2015
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Science Fiction Poem
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Leonard Nimoy (Mr Spock),
His music career quite ad hoc,
Sang of Bilbo in sixty eight,
With his fringe still Vulcan straight.
Copyright © Sharon Smith | Year Posted 2013
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Science Fiction Poem
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There was a Starship Enterprise,
It was the ruler of the skies,
But you don't really care for sci-fi, do you?
With Captain Kirk
And Mr Spock
And don’t forget the trademark jock,
And there upon the bridge you’ll find Uhura
Oh Uhura, Oh Uhura
Oh Uhura, Oh Uhura
You’ll find Bones Macoy down in sickbay,
“I’m a doctor Jim” he’d say,
And cure whatever space bug ran through you,
He’ll banish away every cough,
Even if your name’s Chekov,
Or perhaps you might be sweet Uhura
Oh Uhura, Oh Uhura
Oh Uhura, Oh Uhura
To make the starship up and go,
The man you really need to know,
Is the Helm officer called Sulu,
But if it’s a message you’d like to send,
Then of course you can depend,
Upon the talented Miss Uhura,
Oh Uhura, Oh Uhura
Oh Uhura, Oh Uhura
Your voyage lasted three short years
But despite the trekkie’s fears,
It wouldn’t be the last time that we’d view you,
Of feature films there’d be twelve,
Before the franchise they would shelve,
But we won’t forget you dear Uhura
Oh Uhura, Oh Uhura
Oh Uhura, Oh Uhura
Oh Uhura, Oh Uhura
Oh Uhura, Oh Uhura
Oh Uhura
Copyright © Sharon Smith | Year Posted 2013
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Science Fiction Poem
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Listen to poem:
Sagan grins from a Pale Blue Dot
As LCROSS finds water in Cabeus.
Is Su Shih's bright moon finally told --
Echoed by Dickinson's moon of gold?
Did Armstrong sit in contemplation
O'er cheesy man-in-the-moon inspiration
By Yeats, Coleridge, Thomas (Dylan) and Shelley;
Li Po, Longfellow, Whitman and Lindsay?
Under Moore's young moon of May we're planting
Bamboo groves in moonbeams slanting.
Moonrise to moonset, across dead rivers --
Elvis and Emily share moon-rock shivers.
To Sandburg's moon of harvest silver,
Wells used Cavorite (but just a sliver).
Now, listen as the Selonites motion --
Whispering of Earth and its teeming blue ocean.
While I, wild moon-child, begin to spool
By the light of Merritt's Lovecraftian Pool:
"Moon-water shall be the death of me
This year."
Copyright © Tom Arnone | Year Posted 2016
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Science Fiction Poem
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Soon the curious swelled to a mob.
as they gathered to gape at the glob.
Someone prods with a stick.
as another screams: " Quick!"
"We must run for our lives! It's the Blob!"
Copyright © Gerard Keogh Jr. | Year Posted 2010
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Science Fiction Poem
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TIME MACHINE
We always try to build a TARDIS,
in thinking we would look the smartest.
But then, who's time would we travel in,
with a choice for dimensional spin.
A fragrance can take us back in time,
or a perfect shade, or taste of lime.
Our famed music is a time machine,
in compositions from Bach to Queen.
We recognize how to bring time to a halt,
by following our bliss in things we exalt.
New experiences will let us foresee,
advancing in time with our visions to be.
The Hubble is a magical eye on time,
to take the photographs of our one verse rhyme.
A brief look backwards beginning now to then,
or from nothing to something and back again.
Our future is such addictive dope,
we read in tea leaves or horoscope.
We expect we are aware with ESP,
and predict in life what's meant to be.
We're back in time with old photographs,
that mark pasts, in graphic epitaphs.
A sound will transport us to a place,
with one vibration we've moved in space.
We future trek with our imaginations,
because we see forward with our creations.
In our minds eye, we consider and admire,
with envisioned futures of our hearts desire.
By TARDIS, DeLorean, or a Quantum Leap,
Tesseract, CERN, and our Visions in sleep.
Through a Wormhole or the traces of a déjà vu,
the past and the future, are present with you.
By Edlynn Nau
©June 23, 2016
Copyright © Edlynn Nau | Year Posted 2016
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Science Fiction Poem
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It is 2012 within the season of autumn in that year.
Humankind knows not whether to be sad or cheer.
A new sphere arrived; they call it planet kunzite.
In an orbit opposite of earth, aligned perfectly right.
Was it our doom, or salvation we awaited a sign.
Upon the next moon, our answer came so divine.
Planet kunzite was to be our new home to live.
To go in peace and harmony with only love to give,
No more wars or anger for any human to spread,
In the stars surrounding, words are there to be read.
Kunzite a jewel for everyone, especially new born,
So upon each morning a new greeting shall adorn.
Copyright © cecil hickman | Year Posted 2010
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Science Fiction Poem
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(based on Aldous Huxley's book "Brave New World")
Human hatchery
Clink clink clink clink...
Test tubes prattling past
along the chrome plated production line.
Glistening under fake fluorescence
humming in harmony
with the magnetic motors
of conveyors, centrifuges and camshafts.
Biological blobs of gamete goo,
vials of vile biology,
a tempest of sperm and ova,
neatly confined to a pyrex womb.
Organised, sanitised, harmonised.
Fordist fertilisation.
All equal under Ford.
Or at least until your fate and fortune
are forced and fixed at forty metres.
Not nature (abhorrent),
not nurture (disgusting),
not what you know,
not who you know,
but the viability of your cell.
Destiny by DNA.
What will you be?
An Alpha Aryan?
A Gamma gopher?
A mass produced Epsilon?
Will you be genetically enhanced?
Or poisoned and asphyxiated?
Perhaps you'll be discarded
as excess bio-matter
by the second trimester
at ninety metres?
Or survive to be hatched
at one fifty metres?
Neatly sown along furrows
of sterile steel cots.
Rows and columns,
ranks and files,
levels and floors
of battery babies.
Chemically conditioned,
weaned on sleep whispering,
embracing their place in a perfect society.
United by soma!
(a gram is better than a damn)
Disease designed away!
All praise Ford!
Everyone is happy!
But nothing is perfect.
Bernard is cursed.
Excess embryonic alcohol
injected at one twenty metres.
Someone wasn't paying attention.
Industrial accident.
Disruptive misfit.
Unhappiness.
Beta's hypnopedic haikus
Alphas lead the way
Grey matter, grey uniform
Alphas rule wisely
Betas work less hard
Mulberry clad skilled workers
Glad I'm a Beta
Gammas are stupid
Wearing green! Ugly as trees!
Ignore the Gammas
Deltas are dummies
Khaki clones, oxygen starved
Bokanovsky batch
Epsilon primates
Brutish, black robed underclass
Disposable drones
John's suicide soliloquy
To be or not to be?
I cannot be.
So I decide not to be.
How can I be noble and suffer
the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune
when the arrows have been broken
and the slings put aside
by this ugly utopia?
Should I shuffle off this mortal coil
and enter the eternal sleep
perchance to dream without soma?
Will I enter paradise
paid for many fold
with barb wire and thorns,
with torments and trials,
with utter utter heartbreaking longing?
What sense does this make
when paradise lies at my feet
that I've not suffered enough to deserve?
How can I earn the love
of the woman I love
when she gives her love so freely
to myself and others who scantly earn
the meerest slither of her golden fruit?
Love so sweet to the lips
but diluted by banality and promiscuity
to the tasteless sterility of boiled water.
Yet I still yearn.
And when I attain my unimagined dream
I reject her with anger
and sow the seeds of confusion
in her innocent eyes
and watch the weeds of fear
choke her very essence.
What demons have hatched from my soul?
What has this world manufactured in my heart?
And so I seek solace in solitude.
A lonely lighthouse keeper
in a stormless sea of soma civilisation.
Absolution with abject poverty,
the stings of self flagellation
barely noticed against my rented heart.
The madness of mixed up mantras.
Yet retribution comes from a hornet's nest
of helicopters carrying the inane.
Spectators of the spectacle.
Curious about the curiosity.
Fascination with the forbidden.
Cultures sparking across electrodes.
Moths drawn to taboo's acetylene flame.
I curse them! I curse them all!
I was born savage, then made savage.
Marooned on Prospero's isle
by insanity's tempest.
I can brew and boil
and billow and burn
and cast down purifying bolts against the outside world.
One asylum to another.
Never knowing peace.
O brave new world, that has such people in it.
But this world is not for me.
Notes:
BNW society is divided into five major classes. From highest to lowest: alpha, beta, gamma, delta, epsilon
Original BNW quote - sleep conditioning for Betas - "Alpha children wear grey. They work much harder than we do, because they're so frightfully clever. I'm really awfully glad I'm a Beta, because I don't work so hard. And then we are much better than the Gammas and Deltas. Gammas are stupid. They all wear green, and Delta children wear khaki. Oh no, I don't want to play with Delta children. And Epsilons are still worse. They're too stupid to be able to read or write. Besides they wear black, which is such a beastly colour. I'm so glad I'm a Beta."
Bokanovsky is a fictional process of human cloning - https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bokanovsky%27s_Process
Hypnopedia is the process of sleep learning - https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sleep-learning
Gametes are cells used in reproduction (sperm and ova) - https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gamete
Soma is a drug mass produced by the BNW government - citizens are sleep conditioned to become addicted
"a gram is better than a damn" is a BNW mantra used by its citizens to encourage non-conformists (i.e. are unhappy) to take soma
John was a savage rescued from a reservation by Bernard Marx for his own political agenda.
Bernard Marx was a physically and mentally imperfect Alpha misfit reportedly caused by excess alcohol injected into his embryo during his hatching.
John's soliloquy is a parody of Shakespeare's "to be or not to be" soliloquy from Hamlet. Since John learnt to read from an old copy of Shakespeare's works, this seemed appropriate.
In BNW, Henry Ford is revered as a god - the Christian cross is replaced with a T (as in the model T Ford, an early affordable mass produced car).
Written 10th April 2017
Entry to "brave new world" contest
Copyright © Mark Martin | Year Posted 2017
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Science Fiction Poem
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Just imagine
In a millennium from now
The dreams we have
That our minds plough
As us humans evolve
Into what is unknown
Will our future dreams
Be able to be shown
Just think
Before we awake
Our dreams are saved
For us to remake
We sit down
Before a white wall
Open our eyes
As our dreams befall
To have the power
To control our dreams
Wake the next day
Our personal live stream
I think our mind
Is in its infancy
If we hang around
Maybe we'll see?
Copyright © James Fraser | Year Posted 2009
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Science Fiction Poem
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A slow, painful waking to a vessel that's shaking from the stress of its increasing mass,
And at once I'm made sure that it's all premature, for I should yet be sleeping, and fast.
Why I've not been kept deep in my long cryo-sleep, is a troubling notion, indeed,
For it's ten light-years' span to the world where we plan to propagate our human seed.
The cryo's defect is a slow reconnect, with my senses still frozen and bare,
Yet I need my devices to discover the crisis, and keep safe the lives in my care.
I fight what's still left of the cryopod's deft reduction of all that I'm feeling,
Grab food from the fridge, stumble off to the bridge, the emergency sirens still pealing.
I at once raise the shield from the ship's forward field, and I stare straight ahead at what's wrong,
A bright purple spark in a nebula, dark, that is almost a full parsec long!
The shapes and the colors remind me of Mueller's "Two Girls" and his fine Gypsy lasses,
Lush watercolor hues of soft greens and blues, all the products of eddying gases.
It is beautiful, yes, but I do not need guess what the center is, blackened as coal,
What no light could pass through, a SINGULARITY, true, and one that would swallow us whole.
Too fast was our rate, we could not navigate 'round the nebulous dark 'twas our curse,
And our increasing mass was now too much to pass by a course we could safely traverse.
I thought, for a piece, we might try to increase the reaction at the core of our drive,
But with more anti-matter, we were apt to just splatter in a vortex we could not survive.
If we had greater distance, or some added resistance, we might slow and alter our course,
But we were too near to the black hole to veer, and being pulled in by its force.
The process, one-sided, baryogenesis provided, made our futile spot very dire,
And without the ship slowing, we were quickly now going from the frying pan into the fire.
We could not stay pointed on the course now anointed, or we'd soon meet our end there in space,
Yet we couldn't slow down, or change course to go 'round the black hole that now stared in our face.
Big on heroes, I'm not, but we DID have a shot, though a slim one, I must admit now,
I would use, (beg the term), a thing called a "worm" hole, if our increased mass would allow.
I poured three libations and did calculations required for bending the void,
Then tossed back each one, toasted daughters and son, and the ship that I'd apt leave destroyed.
I blessed the crew's slumbers and entered the numbers, hesitated at "Enter" a smidge,
And breathing a sigh, (whilst I covered one eye), I launched the command from the bridge ...
BOOOOOOOOOOOOM!!!
Well ... what happened next has left me perplexed, as I'm not on the ship, nor with crew,
But it must've gone well, cuz I'm still here to tell YOU the story ... now isn't that true?
I'm not on the lam, but just where I AM, is the puzzle I'm working on now,
For without ship and crew there's not much I can do, but try to get homeward, somehow.
Deep space, can I span it from here on this planet? (Though it seems to be one I can roam) ...
Ah yes, now, if only I wasn't so lonely, for the blue marble that I call ...
HOME.
** 7th Place in the "Jamie's Interesting Contest 2" Poetry Contest, Jamie Pan, Sponsor, Topic - The Speed of Light. **
Copyright © Gregory R Barden | Year Posted 2017
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Science Fiction Poem
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Me and Me
Thoughts on the cloning of a human being
There’s a me and a clone of me and if we meet,
Then how do we know which me is me and which
The other; and if I think I am me then am
I the other me, or is he someone else?
Me and me: just imagine if there was a you and you;
And if you and me and clone of me and clone of you
All met at once, would we (collectively us) sort ourselves
Into you-s and me-s that matched?
And, just suppose, the you and me that I think is
Me and you, turns out to be me and clone of you;
Would we know and would we care, or can we
Carry on just like you and me?
AND, and just suppose, through devices strange and
Technical, I could add an X and drop a Y and make
Of me a she, then (I’m sure it’s legal) if I mate with me
(OK – my clone), would I then give birth to me?
Copyright © Edward Clapham | Year Posted 2015
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Science Fiction Poem
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...A poem
is a spoon
that you can bend
with your mind.
It depends on psi
if you
are mutant
X or Y
a paranormal opportunity
or a wild talent
of psionic penmanship .
Stare at the pattern
on the handle
as you imagine
the handle
either roses or unicorns
are emblazon here.
So much the better
as your mind
bends the words
and the metal obeys...
Spoon begins to tremble
there is no knife
to run away with.
Then comes
the period
like an empty plate.
to contain
a bent spoon
with squeezed letters...
Copyright © Andrew Rymill | Year Posted 2012
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Science Fiction Poem
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Conquering alien
amidst human flu outbreak
fled earth contagious
Conquering alien
ooze influenza sickness
left earth alone
Copyright © Leslie Arbogast | Year Posted 2005
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