The still silence echoes around your eyes;
dreadful ghosts of blank stares that come
to life to haunt the living from high places
shackled by time's sensual embrace. Wait
for me under the hangman's bridge at dusk
Sophi'a's eyelids fall on Betelgeuse, blazing
lanterns leading the way to the place that no
man has returned from. I left the venom in my
veins, march through the pain, reformed in her
flame; the Hieròn Palátion crumbled at dusk
****
Gloria jumped off my shoulder,
we danced in the kitchen
Tina stepped from behind me,
we asked Sophi'a to listen
Oh, joy! at the night sky
And the wonder it declares.
How flirtatious! How they flare -
The many stars on high!
There's Castor and Pollux
And Rigel and Betelgeuse
And look! - Aldebaran bids adiós
As he swaggers west.
That big orange star,
on the top left of Orion
Could burst into supernova,
at any given time
Betelgeuse is the name,
and soon it’s going up in flames
Will be seen within our daylight,
for a whole year til it wanes
The Orion constellation,
shall grow a glimmering shoulder
Pumped and magnificent
like Sisyphus’s boulder
And two millennia since,
the last nova said goodby
A brilliant new star of Bethlehem,
could well fill the sky
So what then for mankind,
will it be the second coming
Or another moon overhead,
dazzlingly stunning
A revelation nonetheless,
shall caress upon this earth
And wise men will observe in awe,
to a superstars birth
* an agnostic view of life *
By David Kavanagh
i once woke up and ate the bones in a tomb deep in
the sunken eyes of a faded god
the faded eyes of a sunken god
a
sunken
n
g
e
l
in the red water in the ghastly trenches at the pit of the universe
opening his mouth, screaming silence in sprite bubbles
on their way to each corner of this one plane
where selfless means not having a self
he once fell off the bleachers in gym class and broke off his jaw
it was hanging by a noose from the roof of his coffin
his neck twisted and blood falling from his mouth like he had eaten Betelgeuse and a wormhole formed in his spine
a distorted face peeling open like the paint of a doll
revealing plastic ball-jointed pieces
gnawing mechanically in spirals
he once pulled up to my house in a holographic Dodge Charger
and asked me if i wanted to dry swallow crystal balls with him
his license plate read “666”
and right beneath it was a bumper sticker that read “Try God. 101.7.”
i remembered it like it was tomorrow
i cried but only flesh came out
so i shook it off like a dog and went far away to die
Into the solar system
Outreaching myself
Intense grief, mourning
Into cake and wedding dress
Galvanized poorly, the rust
About to topple into ochre
Coated stardust glittering
As we discover the truth
Not enough good, oh but for better
For worse, for years, for a fool
Like me and her, a mirror image
A replacement, a damnation
Creeping over stocking tops
There is not enough bleach in the world
To coat the filthy soul you smuggle
Into orbit, my anger now exceeding
The speed of light, the Titanic
To the iceberg, one way trip
A government secret, a conspiracy
Anything at all to wipe away your guilt
And stardust glittering on her face
Leaving retched little Laika to
Smother in the agony of ignorance
Huddle with me for precious warmth
How I could set a man on fire
The tongue is sharp, cutting through
The web of lies, deceit, conterfeit
Forgiveness plagiarized in pamphlets
Set across the universe, the guilt
You should be feeling, burning up in Betelgeuse
Oh for heavens and constellations spell it out
Every dog has their day, but some draw the shortest of the straws
Christie MOSES is a great poetess.
Her pen MOVES with great finesse.
For her MORES in poetic verse,
Are like MOREL mushrooms immersed;
Sautéed MOTEL hot delicacies;
Ice cold HOTEL chilled daiquiris.
Relate a HOVEL to nice accommodations,
Is like a NOVEL with poor adaptations.
For my NAVEL hurts when I laugh,
By the GAVEL of laughter’s wrath.
I try to RAVEL all that I have learned,
But the RIVEL of my broken heart burns.
Orion’s RIGEL, Bellatrix, and Betelgeuse,
And PS’s NIGEL and Christie are my muse.
Inspired by Nigel Fawcett / Christie Moses...Word Morph Contest
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