Long Alternate universe Poems
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Checking out our Halloween faces
We are simply happy to be in good graces
The ghosts are out, and they are laughing like loons.
I see the beauty of both of our harvest moons.
Yes, this is an alternate universe with extra stuff.
We have scarecrows that roar, and lions that are never rough.
We have witches and goblins, but they go trick-or-treat.
We see it all happen on this planet with a beat.
There is music flowing and words are prancing.
Halloween parties with candy, and horses are dancing.
Check out our Halloween faces. We are excited to be.
Part of this alternative October Halloween reality.
Alternate Reality (MJH 17 April ’18)
Maybe in an alternate universe,
Where good is bad and better’s worse,
I could be you, you could be me,
Together apart, sadly happy.
You’d pursue me, I’d flee from you.
Yes you’d pursue me and I’d flee from you,
‘cause I know that I’d be caught by you.
Perhaps in a wondrous macrocosm,
We’d share everything in common.
You’d finish things I’d start to say,
But we’d laugh about it anyway.
Time would not be our enemy.
No, time would never be our enemy-
I’d be part of you; you’d be part of me.
By chance there is another dimension
Beyond earthly comprehension
Where past, present and future blend;
Time has no beginning nor end.
I’d say “I love you” with laughter.
Yes I would say “I love you” with laughter—
Said so before, will say so after.
In some hypothetical reality,
Beyond conceptuality,
Where nothing is circumstantial--
Matter’s almost insubstantial.
Separate bodies, united minds-
Yes, separate bodies and united minds-
Our souls forever intertwined
I closed my eyes to break all the laws,
All the laws of physics and natural philosophy.
I wanted to travel faster than light,
Go back hundreds of years, and do it with no technology.
I closed my eyes and talked gravity with Newton,
Talked about spectrums, inertia, and calculus.
We ate an apple at Trinity, dressed in grand blue and red robes
That were beautiful, noble and fabulous.
But then I thought about how neat this power was,
To travel, meeting whomever in any old year.
So I went back further, eyes closed tight, to 1601,
And talked about Hamlet with William Shakespeare.
I asked “Why does he drag his feet so long,
So long to avenge his father’s killer?”
He picked up a beer and idly said “He had bipolared ego,
Besides, I needed to write a thriller.”
Then I thought of other rules I could break,
So I travelled to the middle of the deepest black hole.
It was amazingly theatrical, the swirling bright everything,
It most certainly had its own soul.
Then I was in an alternate universe,
With an earth, a moon and a sun.
And on this planet sweet love, it was everywhere,
Enough love for you, and me, and everyone.
If breaking laws of physics leads to love, joy and happiness,
And millions of crazy butterflies.
Then I think I might enjoy travelling more often,
Just doing it by closing my eyes.
Donald Duck Chancellor of this fowl kingdom
wearing an upside down smile's raging hypocrite backwards
this deranged Duck twitters to and fro as his unhinged subjects
unwittingly applaud him onto a victory march that never appears equal
except in his alternate universe of oneness
Calamity Jane perchance is on the horizon
while war looms close by this feathers pride himself
on his big show asking for a mirror to check his orange glow
he jokes and preens fading in and out so it would seem logical
tearing down all good morals he alienates with his constant magic escapades
Sleight of hand reflections move
with this fake news it gets exposed
the big top rotates under an eclipsed lie
fire breathing condemning all those against his way
entering the arena for the next late show
Now Big Bird has been caught fibbing
just when they thought everyone was safe
getting off the band wagon or so to speak
Just signing the pact with her feathered friend
letting on they are getting on so well for the world to see buddies
Almost joined at the hip like in their loyalty reigning over truth
in this ungodly circus of the vainest sort
Where the funfair clowns abound
under fabrications an orangutan watches on
beating his chest in an ape like manner and solid hands
he has no way to express words
puffing and panting swaggers
living under thee umbrella protected from the truth’s influence
Alvin and his chipmunks sing the national anthem
while the confederate flag waves goodbye over democracy
begins the three little pigs stages as they enter the building
their houses from clay flamed with truth
ransomed for vanities sake no good ending can come
Earthquakes separate the earth
floods come with grave disaster
hurricanes winds rise from the greatest source
even this cannot deter or distract this awful Duck
one mission under a selfish chant of
quack a doodle quack, quack a doodle quack, quack a doodle quack
which only translates to me
only me, me only me, me only me!
a co written piece by Donna Loughman and Liam McDaid
I Wish you could see Me
Back Then,
Filled With Silence
Unheard and Unafraid.
Voices then knew no Shouting
Feelings were not something to be escaped.
In such world of closeness
I was in;
A alternate universe it seems,
I wish you could see
the first steps I had taken,
hitting to the
fallbacks I didn’t Believe.
Those tears which were not
carried forever in the heart,
those lonely smiles for
timeless situations I was a part.
I wish you Could See Me back then ,
Amidst those wilderness of dawn.
Filled with Present
and Working Hard.
I wish you could Know me
Better than I am ;
straight through my Eyes
of the enduring past.
I wish you could see Me
walking by
Those empty streets,
escaping those busy roads.
Coz that’s where I come from
and persona I truly belong.
I wish you could meet Me
from the time back then.
I've always been attracted to the other world.
You know, the world in between life and death.
The one you always see out of the corner of your eye.
Was always that little girl who wanted to be someplace.
Someplace more exciting than the place I was standing.
I always knew there was something more exciting waiting.
More exciting than where I was standing, new adventures.
Where the stardust falls at midnight, with sunrise delight.
World of whispers and flickering shadows in the moonlight.
Where the fairies and frogs and fireflies dance all night.
I call it my consensual reality in my alternate universe.
Come, take my hand, the land of enchantment is waiting.
It was always ok that I was the only one that believed.
Believed in the unseen world of the magical light beings.
I see the gargoyles conversing with the pigeons high up.
Sometimes they wink at me as they turn back to stone.
They pretend that way, so no one will catch on to them.
Trouble with magick is most people don't believe in it.
Though I'm sure they could if they kept hold of dreams.
And childlike natures and the innocents of childhood.
They don't believe in what's buried deep down inside.
If you tried, I know you could see just what I see.
Fairies with rainbow colored wings fly against the sun.
Or dancing along the milky way in the pale moonlight.
And the shoemaker's magick shop is where they live.
They are always delighted when you come for a visit.
12:30am 3/ 3 2013
I wrote this as I was waiting for my daughter Jessie to come home from bowling.
Poet don’t feel right
Poet struggles sleeping at night
POETS NEVER SLEEP
At least…that’s what other poets keep telling me
But this lackluster slumbering just might be
From the unwavering weight of all responsibility
Poet only seems awake while walking through daydreams
Only wants to live life lavished in imagination
Painting alternate universes in which the stars guide me
An alternate universe in which i am happy
The moon and its tides constantly aligned
An alternate universe in which my artistry arrives unagonized
An alternate universe already constructed by someone else
An alternate universe in which contains an atmosphere in which I can breathe in which should be the one I’m in now
But my nervous system glitches,
Spine tinges spitting gibberish
Jittering shaky legs racing while staying stationary
Amazed at the way
A stage shakes me
In vibrations
At least its safe to say I said something today
Shared a story shoved, cornered in a junk drawer
At least I keep poetry in motion
only productive when my mind’s flowing
But I know my audience
I know they’re only hearing my poet voice
They only see my tragedies rehashed in romantics
There's only so many ways to manipulate the pain staked
in my chest in my throat in my head
So I choke on my raw truth
so it’s more digestible
for everybody else in the room
If not on the page,
Where is a tortured artists’ pain safe?
Paper scrapes
Psalms
Poems
Cutting deep enough
For me to bleed enough
For you to envision the misery
I’m in
Some alternate universe in which I am not a poet
Instead,
I am illiterate at the expense of my own pen and tongue
Instead, I await the unarriving;
Bleeding out without any sign of rescue
Instead, I plagiarize my inhabitance to a world
constructed by everyone except myself
Instead,
I am here
Earth rotates
Everything else still
I am still
Here.
Imagine an alternate universe, one born in the reverse rhythm of our own Big Bang.
In this cosmos, the arrow of time flows backward, not as a regression but as an elegant symmetry, a dance of retreating possibilities.
Galaxies do not expand into the void but instead coalesce, condensing into radiant singularities, the luminous echoes of futures we can never reach.
Here, light emerges only to fold inward, its journey truncated before it graces the expanse.
It is a universe hidden from us not by distance alone, but by the very nature of its existence—its glow always arriving too late, its truths eternally just beyond our grasp.
Yet, even unseen, such a realm invites awe.
It suggests that reality is not a single thread but a cosmic loom, weaving countless tapestries in both directions of time.
It is a humbling thought, a reminder that the cosmos, vast and intricate, may hold infinities we can sense only in the whispers of our dim imagination.
The women sing songs to the moon,
Praising its beauty.
They dance and sing when it’s in its full glow,
Their souls ascending and descending,
Transformed into priestesses.
The men venture into the forest at twilight every fortnight.
There, an unveiling and a revealing take place.
The spirits commune with them in the tranquil ambience,
Warning them about any impending danger,
Sharing mysteries that are soon to enter their territory.
The men become gifted watchmen.
Something astonishing happens with the sun.
At midday, it beams its rays on a vast meadow,
Where the plants are exuberantly green.
These are called the Blessed Bloom,
An elixir of vitality and rejuvenation.
The atmosphere is clean and fresh.
There is no conflict between humans and machines,
No exploitation of nature,
No encroaching on her space.
The leash has not taken the lead.
I asked to know where I am,
And I met a stranger who looked familiar.
He said I’m in an unsoiled place,
An unaltered place,
An alternate universe.
April 8, 2025.
Checking out our Halloween faces
We are simply happy to be in good graces
The ghosts are out, and they are laughing like loons.
I see the beauty of both of our harvest moons.
Yes, this is an alternate universe with extra stuff.
We have scarecrows that roar, and lions that are never rough.
We have witches and goblins, but they go trick-or-treat.
We see it all happen on this planet with a beat.
There is music flowing and words are prancing.
Halloween parties with candy, and horses are dancing.
Check out our Halloween faces. We are excited to be.
Part of this alternative October Halloween reality.