Short Mons Poems

Albedo feature
An edifice of great height
Is Olympus Mons




http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/space.php...

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A girl on the tip of my tongue
Wants to swing while she is still young
She went on Facebook
The lads had a look
And now its her phone that's well hung...

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There once was a man from Le Mons
Who thought he had life in his palms
But his wife disagreed
And challenged his creed
So now he knows that he was wrong...

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.

              me

             mine
              my marauding mons

            mostly 
          morningz

   maybe midnights 
             mm...

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.

      her haunch in concert
dangling from her belly's taut 
               
               hern hips
           lifting     mons
                   her            
                moves




...

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Mars, red as the blood-
Left in the wake of your namesake.
Home ofOlympus Mons highest of all peaks.
And Valles Marineris, deepest canyon.
Most likely to house water or life.
Maybe one day you will house our dying race.
Accompanied by your two moons
Panic and Dread.
Your surface rusted red.
Will the Martian race one day come to conquer us.
Or will we conquer your hostile surface first.
Only time will tell....

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Saving credits for a trip to the stars,
A cave at Alba Mons volcano:
Ancient secrets, flowing bars;
Greenish women, so Bueno;
Artifacts, old, Martian,
Calling me to hug.
Beetle auction.
Red dust bug.
Big brained,
Life,
Love.
Misplaced
Mementos
Belonging to
Polka-dot fellows
Sexy ladybugs knew.
A rust-colored threesome
In waters that ran chilled and new;
But, air-thinned with delirium,
And a dusty marriage Mars did eschew....

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What that woman needs:
 a top, 
spinning, 
without a mons seat center-
goddess ,no one knows- 
he him , 
hiker]make flared nostril breeze 
in some [how?!] now drunk nose.- 
next day [Ray] sit tug wrapper ,
i t was wrapped], it was wrapped before
bring knife oil, - Velveta[overkill]
[Aquavelva land] Olay and beach[sand]
beach-blanket family[ergo again] 
	egos. 
azure sky,  
no planes on high 
cept drug dump double jet 
from bath-hungry  Belize....

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If I was

The Mons Lisa

Having every day to awaken 

Unto a seemingly endless chorus line of 
critic's

Displayed as a center piece of art
adorned on a museum wall

Listening to each and everyone of them 

Wish in some small part to sum the
essence of her being up

By simply believing what is perceived at
first to be a Smile

May just as easily in fact not be

A Smile after all

We only see what we want to see

The rest our minds block out...

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