Circles around the moon

Wake me when the world ends.
Kill the afterburners and shake me from sleep.
Wipe the dust from my interstellar eyes that have cried, huge cosmic tears.
Flooding the seas.
The dinosaurs within me perished eons ago.
Locked in tar along with childhood dreams of safety.
I staggered lonely in the skeletons of dead monsters.
Picking scales and truths from my worn down teeth.
Fossilised friendships blur past like a comet across my horizon.
Shrivelled on the vine of life, though some plucked too soon.
Dip these eyelashes in turquoise to bejewel our gaze.
Ruby up my mind with a blood of a million dead stars.
Hold a steady distance from the lunar madness.
Carving out cheese for the space monkeys.
Still on the payroll.
I spot you on the surface, with buckets of moon dust and a beckoning hand.
Initiate all power and steer my soul away.
Crying once more as the tears pop around me like bubbles.
Watching the world collapse and the memories fold away.
Locked in the lunar orbit forever.
Making circles around the moon.

A Place in the stars

(Not part of, but in conjunction with ‘Echoes in space’)

Lots of people were afraid. Rationale and irrational fears grew like ivy in the cluttered world he lived in. As Jerimiah grew up, he found fear was just a pat of life. His sister had always been afraid of spiders. Snakes too, though spiders were a more every day hazard, bringing out an alarming response from her no matter who was around. He never forgot the day she found one in her bed when she was going to sleep, the screams had echoed down into the street making the dogs in the neighbour’s yard bark. They had shared a bedroom in the old house then, out of necessity more than anything else. It wasn’t until he was five years old that he had a room of his own. Of course, this came with the collapse of his parent’s marriage and he would have traded in a second the large bedroom at his father’s house, for the pokey one he shared with his sister. At least that way they would still be together. But people, like marriages collapse. His sister departing only a year into his larger bedroom life, not from a spider attack, but from the leukaemia that had corroded her from the inside.

Jerimiah was afraid of one thing, and one thing only. He was afraid of time. How it snuck in on him and those he loved. Snatching away those things, and people he held dear. Turning, tumbling and changing his little world that he would want to keep secret and safe under a bell jar. He would look up into the night’s sky and see the stars blinkering above him. Fixed into position like reliable Christmas lights, always there like the season, waiting to bring joy. It wasn’t until he was much older that he learned the true nature of space. The twirling chaos that attacked the cosmos, with everything in flux. But for that six year boy within him still, he would always see safety and security in the stars. His friends that were always there like jewels in black cement.

Jerimiah though was understanding about people’s fears. He understood why his sister had been afraid of spiders. How her mind would run with a thousand possibilities of what could happen, and the deathly mist that surrounded them and the poisonousness possibilities. Much like he understood people’s fear of flying. He had met an old lady on a flight to Rome once before, sitting in the aisle seat next to him. She was so afraid, her white knuckles had gripped onto the armrest for the duration of the flight, her eyes closed as if in silent prayer to keep her aloft, and to land safely in the eternal city. He had wondered what she was so desperate to live for, what in her life was she so afraid of losing. One’s death being usually a horrible climax of pain and distress, but momentary. What was she so afraid of not completing? What had her life really been about?

He had sat there himself on that small plane, thousands of miles above the French Alps, watching the snow-capped peaks shimmering in the sun. If they were to descend; collapse in a fiery demise and be strewn in wreckage across the snowy landscape, what was he missing out on? What in his life was he left to accomplish or leave behind? He would be missed of course. His partner would be distraught, and tears would be shed. But life would go on, time would cover the hurt up in sand and silence. Changing once more the nature of things.

Time. His biggest enemy.

He had landed in Rome safe and sound, the flight not having crashed like many unfortunate others had. He had quit is job that very day, enjoying a nice little holiday there instead of the work he had come there to do.

If he had known he were to die at the age of thirty three, Jerimiah would probably not have done things much different than he had. He would most likely have avoided a lot more arguments. Those stupid back and forths with people over things that mean nothing to wider universe. He knew time was always against him, under his feet like an escalator he couldn’t stop or slow down. In this way, he lived a full life. He understood the preciousness and fragility of life. He squeezed his partner a bit more when they hugged and kissed. He meant it more when he said I love you. Perfection was not to be a part of his existence on earth, yet Jerimiah saw the bigger picture. It was all a blink in the eye of God, and he knew he had no time to waste.

When at thirty three, he reached the top of the escalator, he glanced over the side to see how far he’d come. It all looked so small and crushable from his vantage point. He was alone, but he wasn’t sad. He could see his friends glittering their celestial magic as diamonds across the inky black. Their luminosity radiant and strong like a million burning suns. And he took his place in the stars, content and happy that the clocks had finally stopped ticking.

On the edge of a supernova

I waited for you there.
Down at the bottom of the garden, where the universe opens up.
Tiptoeing between fallen leaves and black holes.
Coughing up lunar dust from the departing moon.
Arriving in your spectral way, a moth on the surface.
A white wash of misery and decay.
I never understood why you ran away;
to the mountains, to the forest.
To breathe and live again.
I never knew I was the reason you returned.
You traded pain for love.
Cast it out on the spider webs of the Milky Way.
Letting it hang in the morning light.
Hoping for it to fade.
I wore my naivety proudly like a badge.
Puffed chest and wide eyed.
I thought I could make you live again.
And when we kissed, I felt the rush of protons pulling me.
But it wasn’t enough.
I could not prevent the fall. The supernova there to engulf us.
So I watched you depart.
Lifting up through the trees like a ray of light.
As I mourned our deaths deep down in the soil.
Where you buried me.

(Space) Dust settling

How do we coordinate?
I found you there, where the wind meets the wild.
The violent storm.
I wished for you twenty lifetimes ago.
When my feelings were cooling like the earth’s crust.
What is it that we have now? What holds us together like emotions?
I wear the land upon me like your needs; vibrant and synchronised.
Emotional oceans of respect and calm.
Pulling me down in the wave crest of passion.
Are we there? Where we plotted. Ejected into space.
Coordinated around universal clocks that tick and hum.
Loving you on the latitudes of complexity. Tick.
The longitudes of simplicity. Tock.
Dripping like stars.
Maybe this state of now, is what happens after the war.

Leave it to memories

Hold on to me, I have seen things that you will never see.
I have seen things that you’ll never believe.
Hold on while it hurts. Close your eyes and take my hand.
Shiver out the safety of the ground.
Come with me out of this world.
Where the sweetness will follow you. Distant and warm.
Distance is worn, like a threadbare rug.
The stains of time under foot.
Hold on and try not to breathe.
They hypnotised us into defence. Into regret.
Forty steps to the eighth parallel, one jump into beyond.
Do you believe me now, do you believe yet?
There’s nothing up these sleeves. Only the ability to the dream.
Spinning Egypt and Atlantis in my hand, spinning you a quieter night.
A peaceful day.
The photograph of us that will never fade, and shows us only in reverse.
Clearer, like ebb tides and dragonflies.
Where the sorrow subsides.

The fall will kill you

Place my down, turn off the lights.
My eyes will readjust. My skin will fall away.
Dizzy as I spun, thickening in that web.
Up to the sky, such pedestal wobbling.
Take my hand, lick the blood away and hug my bones.
Take my inside.
Push and shove through the thorns to the heart.
I can’t let go, it’s the way I feel.
I got used to all the mistakes, and never being fully healed.
You let me fly. High up into space.
Signalling the satellites. Swimming in the stars.
Flying with you over rooftops and tragedy.
They all wondered where we’d gone.
It was so easy.
Then it all began to fade and you were gone.
The explosions of clouds masking your departure.
Lonely airspace circling and suffocating..
Now all I see is the rush of gravity.

Echoes in space

Don’t leave me here with that all over me.
Spinning into cotton spider webs. The dusty Milky Way.
I tried to give you everything, and now I feel diminished.
I don’t know why you’re so cruel to me.
My gold is just as good as anyone’s.
24 carat.
Invisible floating carrots from your Midas touching.
Yet only I see in the blackness it seems.
Left in the dark again. Left out in the coldness of space.
Tired of this fuzzy dream. I’m not those pretty people.
Where do you think this will end?
It seems you’ve travelled light years to escape my questioning, my reasoning and our solar symmetry.
The scrap feasting and bone munching you force me.
All must end.
Spinning my own planet on my fingers tips, as I wave your shuttle goodbye.
No more echoes in space. No screams for which no-one will hear.

Slipping on stars

Lost in words, sweet syllables and lullabies.
Knowing too well the winners write the rule books.
Always first in the end, then onto the beginning. Re-structuring my world away.
April night, waiting for the moon to sleep.
Had enough fights to make sure the bruises will never fade. Leaving it all behind.
Choking on solar flares, breathing in a new tomorrow.
The stakes never higher, you chased me from pole to pole, frozen in your righteousness.
Your need to be right and your tries that bind. Trying to be me, trying to be something different.
But I wipe this away and breathe in the galactic air.
Allowing cosmosis to take me deep within you, and all your little galaxies.
The Pisces in me is rising, questioning my reasons to stay; as always.
But the chrysalis of us has flared and I’m strolling now in your starry garden, letting us rest upon my shoulders.
Slipping on stars and sliding into deeper space.
Orbiting you, questioning Copernicus.
Blinded once more by your light.