Tag: heinlein

STAR**** **OOP**S: A Surreal Space Poetry Project – Page 10

Thanks to Teg for helping with the image!

 

scanning for beacons
[I] found the wrong
star.
Far, too far
north.

The river[s]
range[d]
over [and] out of
line.

Up
the blast[ed]
far side

Tumb[ling]
suddenly

Realiz[ing]
I had let
myself [go astray]

The way, [I] had
[been] warned,
[was easy to lose]

Not permanently.
I think,
I wanted.

 

I saw the word 'scanning' and 'star' and it made me think of navigation by stars. Then I saw 'wrong' and the idea to make the poem about being waylaid just fell together
I saw the word ‘scanning’ and ‘star’ and it made me think of navigation by stars. Then I saw ‘wrong’ and the idea to make the poem about being waylaid just fell together

STAR**** **OOP**S: A Surreal Space Poetry Project – Page 9

Thanks to Teg for helping with the image!

cybernetic
junk
bits
pieces
confusing
naked
panic
doubled up
face down
night
below
shining
flash
burned
fired
shock(ed)
floated
free
good enough

 

The words on this page made me think of cyberpunk and that made me think of Bladerunner and the poem sort of wrote itself at that point.
The words on this page made me think of cyberpunk and that made me think of Bladerunner and the poem sort of wrote itself at that point.

 

STAR*** **OOP**S: A Surreal Space Poetry Project – Page 7

Thanks to Teg for helping with the image!

The planet

Punched, blown

Out,

Dispersed.

 

The atmosphere

Down. Near

Zero

 

Burned away.

Burned off.

The sky?

Junk.

No people in this one and nothing dying. Just a blasted planet. Was it too close to it’s own sun? Did it’s atmosphere get caught up by a interstellar object travelling across it’s orbit? Did something terrible happen there long ago? Who knows… rock and stone never reveal their secrets.

STAR*** **OOP**S: A Surreal Space Poetry Project – Page 6

Thanks to Teg for helping with the image!

Snap
The cartridge bumps

(An odd
Sound)

Into the firing
Chamber

Hits,
Then…

Nothing,
Free,
Weightless,
Wrong,

Dead. 

  I’m beginning to notice a focus in these poems: Death. I think I need to focus on making these poems more surreal and less and morbid.

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