Beneath the sky

When I was young and ignorant

The Earth was flat.

Trees hadn’t made any sounds,

Even after collapsing then

Inside a lonesome wood.

When I was sick I saw no signs;

But of course the black and gold letter

Below the telescope stood out.

It said not to look at the sun

Through my demonic lens,

Or your eyes would burn

Into charred cinders.

Beneath the sky I knew nothing

About insight, and intrigue, and instinct.

Always one step closer, farther

From the truth up there.

I looked once more in the lens,

Toward space’s greatest inferno.

In a moment the Earth grew round,

Stretched its ends to their seams,

Stitched the Pacific and Atlantic together,

Blew the boundaries apart,

and Bled entire nations into one.

When I removed myself from the stars

The vision faded before me,

Exploring through the woods

Brought me no prior solace;

All the trees had fallen, silently.

I felt the ground shift underneath me.

Restoring itself to my youthful simplicity,

Once my face grew wrinkles.

When I was older the telescope

Disappeared with my vision and my innocence

And the summer sun.

Mixed Emotions

Ahh ha-ha!
Bright today
Dim tomorrow
Sink away
Rise later
Seein the sun at Night
Ain’t so hard 
If you know where to look
Adjust your telescope
Take a peak
Sagarmatha summits
Lurk in plain sight
When you see em
Skies part
Life starts.

Planets of Blue

When I’m sad at night,
When I’m not feeling alright,
          Lights change great green to
Blue, and
Yellow sunbeams collapse on me
          And then this life becomes so much
Think think-around think-through
Think think thinking of you
Sometimes, all right.
          Sometimes, all night.
          (That alternate universe)
Better times coming downtown
Back to the start, first round
Lights faces shining singing
Lingering in my mind like the greasy
After-taste of
          Food, yuck
Fruit on the tree of Eden, midnight
          Godly sorrow
The kind
          Hercules would know
Late-time speeding seconds.
          Stops short of reality
Galaxy sighting out the window
At night there’s planets full of blue
And you.


Why’s the terrain so cruel?

A misstep leads to pain

A bad decision, solidarity

An immoral dilemma

An unethical quandary

Earth’s cruelty strikes hot

Against thick criminal skin

Punishing punishers,

Violent vagabonds

and Ferocious fiends

Vengeance is sightless,

Like storms, quakes,

Hurricanes by the shore.

This land wasn’t made – It was torn by the seams –

Not for you and me, but the powers-that-be

And so the indignant, with strife and skin

Become the Reachers, our deadliest sin.



Collectively we bundle into one thought, one mind, one soul

I would stand with the oversoul against the tides for hours

Meditating on lost words others must know in past lives

Before I lived on the earth the oversoul was here, one being

And it needs no introduction, beyond its broad, specific existence

A zealous blanket of ethereal material wraps around us,

Amounts our ideas into a bright lightbulb of potential alacrity,

And traces those thoughts to a brilliant tower looming beyond.

The oversoul demands inescapable obedience, wondrous

Mountaintops where it rests serenely remind us our service’s price.

Transcend our grievances and hatreds to a greater good,

The oversoul monitors like a flashlight on a blank page

Which fills with detail over time, as creation visualizes,

For us, I know it true, the oversoul is here for me and you

It wakes me in the morning when I wish to escape nightmarish thoughts

It wakes me at night when I still have work to complete.

It wakes me in the afternoon when I’m drifting to a different plane.

Springs me to life and fills me with unparalleled joy when

I observe the world from a shared, equally fantastic distance.



The world is made of matter

Matter made of atoms

And atoms are made of themselves


The world is home to life

Which demands self-satisfaction

Leaving traces of the alive and dead.


The world is home to chaos

Chaos full of fear and hatred

And riotous greed with dedication


The world is home to peace

Peace as an absolutely goal

The releasing of pain and pleasure


The world is home to order

Order reaching nowhere and everywhere

The authoritarians thrive.


The world is home to the world

And without a home no one really lives

And without life, there’s no world.


So I guess everything depends

Upon each other’s jobs, responsibilities

In order to create the complicated ecosystem

We call Earth

But know as home.

Chris Hadfield’s “Space Oddity”

In case my followers or anyone really has yet to see this wonderful video, I want to share it on my blog out of sheer respect for the man who made it. It’s no surprise to people that know me well that I hold space exploration, NASA, and the ISS in high regard. Many of my poems are inspired by thoughts of space and all of the grand possibilities out there. I wanted to be an astronaut once, but now I can rest easy and admire those who have the courage to take that path.

Commander Chris Hadfield keeps up with social media (such as Twitter, Facebook, and YouTube) while he’s aboard the International Space Station. In the past, he’s explained how to play the guitar while in space, and why tears stick to your face when you cry in space. There’s a heaping of more insightful videos around, too, but his latest video takes the cake in the form of an inspirational message. Here, Commander Hadfield performs a slightly-edited version of “Space Oddity” by David Bowie. He is about to leave the ISS and pass his role of commander to a fellow attendee of the station. As a farewell, he recorded this video with the help of some friends down on Earth. Enjoy!

Hopefully you were as inspired as I was when I first watched the video. If you enjoyed this video, I recommend you watch the rest of his collection on his YouTube channel. His insights into science and space are tremendous.

Until next time, friends. To infinity…and beyond!

above or below

they’re sitting in the basement rooftops

of sky-high-scrapers built ten times taller than

the Empire State and then some, I haven’t measured

fifty-three million tons of concrete under their

asses and fifty-three million more above them

somewhere soaring rapid in waves of sound,

rays of light below the sun, moon, and gloomy stars,

everything below something else, everything

above or beneath each other, except the

Empire State.

Gatz the Great

It’s 11:30 on a Wednesday night

And the winter’s cold but damp,

The blizzard had passed yet the

Vicious winds have roared

And haven’t stopped.

I am sitting on the beach rocks

Like a boat beating against the current,

And the Moon sleeps in the distance

While the ocean buzzes into life and

The great green light flickering across the dock

Shines endlessly like a garnet stone

Or a beautiful daisy for us to admire

Among a field of grays and blacks.

It was a light for us, to

Incite hope from,

As motivation to stay calm and safe

But to take risks and start scandals

To rise higher up the long ladder

From poverty to sanctuary,

From flames to paradise, and

From ashes to beauty,

And from here we set our gaze skyward.

As I speak the moon-man is fishing for attention,

And languishing in arrogant insecurity, while

Baiting the fish with dread and

Dropping lanterns and light bulbs in the bay;

He’s knocking on the world’s ceiling

And laughing with his lover

For he had exploited the fish for gold.

But the angels, with their all-seeing eyes,

Responded furiously

For lightning struck thrice on his mistress

And they were quite pleased

And the moon man was frustrated

And the fish laying on the ocean

Were gasping for air against the

Murky and dangerous current

In the valley of ashes.

And I wondered if they would stay dead for eternity.