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New Poetry

Posted by Friar Turk , July 12, 2017 · 74 views

poetry class star the beamship
Out on the edge of the shadow, the day begins
Charting out a course to an aimless star, but not to wander
The pioneer has a map, with key, keeping his eye bright
He is armed, the light sabre, for friend or foe, and shield


Like the fusion that moves him onward, running plasmaCurrents of power, drive propulsion, launch away this ship
Yet first he must meet up with the hulking edifice, the ship
Soon to be parting from this orbit, the beam-core begins

Filled with helium ore and maybe tritium , the ionized plasma
This purring star-drive is ready to launch, to fly, to wander
Directly; the beam is also a current, projected energy, a shield
Meant to direct away oncoming dust, meteorites, too bright

To be picked from quantum radar as space without beams bright
Radiating a plutonium glow within, the pocket between the ship
And dark space, being twisted and warped by this, the second shield
Which keeps captain and crew safe from collision, the flight begins
The deep stars of the galaxy, both bright and dark, appear to wander
From within the tower of the star-cruiser, while it is revving up its plasma

Listening to the beam-core purr, its sufficient to check on the plasma
The captain takes his turn on watch, keeping his senses sharp, his eyes bright
Lest he be invaded, alien ships from without, or a slip of his mind to wander
Long he has kept to himself, on nights such as this, alone with his ship
And longing for the end of this flight from night, for a new day that begins
Without arms or a call to arms. All foes and aliens who force him to shield

His close kin who spell mankind; from distant memory they reckon, they shield
This reckoning as a symbol of future tidings, and cannot journey with plasma
Unblooded. For it is that which ends which draws onward that which begins
And from dim, dreary and abysmal origins upon distant worlds the bright
New flash of light will thunder and hit, running between worlds and the ship
Gaining on the stars to try.... the fates, which stir the night. Yet to wander

Is the last refuge for those, lost to the inhabited worlds, having ceased to wander
Comforted by false notions, trumped up and sedated, they lay down their shield
Seeking to fall into a world, where no swords are needed, anchored to a ship
That doesn't sail, the beam-core gone to rust and lines not feeding plasma
And minds and souls gone to orange, the colour rusting, not too bright
When the blending rust of worlds breathes blood into iron and light begins


Let the Captain call out the end as this begins; the star-beam beaming the shield,
separating the time-warp, driving the wanderers, with space running, as plasma
runs within, being and beaming from without;


Is the running proof for the sites which we set, which fall when we wander





September 2017

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