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Galatanya

She views the seven burning planets
at the center of her galaxy as she rises
from her ancient dusty silver coffin
trimmed with inlaid opals
in the shape of poison ivy
and lined with old forty-five oldies,
spreads her wings to catch the solar breeze.

She soars in search of a universal brew
with violet pupils bulging
out of yellow bloodshot eyes opening
for the first time in a long time,
she is hungry – very hungry.

Her pet baby dragon trails her.
Pink and with backwards feet, talon clawed,
it smiles a curved thin black pencil line smile
and whispers – “Hello”

Majestic zodiac ghosts in all shades of blue
and from everywhere try and speak to her
in all languages – she does not understand.
She hears their screaming
as they are sucked into a bottomless cache
along with fish donning antenna fins
from one nearby quartz moon with green seas
and brown upside-down waves,
her pet holds the catch tightly with its fore claws.

Landing on a planet blanketed with white oak trees
she peers into a pond of orange acorns
with orange jellybeans
moving slowly round and round.
She scoops them up then moves on
to find pancakes with red spirals
on a stone table where underneath
worm trails lead her to purple worms
basking in the afternoon sun.
They try and squiggle away
but she catches them one by one,
she gets them all – has everything to be had.

Resting and playing tic tac toe
losing every time to her smiling pink baby,
when boredom rules and she then spread her wings
to a fury flutter up and gone she disappears

then swoops downward and lands back
in her back yard where ether-links grow
from the crimson sand of the desert
reaching infinitely with shadows
like the hands of ghouls
to her back tattered oak floored porch.

She sits there at a crooked petrified mushroom table
among her square eyed raccoon friends chirping
with their blue noses and pointed heads,
they cannot hear . . .
she fills their ears with warm egg yolk.

Red and white candy-striped candles burn
on the sill of the front window in her kitchen
which is filled with green, yellow and blue doughnuts,
a xylophone and one green tulip plant
with purple foliage grown from her own blood
and drawn by her own dirty harpoon
after the frustration and throwing of the Rubik’s cube
out into the pathetic little moat
filled with red water with green bacteria growing
looking like moldy oatmeal flakes.

Universal Galactic Soup she sips
then closes the dusty silver cover
sniffing the moldy insides of her insides,
puts on an old 45 loads her 45 and defies
time spent to time lent otherwise.

Style / type: 
Free verse
Review Request (Intensity): 
I want the raw truth, feel free to knock me on my back
Review Request (Direction): 
How was the beginning/ending of the poem?
Last few words: 
HAHA went over the limit ! Oh well..
Editing stage: 

Comments

A longish writing this one. Seems like based on some sort of fantasy.. Not sure if this is all from your imagination or based on a movie.
Nothing to criticize, just appreciation.

❤❤❤❤❤❤

Poetry is when an emotion has found its thought and the thought has found words
........Robert Frost☺

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It is a fantasy derived from looking and thinking about several surrealistic works of art.
Thank you for coming by, my fair lady,
Later,

~Mark~
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author comment

are you sure your name isn't Ray Bradbury? I think your poem has all the makings of a good Sci-Fi. Nice work, Ray--I mean Mark. I like it.
Jerry

That was a long time ago. I barely recall it except that it was umm..out there. And Fahrenheit was a strange one too. I recently watched Book OF Eli and that was another great story, gotta love Denzel..
Thank you for the compliment , it means a lot.
Later,

~Mark~
To comment is necessary.
To acknowledge a comment is a compliment.

Live Chat is open 24/7,
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author comment

Mark. I shall have to return to read your science fiction or mythic poem. Well done, but it needs several readings. I see several lines that could be tweaked to make it less wordy, otherwise it's fine. Enjoyed.

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"The very existence of libraries affords the best evidence that we may yet have hope for the future of man." T.S. Eliot, from The Wasteland.

I do hope you do return. As opposed to my Frost poem I would love to work on this one.
I look forward to your return and your input.
Thanks,

~Mark~
To comment is necessary.
To acknowledge a comment is a compliment.

Live Chat is open 24/7,
come in, mix and mingle often!

author comment

that you had recorded one of my flashbacks! This one reminds me of the time... I think it was half a sheet of Windowpane.
Anyway, I enjoyed. Thanks for the memories. ~ Gee.
.

Come to Chat on the Darkside
every other Saturday night 8pm to ?
Bring your dark and delicious work
to show.

LOL

~Mark~
To comment is necessary.
To acknowledge a comment is a compliment.

Live Chat is open 24/7,
come in, mix and mingle often!

author comment
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