Moon Exile

 

 

 

Moon Exile

What am I to think when there is no contact with you? I sent you my hiking photos and videos as you asked. There were many and you knew that. You didn’t read reply or comment. What am I to make of this? Another weekend of no messages. You were never like this before. It's only in the last six months after you left me. I never thought a person could change so much. You became a stranger. The stranger I still love and wish was here.

 

They knew what was going on and sent me here. Far away to clear the air. The rocket ship trip took two months. I was in stasis. They say you don't dream in stasis. I dreamt of you the entire time. How can that be? Their chemicals are meant to stop that.

 

I woke up alone far from my home and your sacred presence. Even if you left me I had some familiarity there. Being close to you. Now I am half a light year away. With a scope I can see our system. The place where you are. It looks so faint!

 

I have no way back. Their ship has no more fuel and is disabled. And know you would refuse me. You have moved on. I have been forcibly moved away. They fully knew what happened. It's why the Academy is in charge. It all went wrong when I asked you out. You Dark Angel Evangeline. You who was to be the next Academy Leader. I ruined it all. That's what I do.

 

I am exiled on a distant moon now. Just me here. All I can do is hike, think of you and send messages which go unread. Just like my desires go unfulfilled. I, the King of the Solo Moon. You would like the beauty and solitude here. See you in Heaven baby.

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Poems...

Poor Little Riga

Her sister is badly ill again

More woes on a family

This is not right

First their dad died

Then Riga found she is ill

Next her sister gets worse

If only I could fix this

And heal them all

This is enough for them

It's time to heal!

…….

Who Writes

His love for her

Still hides inside

He invoke a higher power

He can no longer

Do this alone

Six months of this now

Such love not together

Hitler will guide him

That is the only way

To live with this love

I simply accept it

A surrender to Germany

I'm just a soldier

Who writes…

New poems hehe

 

Solved!

The solution to our problem friendship

Is to put you on a rocket ship and send you to the Moon!

Maybe you will meet Santa Claus

And find water and set up a Moon base

It’ll get you out of my hair!

Bad Name

When you hate your own name

You want to move far away

To another planet never go back

Well not to a planet but a moon

Fuel your ship for a one way flight

So you can’t be called that name

The name you hate and they all know

On the moon you can use

Any name you want and nobody

Will know the difference!

Running away from a bad past

And an even worse name

Become who you want here

Be the person you always wanted to be

The one with a different name

Make Count

Same shit different year

Make this fucking count

You only get one shot

Some of your contemporaries

Are now buried in boxes

Dead to the world forever

Get yer head outa yer arse!

Make all things count

Start fucking living enjoy!

Sarken

 Sarken

A man with a pistol

And three clips of ammo

An old gun with a single stack clip

Not a plastic Glock

He's a bit mad!

Not just in the head

His dog was squashed dead

By a delivery truck

The dog ran out

Was killed immediately

Poor driver was doing his job

Sarken doesn’t mind that

Being a working man himself

He will go out and shoot dead

Chinese immigrants instead!

To appease his fucking anger…

New story be warned

 Reasons

It was a full moon. The man carried a pistol in his pocket. He walked down the pavement of the small street. There were others out and about. It was early. His gun was a weight in his pocket. He was aware of it. Knew that if he pulled it out and used it there would be panic. People screaming running pointing. Hurt dying dead if he hit them square on. Imagine going to the store and being shot in the face. Your world changed forever. He didn’t remove his gun. It remained in his jeans pocket resting against his hip. Even showing the gun would panic people. It was an object no less no more. It was capable of powerful life ending events. Well the actual bullets were. Without them the weapon was just an object. It could pistol whip someone but needed bullets to work. Or in reality needed a focused person who knew what they were doing. To load aim and shoot the gun. The man knew how to do that and had done so several times. In London, Manila and Rio. A travelling global killer. He bought his weapons locally. Why did he do this? The reasons were his own. The gun sat in his pocket. His hand rested on it. He hummed a tune. Time passed and he walked the streets. Soon he would use it. There were six people ahead of him. Stood by a street vendor eating and talking. He decided to randomly shoot one of them . In his mind he counted down. His hand was ready as was his intent. Soon now. Somebody would get hurt. Always when the moon was full…

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