Change And The Cosmos

We are old souls.

We don’t have children.

The Earth is changing.

God bless,
it will wipe us all away.

We’ve had many children before.

They will live elsewhere.

Somewhere else
in the Stars.


Poetry from tewkMehrtin

5,000 Years From This

When our skin becomes
secondary

When our skin becomes
a backdrop of stars
to a world not in light

Layered over
bones and shells
and mountains
our ancestors once scaled

Then we advance to a
civilization past any
we’ve ever been

But we’re 5,000 years
from there

Will we make it
before we kill ourselves
over the color of our skin
or the fiendism of
our economics . . .

before we destroy our earth

– Poetry by Wes tewkMehrtin
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Sojourn Pizza Sci-Fi

The fluffy pizza pillow,
I remember its fabric textures
my whole life.
Thinking this is life,
textures of fabric.
We eat them and they change us.
Then
we have fabrics running
all through us.
Until I die
in the future
on a space station
turning ’round a violet star.
I believe these fabrics
have lived me.
They have been me.
Me, the one who ate the
plush toy pizza pillow.

– Poetry by Wes tewkMehrtin
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Entertainment Plaiming

Crystal,
let us forget the consequences,

crystal,
let us leave the planet.

Although our settings were incorrect,
crystal somehow propelled us
into the outer orbits of stars,

by Penthius and Glaxxian,

where one can see oneself
in the mirror between the dimensions.

And rocks and dust fell outside the window
as
we headed towards that point in Space
to where we did not know we were going.

– Poetry by Wes tewkMehrtin
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Message One Home

I learned today of the “Enigma Doorway”.
I know our people cannot understand it.
Twelve thousand “teams” will assemble for this,

under the many dimensions and
backdrop of Saturn’s sky

but not lest our brain is broken
by the mechanisms
of our own authoritarian fear

shall we start the initiation to the stars,
shall we de-skin ourselves.

Bloodface you will look at me
and see my bloody face and the things of flesh
that hang
and know that I have seen through you,
seen into the EYE,

But how long will you press upon us,
and will you ever find
the book of stone that we have secured
in our place of the Earth and humans?

You have found this now,
let your heart dissolve the allegiance to
their structures.

Find us in our homes.
You will be known as one of the
joonteethokwai.

– Poetry by Wes tewkMehrtin
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The Greens Of Prolmama

The Greens Of Prolmama
that place by the sunglasses store on Sunset Blvd
has helped a lot of cancer survivors get that way
You’ve been that way with your teeth
to stop and turn to the mountain
it makes us look that way
the way we look when there’s just too much
Cowboys riding into the future from the past on a spaceship
or an ion generation device
They make nice clothing at least for the persons who want
to look like that
The Greens infuse my chest cavity
so I look up to see Andromeda’s aftermath
and the aftermath is ignored by all the mammals and the reptiles
unless there’s fire
we’re then drawn outward
to a journey that takes a long long time
I could count the plastic in the toy store
or a municipal dump all for an afternoon to remember now
when we kissed as men reading the Bible


– Poetry by Wes tewkMehrtin
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The Surprise Of Graymont Seeing Pinsky

With the astronaut herself
I ran up to her funeral.

At her funeral was the telling of the cliffs above Mars
and the planets around Centauri.

Her husband and children were there weeping
and
the Nation
looked on
through video channels and viewing devices.

Politicians and bureaucrats spoke about space air
and referenced the “distant cliffs” she’d walked above,
the “distant stars” she’d seen,
the t-shirts she wore,
and even the fluorescent green rain she farmed crops underneath.

When we walked up
they turned around amazed and looked up in shock.
Stricken with sweat and a pale white face,
someone spoke up and said,
“Holy Lazarus! It’s you! Captain Marsha Pinsky!
It’s you!”

“It is me indeed, Graymont.

I have returned home, Colonel Graymont.

Was this what you were expecting?”


– Poetry by Wes tewkMehrtin
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Slowly On The Spaceship You Finger Me

Slowly on the spaceship you finger me.

I look out to all the worlds,
I see the Orion nebula.

I realize suddenly I am a man
and you are fingering my asshole,

you are making me feel like a woman —
there is warmth and stars before us.

You devoid my heroic masculinity.
You are a woman and have a vagina.

If I was a more cowardly person
I could not admit this,
say a politician,
a banker,
or a soldier perhaps.

I take on certain things,

for this is my will on this voyage.


– Poetry by Wes tewkMehrtin
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Alien Heads, The Candy

Alien heads,
oh alien heads
laid in bed
looking at a planet
they’ve
come from
so very far away
I laid with
a woman with
an alien head,

the shape of the
suburban housewife’s bob,

the genetic memory
where she came from,

across our
luscious cells.

We stare at the window
blinds
where there is some form
of day
that’s out there.


– Poetry by Wes tewkMehrtin
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Enzyme Face With Gravy

You, the bite of grape after wine,
I cried on your breasts.
My tears fled to the desert,
waves of sand, waves of water.
I made oceans fall apart
when the world was just beginning.
Took bites of cheese in front of you,
swallowed.
The cliffs of mountain sides
were falling down every 24-hour cycle.
Infantile planets do that.
You must pick them up,
raise them to their solar star
so that they will photosynthesize.
I was thriving in your tenderloin muscles,

a co-enzyme I think I am.


– Poetry by Wes tewkMehrtin
from:
lovers of the century thumbnail image
Lovers Of The Century (poetry book)