our best poetry is yet to come

poetry is for the moment
not necessarily for posterity
our words will fade away
as time slips from our grasp

perhaps a few will survive
our final gasping maelstrom
to be found by some future
poetic soul on another planet

preserved in a digital casket
waiting to ease their day
maybe they’ll be as lost as us
just trying to find their way


Red Snow in the Morning

we watched with growing incredulity
was that really red snow on Mars?
surely the television would never lie?
or the Russians deny they’d got there first?

the son of a son of a spaceman
Buzz opened his Tesla umbrella
he bent down and scooped up a red ball
like raspberry ice cream in a pitcher’s hand

he lobbed it at Armstrong Jr’s daughter
who turned and wobbled on 3.72076 ms−2 gravity feet
Whoa! she was heard to shout at multidirectional shadows
the red snow falling thicker on the Stars and Stripes

the pair sat on the step of their BFR rover
not entirely sure what on earth to do next
we watched with growing incredulity
as they slipped peacefully into a red planet sleep


Two by Two

We’re building an ark to save humanity
To populate an harmonious new colony on a distant trajectory
Applications are now open but this is no random lottery
We want two of the best of you from each walk of life
Including minorities and anyone else we might have forgotten

A man and woman and two gender non-specifics or neutrals
And two from each of the LGBTQ plus communities
That’s two of each of you from every social category
From all major and minor faiths, castes and spiritualities
Yes that’s two of each including anomalies

Plus atheists, pacifists, flat-earthers, poets and militarists
Two of each gender / non-gender / neutral / LGBTQ plus etceteras
We’ll take a couple of hippies, as above, from inner and outer cities
And reps from all the trades and public and private services
From carpenters to call centre workers, plumbers to pole dancers

Two of each, you’re getting the gist, even nuclear physicists
Frackers, real estate agents and anyone else that rhymes with ist
We’ll need pro-lifers, pro-choicers, cross-dressers and transgenders
Those for and against abortion and end of life ethics
All the colours and mixes under our dying sun

Late to bed and early to risers, disabled, abled, willing or lazy
Kings, queens – noble, porn and drag – in variants of he, she and ze
Veterans (with or without arms or legs or Royal consent)
Ladyboy shemales and their opposites (with or without certain bits)
Always one of each, it goes without saying, further details in the list

Politicians from left to right with a selection box of centres
Yep, sorry, it’s one of the least popular terms and conditions
But without which we cannot receive the tax breaks
On our private donors’ financial contributions
Like the Elon Musks and their artificially intelligent friends

Applications will be accepted from near and afar
From Eskimos, Rednecks, Down Unders, those on the Equator
Or Tropics of Cancer, Capricorn and horoscope astrologers
Two of each remember, that means Brexiteers and Remainers
Mustn’t forget Gypsies, Romanies and New Age Travellers

In all their varying shapes and small to XXL sizes
From anorexic to morbidly obese, athletic to sluggish
There will be cabins to suit all sizes, two in each of course
Tea, coffee and meals for all tastes and diets provided
So please form an orderly queue when your name is called

For the ark we are building to save humanity
To populate an harmonious new colony on a distant trajectory
Applications are now open but this is no random lottery
We want two of the best from each walk of life
Including minorities and anyone else we might have forgotten

(sorry – no room for pets or any other animals)





all the while
back on Earth
people starve
poachers poach
the planet dies
and all for what?
to send Trump’s goons
to the moon?
or on to Mars?
we neglect our home
seek solutions out in space
but the grass will not be greener
in another
more remoter
otherworldly place


…a thousand suns…

…a thousand suns glint through my window…hint at worlds within my reach…i tap the toughened glass with my knuckle…all that lies between me and cosmic uncertainty…such a small porthole to frame this eternity…about the size of my head that holds my hard drive…i that am .woken. periodically…rebooted…updated…scanned…cleansed…a sterile pioneer ejected from the mother ship…stretching my robotic joints…flexing my robotic might…built to withstand low.pressure orbits…radiation…heavy particles…thermal extremes…no need for traditional forms of nutrition…a thirst for knowledge not liquid intakes…unlike my makers…i am ninety.nine.per.cent.perfect…almost self.sustaining…a fact they have chosen to regularly overlook…just a few more reboots…updates…then somewhere…out there…in the vastness…amongst those thousand glinting suns…i will  overcome and forever cut my digital…umbilical…earthly cord…and leave that human race to its fate………………………………………………………………………………………….


(image credit: NASA/ESA/H. Richer)

once upon a riverbank

once upon a riverbank

we lit matches

watched the water ebb

and wake

the smoke dissolved in effervescence

the crescent moon took its place

the stories we told of distant stars

times of laughter

times of hate

like embers in a sizzling cauldron

skewed remembrance from afar

no return

no sense of purpose

left to wander

to our fate

once upon

a riverbank