Thursday, July 7, 2016


By Brendan McBreen

long after
our wars
and our pollutions
fail to kill us

and the Earth we cling to

will return
to the dust
stars are made of

no whispers
no bangs
just cold heat
from a dying sun
a final embrace
of light

the small hopes
we have
into endless oceans
of time

nothing more
than graffiti
on the universe
saying only
we were here
we existed

even these
will be lost
among gathered dust
and debris

until they burn away
across the sky
of some distant planet
born eons after
Earth’s demise

a creature there
may find
an odd relic
and say to it’s fellows
these metals
these etchings
cannot be made
in nature

amid phosphorescent
flickers of dissent

this creature

will be laughed out of the room
into cool night air
where it will tilt
it’s sensory protuberance up
to better hear
the stars

and think
just maybe
we are not

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I love poetry, I love science and science fiction in all of it's speculative and fantasy and just plain weird forms. I grew up watching old monster and sci-fi movies from the 1950's and 1960's and reading Ray Bradbury, so my primary influences are pretty old school. I also write haiku, 575 smartass haiku and the traditional kind, I do collage art and I'm a Gemini.
(if you want, you can see some of the collages on my blog under the category :Various Hallucinations)

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