Poppies Blown, Solar Winds- Poems from The Captain's Chair- The U.S.S. MinnowPROSE!

Too much too much, croaked through broken lips.
Searching for a broken riff.
When all you needed.
Was water.

Jacks been to town left you on the couch.
Twitching for another fix.
You don't need that stereo.
rock bottom.

Harry on the other hand, he's pretty great.
That bloke is never late.
Takes his own time.
Yours.

But lifting the bottles never hard.
That stuffs littered all over the yard.
Broken bottles, smashed dreams.
Stare into that mirror.

Honestly there's no escape.
From the alchemists fate.
Mix em all up together.
Go out with a bang.

Rocketing through the sky.
Head comforted between silken thigh.
Those pillows could soothe anything.
grinned one to another, through polarized plastics.

As blue turned to black, they dropped precious weight.
Red hot boosters let fly.
Every bit matter now.
This was no simulation.

To Mars we were told.
Where the ground was still gold.
No air and burning sun.
Small issues.

For back home, earth was blown.
Litterally to shreds.
Meteriote was spotted few planets out.
Only us now.

100 of each, men and women both.
Packed in like sardines.
Safe in this precious pod.
Head between knees.
I guess I should be thankful.
And pray godspeed.

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It is with a great degree of diffidence that I approach this piece. Or should I say pieces. The first part of the poem seems to hint at the inevitability of fate only in the sense that we are complicit in narrating that story. The contrast between the two lives is quite remarkable, as it speaks to those polar opposites that exist.

I would assume that the second part of the poem speaks to how imprisoned we are to fate. The reckless and the circumspect are both playing their role. We are all mere mortals chained to time and place and fate and shit hitting the fan is the best illustration of this. For what can we do about a planet that is dead.

That is just my two cents. I assume that I am way off, but this is what the poem means to me.

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