Mission Control … we cannot speak
about the worlds that we have seen
…that we have been… words are too weak
… our voice… electric shades of green…
Misshapen hole… that strange flower
… found by our space botanist Benn
… it has… somehow… overpowered
us… with some hallucinogen…
Miss universe… all systems cleansed
… check daffodilic angelscream…
Major Reids eyes have grown immense…
eleventeen gold dolphins gleam…
My shining soul… it’s wearing off…
we must help this bright flower spread
… it’s blown our minds to cosmic stuff…
we’re bringing it home to your heads…
Comments
skinner_jennifer | May 10, 2011 - 16:15
Hi well-wisher,
wow! this is really 'far out man.' Yes I really love
your descriptions, especially:-
Misshapen hole...that strange flower
found by our space botanist Benn
...it has...somehow...overpowered
us...with some hallucinogen...
great words.
Jenny.
maisie | May 10, 2011 - 16:31
yep! lovely
well-wisher | May 10, 2011 - 18:49
Thankyou Jenny and Maisie, your comments were lovely.
I've always liked Edwin Morgan's space poetry
and the way that language breaks down in his
poems and this is partly inspired by them aswell
as by 60's psychedelic/garage punk music.