I stood before the thick-bubbled window,
gazing upward at the flushed gray sky.
The moon, shaped like a flying torpedo,
cruising on its daily second over fly.
Phobos slipped behind Olympus Mons,
which towered twenty-four kilometers,
casting a vast shadow over dried oceans,
lifeless land pitted with rocks and craters.
I noticed one of the hotel's tour vehicles,
departing along a sandy road of deep ruts.
It waddled along on giant spiked spindles,
like a huge bug pulling ten sealed chariots.
I had taken the grand tour on three occasions.
Around Olympus Mons into the Viking Grotto,
under the surface over the icy Sea of Dragons,
returning along the stony rim of Hercules' Plato.
The bellhop entered pushing a hovering carriage,
and asked if I had a fine stay at the Hilton Olympus?
Yes, I replied while he gathered up all my baggage,
Mars is nice, but my next trip will be to Venus.
Here I stand on the edge of forever,
gazing upward at the nocturnal sky.
Upon this peak the stars glimmer,
to the unfathomable wonder of my eye.
My reflection of life travels upward,
through the vastness of everlasting time.
My brief existence shall be rendered,
like vivid starlight from a past lifetime.
Historic lights traveling through space,
reaching far beyond the human intellect.
Mortal trails for the unknown to embrace,
qualities and defects they shall inspect.
These lower life forms are extremely strange,
with many emotions that track a wide range.
Love and hatred rule their personal passions,
and they squabble over imperceptible notions.
My studies verify they're all the same species,
but trivial appearances segregate their societies.
Mighty conglomerates direct luxurious holdings,
accomplished by deceiving their fellow beings.
Their history revels they are warring creatures,
with a self-extinction arsenal to deter aggressors.
Many nations control territories they conquered,
on a class seven planet that they have plundered.
Their technology utilizes combustible motors,
so they travel in vehicles that emit toxic vapors.
Their sources for electrical power are primitive,
and their efforts to explore space are restrictive.
They have religions and set laws for guidance,
but their data lines tale a great deal of violence.
Their penal complexes are full of law breakers,
and some of these hostile criminals are killers.
Many of these life forms do not mate for life,
they fall out of love with an ending of strife.
These primitives that call themselves humans,
are not ready to join the Planets Of Nations.
Please do not use PublishAmerica to publish your novel: Contact Larry Larson at the Zeeper Literary Agency, Tel: 903-603-1116
Do you have a manuscript ready to be published? Contact Larry Larson at the Zeeper Literary Agency, Tel: 903-603-1116
Zeeper Literary Agency works with authors and have successfully provided placement of manuscripts at major publishing houses. In addition,Larry Larson and his associates provide creative marketing and promotional plans and other services to ensure author success.
PublishAmerica printed The Being Of Sarah with many mistakes that are not in my manuscript. In the near future, I plan to offer the manuscript freely to my readers.
Different Eyes of A Vision
Here I gaze into the dark vastness,
to wonder if the points bear beings.
I so hunger to be an alien witness,
to know of life beyond our endings.
We are the intelligence of our lot,
and I do not believe we crawl alone.
Existence has touched this one spot,
wasting the points in the infinite zone.
I am tired of the reality to subsist here,
bound to gaze into the vast unknown.
I wait here for clever beings to appear,
to pass cosmic knowledge onto a drone.
I shall revisit the nest to dream in silence,
of flying in an apparatus to an outer quest.
My tentacles encumber my intelligence,
for I only exist upon this point to infest.
Sailing on a vessel named earth,
through the endless time of space.
Circling the warmth of all birth,
the brightest light to our embrace.
On a perception the earth is round,
Columbus sailed the deep blue sea.
Riding an endless merry-go-round,
at sixty-six thousand miles hourly.
Discovering a majestic land of freedom,
to add among the painted carousel horses.
Countries sharing this one global system,
while evil rulers trash the liberty of bridges.
Star beams of the past dot the night sky,
glittering in the lusting eyes of Cleopatra.
A history of light sailing toward Gemini,
alien eyes witnessing an ancient stigmata.
Here we are amongst the points of light,
riding this global carousel into the future.
Perceived as a creature infested satellite,
rudimentary to the unknown astronomer.
