Truncated History of future Moon Base “New Australia” 2108
Goat Heads of the Mists
Out of the mists
Ascend goats
Toppling cairns
Riding magma moat
Of conformation
And advent
Amid new Tibetan craters
Stiffened n’ arched spines
Hoofed charger,
ramming speed
Radiant goat
heads butting, butting
Sure-foot woolen beast
Carved in stone
Circumstance and path
Origins of goat alphabet
Goateed alphabet of rut
In New Australia 2108
The Hitchhiker
Turning the tables
Always led to
Increase in hitchhiking
Why?
Due to turn-about
Is still fair-play
Canyon freckled
Creation reckoned
Space time beckoned
Journey on spinning spheres
Litany of courage
Frailty of flash
Hounded, lest forgotten
Satan shackled
at last
Creation ending
Creation unfolding
Only restart of something
Rewind and fast forward
Woolly barber
intending well shearer
Lamb of God
Reckoned beaker
Promise perfect
Garden lair
and Rams’ pairs
Creation of mist
Ram heads in the air
Sun not up yet
In dawn haze
She is there; She is there
Horned owl, winged lion
Catching frog eyes
To swallow
Drops down
Plucks them
From grassy hideaways
Fills her gullet
Sharp her eyes
Sharper talons
Her direct flight
Efficient and fruitful
Sends chills down
A morning spine
Rabbits run across lupines
on Grandmother’s grave
stop abrupt, give vigil gaze
...above in predawn predation haze
First light; she splinters off
To her loftier nest
full of Owlets, hungry
For rat, frog and fish
-- Life evident
birth Burdened with Myth
Owl knows well that night
is Living history of moon light
Lunar specter as light reflector
Like an hour of darkness laser
Moon has been burdened
As accurate metaphor for Satan
Masquerading as source of light
But really only reflecting
some True light down on paths
Of those living in darkness --
Truth eclipses comparison
but Satan was shackled
by the Son
Explorer
Pygmy rock bounder
Horned errant
As mists lifts
Burning away
Stratified
Immersed
Pledged woolly robed visitor
In secrets earnest
To charge enemies who
Advance in truest form
Train eyes sternest
Cry: "Forward --
“No retreat”
Woes freighted
As traumas converge
Valor splendid
On shoulders
In morning mists
As moon and sun
Set and rise
with moon wind between
ram heads
Filling sky
Barely above mists
Eye on eye
Brains of rams
and goat heads of the mists
leaping in sixth sense
high flying in gravity sixth
The Naked Stalk
Mote, threshed loosed
chaff
Dry grass,
sodder
Stalks of grain, straw,
Stubble of
Naked husk
To settle forth
Vapors
Chaff
Lecherous she-things
seem to steam out
of walls, and seams
And even from books
Acting on treachery
Everywhere --
Even from her regard
In possession of she-brain
She-goat Elizabeth
Mourns the mist
‘Must we wake to mist?
Every morn?’
She asks Brother Charles
And Freddie Fodder
Self interest
Heightened senses, much like,
Reality is no reality...
surrounded by gravity
So must pass through
Deaf, dumb processing
Go they, so, virtually
Real, eh...
And that’s not all
There is self service
It is complicated, much like,
"Who said we should clip wings
"And tag bears
"And skin leopards ?"
Some curse of dust
moon settlers continue to live under
Proceeding with others’ wishes
Like once was said --
It is complicated
Much like Freemasonry,
and cults of fertility
How else could
well meaning descendant's'
of Baal find redeeming lives
than by staging robust migrate
to Lunar Base 2108?
Too many replications
Destroy antidotes
No one will baby sit
Like billy goats
No being does--
No caste has
gone this remote
New Australia
A goat kissed the mist
Her name is D V Dram,
She was looking for
2020 exhibits on Main
At Chevy Chase Ray
in New Cairo, Siam
She did a quick search
On her Bic.surgeX
To match the beast
At her feet, on its leash
With something
Recognizable of late
In her "Lunar Navigator
Correlative plates"
As missionary to moon
Her mission had been
Preach -- teach -- reach
But how
If she could not even
Understand
The primal screech
or errant bray
Of a flawed speech
How D V Dram
Worried for her kind
The boulevard
Was vacated at this time
But a large building
Was teeming
With fellow goat-herds seeming
To cajole and work
So there she commenced
To investigate the edifice where
The sign read "New Australia
Public Works and Metal Bending
Relics and Attributes Division"
Loud equipment
Being run by
Even louder natives
Conveyors fed presses
Up and down went machines
Banging thunderously
Into their bases
Where from afterward
Bent metal shot out
Onto belts and rollers
To where sparks flew
As parts got welded
D V Dram’s wrist vibrated
To show her the implicated
Match to her query of late
"It is a Dog-Cat,
somewhat matriculated"
"Thanks, SurgeX, return to steady state.."
Ecosystem Evidence
What truly is Remarkable
There is an entire ecosystem
Living collective, in and under
The "Public Works and Metal Bending
Relics and Attributes Division"
Factory floor
of Moon marble
where giant plants have rooted
growing great leaves fluted
Covering large stipules
Sticking out and being
Cross fertilized
By hummingbird spicules
Actually clones of hover
Drop tiny substance
On the flat leaves where
Large slugs scoot
along stems and roots
slurping up
droppings and algae
peanut shells, and grimy
Nicotine scale -- while
Winged butterflies follow
Their sluggish friends
And poke in turn
in the dust
on pollen laden heads
Of hummingbird's
Circles of oily fungi
Form in the slug slime
Growing into mushrooms
Of lunar kind
Microscopic inspection
Would doubtless reveal
An entire sub-visible thrill
Of thistle and seed
Typical of nature's industry
Of outback flotsam and debris
Underway now for a century
UBILAM
Just so we are all
up to speed --
On the same page,
Concerning chaos of age --
Noting its all the rage online
with settlers of
"New Australia Lunar" Stage
Is not a gate of heaven
by any sage...
Goats had hitchhiked
To lunar surface early
And Goat DNA had
Entered the "Errol Morris
Clone Factory" accidentally
And today was Day of the Dead
On Ubilam Beach, where
their leader calls out names
of passed away beloved
"Bedlam, Balaam, Belem, Balsam
"Bart rap, Bangles and Bartech --"
Called Bursar the Human Zy Goat
Calling out names of his dead
And departed relatives
The new races
Of New Australia
Were exceptionally strict
Well-measured and manicured
Almost Draconian ticked
They established a cemetery for pets
And a thin blue line
For security
They held festivals regularly
Such as: Misters of Death
Like today, and Fogs of War,
And, Mists of Plutonium
Or, Holographic Holocaust horror
Also, was a day of Locusts
and The Squid and the Whale
And the naming by Bursar stopped...
Even now
As new Goat Herds
Trippingly Pronk
And roust
Bounding in the kettle moraine
Of lunar surface
One of best times in their
Golden era was 7 x 6
Lunar cycles of childhoods
pre-Time when pupae
Out-birthed as humanoids
Into conditions favorable
And not toxin to clones
Mixed with mountain stock
Of venerable RAM’s analog
As factors allow
Childhoods to reach fruition
In accordance of some singularity
Known as pre-bang mechanics
Abiding no longer
Just as a mental construct
But as a mistake of science
Achieving furtherance
Through moderate living attribute
Of environmental factors and
With pollutants in abate
Meeting effectively all appraisal
For lunar base New Australia 2108
by Patrick Darnell, 05.31.2008
Some Links:
Goat Heads of the Mists gets my goat Richard Berry – Friday, February 08, 08
http://timea.rice.edu/index.html Cairo PHOTOS
http://lunar.gsfc.nasa.gov/moonfacts.html
ram heads
Filling sky
Barely above mists
Eye on eye
Brains of rams
and goat heads of the mists
leaping in sixth sense
high flying in gravity sixth
The Naked Stalk
Mote, threshed loosed
chaff
Dry grass,
sodder
Stalks of grain, straw,
Stubble of
Naked husk
To settle forth
Vapors
Chaff
Lecherous she-things
seem to steam out
of walls, and seams
And even from books
Acting on treachery
Everywhere --
Even from her regard
In possession of she-brain
She-goat Elizabeth
Mourns the mist
‘Must we wake to mist?
Every morn?’
She asks Brother Charles
And Freddie Fodder
Self interest
Heightened senses, much like,
Reality is no reality...
surrounded by gravity
So must pass through
Deaf, dumb processing
Go they, so, virtually
Real, eh...
And that’s not all
There is self service
It is complicated, much like,
"Who said we should clip wings
"And tag bears
"And skin leopards ?"
Some curse of dust
moon settlers continue to live under
Proceeding with others’ wishes
Like once was said --
It is complicated
Much like Freemasonry,
and cults of fertility
How else could
well meaning descendant's'
of Baal find redeeming lives
than by staging robust migrate
to Lunar Base 2108?
Too many replications
Destroy antidotes
No one will baby sit
Like billy goats
No being does--
No caste has
gone this remote
New Australia
A goat kissed the mist
Her name is D V Dram,
She was looking for
2020 exhibits on Main
At Chevy Chase Ray
in New Cairo, Siam
She did a quick search
On her Bic.surgeX
To match the beast
At her feet, on its leash
With something
Recognizable of late
In her "Lunar Navigator
Correlative plates"
As missionary to moon
Her mission had been
Preach -- teach -- reach
But how
If she could not even
Understand
The primal screech
or errant bray
Of a flawed speech
How D V Dram
Worried for her kind
The boulevard
Was vacated at this time
But a large building
Was teeming
With fellow goat-herds seeming
To cajole and work
So there she commenced
To investigate the edifice where
The sign read "New Australia
Public Works and Metal Bending
Relics and Attributes Division"
Loud equipment
Being run by
Even louder natives
Conveyors fed presses
Up and down went machines
Banging thunderously
Into their bases
Where from afterward
Bent metal shot out
Onto belts and rollers
To where sparks flew
As parts got welded
D V Dram’s wrist vibrated
To show her the implicated
Match to her query of late
"It is a Dog-Cat,
somewhat matriculated"
"Thanks, SurgeX, return to steady state.."
Ecosystem Evidence
What truly is Remarkable
There is an entire ecosystem
Living collective, in and under
The "Public Works and Metal Bending
Relics and Attributes Division"
Factory floor
of Moon marble
where giant plants have rooted
growing great leaves fluted
Covering large stipules
Sticking out and being
Cross fertilized
By hummingbird spicules
Actually clones of hover
Drop tiny substance
On the flat leaves where
Large slugs scoot
along stems and roots
slurping up
droppings and algae
peanut shells, and grimy
Nicotine scale -- while
Winged butterflies follow
Their sluggish friends
And poke in turn
in the dust
on pollen laden heads
Of hummingbird's
Circles of oily fungi
Form in the slug slime
Growing into mushrooms
Of lunar kind
Microscopic inspection
Would doubtless reveal
An entire sub-visible thrill
Of thistle and seed
Typical of nature's industry
Of outback flotsam and debris
Underway now for a century
UBILAM
Just so we are all
up to speed --
On the same page,
Concerning chaos of age --
Noting its all the rage online
with settlers of
"New Australia Lunar" Stage
Is not a gate of heaven
by any sage...
Goats had hitchhiked
To lunar surface early
And Goat DNA had
Entered the "Errol Morris
Clone Factory" accidentally
And today was Day of the Dead
On Ubilam Beach, where
their leader calls out names
of passed away beloved
"Bedlam, Balaam, Belem, Balsam
"Bart rap, Bangles and Bartech --"
Called Bursar the Human Zy Goat
Calling out names of his dead
And departed relatives
The new races
Of New Australia
Were exceptionally strict
Well-measured and manicured
Almost Draconian ticked
They established a cemetery for pets
And a thin blue line
For security
They held festivals regularly
Such as: Misters of Death
Like today, and Fogs of War,
And, Mists of Plutonium
Or, Holographic Holocaust horror
Also, was a day of Locusts
and The Squid and the Whale
And the naming by Bursar stopped...
Even now
As new Goat Herds
Trippingly Pronk
And roust
Bounding in the kettle moraine
Of lunar surface
One of best times in their
Golden era was 7 x 6
Lunar cycles of childhoods
pre-Time when pupae
Out-birthed as humanoids
Into conditions favorable
And not toxin to clones
Mixed with mountain stock
Of venerable RAM’s analog
As factors allow
Childhoods to reach fruition
In accordance of some singularity
Known as pre-bang mechanics
Abiding no longer
Just as a mental construct
But as a mistake of science
Achieving furtherance
Through moderate living attribute
Of environmental factors and
With pollutants in abate
Meeting effectively all appraisal
For lunar base New Australia 2108
by Patrick Darnell, 05.31.2008
Some Links:
Goat Heads of the Mists gets my goat Richard Berry – Friday, February 08, 08
http://timea.rice.edu/index.html Cairo PHOTOS
Please visit the Mystery Topic Challenge Blog to view all of the other entries. Once you've read them all, please be sure to vote HERE for your favorite. Or click on these to read from here:
Mr. President
Some Go SoftlyRecently I found a news clip and article on NASA gearing up for a new moon mission. This time it’s hoping to build a lunar city. Right now it’s mainly for scientific purposes, but years from now, who knows? If anyone’s interested, you can find the news clip and article here:doodlebug has sent you a link to a blog: daddy, i loved your writing :) the photos were trippy as well Blog: MooPig Wisdom Post: MTC 12 "Unsettling Settlers" Link: http://moopigwisdom.blogspot.com/2008/05/mtc-12.html
http://sunnydreamer.net/aprjun2008/lunar_cities.shtml : http://sunnydreamer.net/
It’s 100 years later, after NASA’s inital lunar city mission. People have started to colonize the moon. You are among the colonists. Write about your reasons for leaving Earth, why you like or hate living on the moon, and any adventures you had the first month you moved there. If that’s a lot, you can just focus on a part of this challenge; that’s all right too.
http://lunar.gsfc.nasa.gov/moonfacts.html
8 comments:
Pat, this was excellent!!! I hope more people leave links through the day, because what you and Mr. Prez have written makes me crave more! I'm so glad I went with this topic.
It occurs to me that I have been working on a three-chord blues for a couple of months. I have two verses.
You, on the other hand, stack up epic poems like cord wood.
In an effort to correct this character flaw, I went to eHow and found...
"How to Write an Epic Poem"
contained therein was this..
Things You’ll Need:
# Dictionaries
# Thesauri
# Pencils
# Erasers
# Notebook Papers
# Notebooks
# Pens
# Word Processors
Notice that the needed objects are pluralized-can't get by on a Thesaurus, I'm gonna' need Thesauri! (who knew?).
Sadly, I have none of the required objects, much less plural forms of them.
I suspect from looking at your work that you are in possession of all of the above pluralized objects and am convinced that you have others in addition. (cairns-magma moat in the first stanza are a dead giveaway)
So, I shall stand down, humbled and in awe as I await further instruction.
http://www.ehow.com/how_3334_write-epic-poem.html
doodlebug has sent you a link to a blog:
daddy, i loved your writing :) the photos were trippy as well
Blog: MooPig Wisdom
Post: MTC 12 "Unsettling Settlers"
Link: http://moopigwisdom.blogspot.com/2008/05/mtc-12.html
Dear Shiloh:
I am certain that the moon will be a jumper Hub in the future. Influx of alpha Thespians will go there and be serviced.. before going on to Mars for the Big Show, half a trillion miles further out.
It is fun to be able to pick a topic in MTC, isn't it Shiloh?
We can only hope the 7-year one-way trip to Mars via Moon includes a Botox bar, and fanny grille.
I want to know more also!! I wish the optimum success to you in all that you are involved with.
Pat aka MooPig
Jack:
You surprise me... I have a secret to tell you. I started this mindless/alter ego writing habit when I was about 11, must be the age of Trust for us guys, no?
I remember I was pumped about it... really thought I was big stuff. Started a comic strip, a newsletter, before there were electric typewriters. It was as exciting for me as hitting a homerun.
Got over it as I began looking around. Soon I realized that my writing jones would be stalled if I kept thinking I was a writer. There is no rush, I felt I had a responsibility to the world to not try to push my stuff. Rather I practiced mightily in order that the voice, content, and style would harmonize as written.
So I made a concious decision at 12to not try to publish anything until I turn fifty. No kidding, I remember making that decision as if yesterday.
I continued to write stuff, and keep a box full of pieces... so that around 36 I had a good rough draft, ready for me when I hit fifty.
When I ran into you recently, I was so ecstatic... that you had not perished... that I put aside the manuscript for a time. I had been writing [humbly] a page a day, plus or minus, comes to 300 pages a year. That would be book one.
With you and your tag team I have been able to move into a better place with the writing. I am encouraged by honesty, truth, and also happenstance of the tabernacle we build in here.
As I explore my innards and put it into words... well sometimes I lose my sense of humor. Now I have found a roadside attraction to hang at when the mists ascend right up to my neck!
Thanks for all that. And be sure to give a smile for me to the Rhyming Quatros!
Explanation:
I was introduced to this style of writing when I was teaching middle schoolers in Pasadena TX, in the 90's. I came across a "truncated Poem" novel, that I can't remember the name of, and I sent it to my sister. It was about a girl on a dusty farm... during extremely hard times.
The problem for me in writing this way is that it is hard to introduce the story in the first chapters without using "obscurity."
I do not want to give the whole thing away in the first stanzas, yet somehow I want to pull you the reader in. Clues to what "might be" going on appear in the final chapters, where some plot and characters introduced, and lightly lubricated.
Otherwise I find myself "still" falling asleep around the end of my second chapter. Short short fiction is "Tough" to do, but I earnestly try to make it interesting.
Also, this note-taking style looks like it takes no time to hammer out... opposite is true of course.
Understatement, revision, and rewrite, takes much more time to write a "short-short" and this truncated poem was no exception. That is because it has to make sense of all the characters, plots, and sub-things that are introduced in a short time.
Sometimes I feel like it is a style and language of ghosts.
One tact I prefer when all else fails, is a warning from one of my college prof's -- "Never forget your readers..." Well, Shiloh made my readers those of MoonBase 2108.. as well as you here in 2008. Funny task to tackle... good swerve Shi!!
Above Jack has commented says:
You, on the other hand, stack up epic poems like cord wood.
Jack send me your down-hearted, tired and trodden and I will give you... a bunch more words. But I will never stack up a "chord" to what you do without words... old 'fella.
That's my final answer Regis, Now, all of you'se: live, pray, write, live...
(Maya said that)
"That is because it has to make sense of all the characters, plots, and sub-things that are introduced in a short time."
Painting, poetry, songwriting, writing symphonies, cooking, film making, novel writing, sculpture-they are all editing mediums. Creativity is nice. Learning to know what doesn't need to be there is hard. Knowing what doesn't need to be and taking it out is harder. It's the separator of men.
Sitting in an execs. office while she plays 15 seconds of your masterpiece then, shuts it off-"I'm not feeling it", that's an eye opener or, it should be. No more luxury of indulgence.
It's not like boxing, "the sweet science", where you size up your opponent, lull them into a trance then blow them away.
No, you got to blow them away off the bat.
Lead with the best you have. If they buy that, then you will be afforded the opportunity to display cleverness.
Good stuff PD, thanks for indulging my late ramble
Hey, you, your indulgence is my pleasure. And you thought you had only one sister.
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