Photos of dead trees

 I got the camera out
And I aimed it, what a way to get famous
Get my name out
but there was just brambles

The celebrity was so patient with me
As I fumbled my phone camera
Inverting the selfie
taking a photo of sticks

Of a dead tree
propped up against a mirror
The hardened fossil tongue of a dragon
And I never did get that photo
He had other stuff to do

Just what the identity needs
An excessively full agenda
A calender that fills the mansion wall
Celebrities like that are passing scenery
If you don't click, they just pass

The image as clear as it is
Catches dead sticks and old trees
Abandoned highways
fossilized dragon tongues
burnt out cars

Mirrors and defective cameras
screens hanging from lamposts
lopsidedly exposing parts we'd rather hide
disqualifying us from privilege

Pity eye and the backyards of our lives

 Pity eye in the back yard
Let me speak to you over the wall
This wallt hat divides us
it is too low
For I see what you do
and you see me

Pity eye your mother calls
forgets my name
she is is all chores
and I was just a game
From another life

Pity eye 
Just a distraction
Fromthe work you do
At that outdoor kitchen
In the forty degree heat

Pity eye hanging the washing
watch it dry so quickly
The sun is proclaiming
It's own glory over these backyards
So exposed to each other

Eager to help

 Elon musk hired another driver. His name was Mister Mastrus.
He was not just a driver, he was an errands guy, he was paid well.
The land was flooded that day. The weather was crazy. The driver was unable to arrive at the school. He was panicking. He just couldn't get around the huge puddles in the middle of the road. Mastrus called Elon, but Elon was occupied.
Mastrus called the A team to see if they could a helicopter in. They confirmed it. Mastruz turned the car around, drove through some very deep puddles and made his way back to the mansion.
Before he got up the driveway he already heard the chopping of the rotoblades. Then the craft came into view.
As he drove up onto the estates open carpark he wtinessed the pilot set the "Bird" down.
The cabin doors opened and the children burst out, one taunting, one excitedly running and another shouting. They all sprinted into the mansion.
The pilot leaned down and over and pulled a thumbs up to Mastrus.
Mastrus wound down the slightly tinted glass and reciprocated.
"We should get a beer later." Mastruz said.
"Oh that sounds great." The pilot said.
But the two men would never have that beer. Different paygrades.

Elon musk arriving on the surface

 Other people's agendas mist up the glass
One trillion distractions each a tiny hook
Your face draws near to the great surface
It is smooth and truthful as you try to be

The slightly pale terrain comes into sight
There will be a miracle ahead, not mysterious one
One based on Thielian ethics
A break through to sudden epiphany

Engines will become even more efficient
The mutliplanet species goal more realistic
Dare to approach the wall accept you are ready
Your eyes focus in, yes Elon it's you in the mirror

(This is not prose to criticize or mock Elon Musk, he is a genius and a visionary.)

Melting your hagstone

 
Oh sweat consumes all of my skin

Your coolness warms me up from within
Skin melts on fire I will become wet
I am becoming a sizzling mess
I seep into your floor
Highly contaminated no protection
Burning through cracks in your perception
Through this deep hole in your pavement

Becoming...

Silky radiation seering fury
Humid venus cooking like a stew
Boiling I spill into the next layer of you
Please block me with your icey resistance, just ignore me
I find a way, course through your past scars and pores
I become a stream, a firey river, I explode like war
I form forbidden hot pools causing you to thaw

I melt the frosted hagstone

This spiritual heat emanates melting it all
I penetrate your face odious and sullen
Your frigid glowing now dullens
Magma creeps over what once was frozen
I have come in the form of liquid odin
I have filled you with love 
where once there was only loathing

Variations of an echo

 I have dug and scraped
Barren soils
sarcastic mountains
pompous forests

Here in this silence
That cradles me
when the house was empty
Love was estranged

I shouted out into the nothings
Desperate my heart pumping for nothing
For my blood wasn't excited
My existence a void

I screamed out like a silly older brother
In a vacant basement
A cold dark sense of lack
Somewhere from the damp corner...

Came an echo
spinning it's tone across the hard floor
to my tiny ears
into my tiny existence

Here in this vacuous space
I heard an echo
Who blessed me when I couldn't find my heart
sitting souless like that boy I was

I have dug and scraped 
my finger nails worn down
color in the sound off the walls
I speak and she speaks back

I scream and she deafens me
I thought I was human
She shows me 
I am literally God

Terminus and train station theory

 I have been sitting here counting the minutes
Listening for the distant signs of my train
Something that would guarantee the next chapter
The big panels and ticket machines confuse eyes

Sometimes opportunity is no further than a cattle prod
I was afraid to window shop souvenirs
I wouldn't dangle legs over the side
Or play games with any oncoming train

The platform seemed to be endless
I looked down the length
swore I could see the next station
In the distance

An empty skittles packet is pushed by the wind
It comes so close to falling off the platform
Onto the tracks below like an empty person
But it didn't fall it just scraped sharply with each gust

No wind strong enough to send it on
In this huge open structure where people wait and wait
Forgetting to question forgetting to meditate
Staring at clocks, anxiety in wallets, purses and veins