tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-54937466247750938822024-03-05T00:05:05.096-08:00Pete's Sci Fi PoemsA collection of my poems that vaguely fall into the heading of Sci FiPeter Gouldinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13292063172122249202noreply@blogger.comBlogger48125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5493746624775093882.post-39970558838053652632011-04-14T13:58:00.001-07:002011-04-14T13:59:07.802-07:00Alien life<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg79r8_JlJPSRcx-x0BUcMnVBNPD1ZLcNRpztdWGH8i7VVrhOoO0IXcRrGSxQAHdFR617SGD1u8pmWi5E_sFyXu7fiLqF6IfgtNaTkOHfWQ0z5Lv2Tosb7jZXm9bIV0TTzG82qEWHp6hPY/s1600/images.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 251px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 201px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5595546575939362066" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg79r8_JlJPSRcx-x0BUcMnVBNPD1ZLcNRpztdWGH8i7VVrhOoO0IXcRrGSxQAHdFR617SGD1u8pmWi5E_sFyXu7fiLqF6IfgtNaTkOHfWQ0z5Lv2Tosb7jZXm9bIV0TTzG82qEWHp6hPY/s400/images.jpg" /></a> <br />Yes, there may be planets somewhere<br />in the coldest, furthest outposts<br />that we have not explored fully.<br />And yes, it is a possibility<br />that there might be bacteria hiding<br />underneath some scattered boulder<br />in among a thousand others<br />on a crater floor not scanned yet.<br />But generally there is consensus,<br />now we’ve spread out from our homeland<br />to the furthest constellations<br />(only dreamt of when we started)<br />that no-one else is here except us.<br /><br />Legend has it, we were cocksure<br />when we first began to travel,<br />that the data indicated<br />other tribes would be encountered<br />as we travelled through the galaxies.<br />Mathematic probability<br />told us there would be life somewhere,<br />maybe not as we imagined,<br />maybe not devolved from carbon,<br />maybe not reliant on oxygen.<br />Thus, we set off, keen and hopeful,<br />sending probes into the blackness,<br />pulsing signals through the universe,<br />waiting, waiting for an answer.<br />But as the silence roared like engines,<br />more and more we realised that<br />life was just a chance encounter<br />on one insignificant planet.<br /><br />Archeological excavations<br />on our long-dead frozen homeland<br />seem to propagate the theory<br />that in mankind’s short pre-history,<br />the earth was full of alien creatures,<br />quadrupeds that roamed in millions,<br />things that flew without a space-drive,<br />beings that survived in water,<br />tubes that slithered on their bellies,<br />and other strange exotic creatures<br />that could not move their limbs from earth<br />but fed upon the carbon dioxide.<br />But by the time that we moved onwards,<br />all of these had disappeared,<br />killed perhaps in some great battle<br />to determine master species.<br />If only we had known at that time<br />that the universe was silent,<br />perhaps we could have worked together,<br />to resolve our alien differences.Peter Gouldinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13292063172122249202noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5493746624775093882.post-13956102612618444782011-04-13T00:08:00.001-07:002011-04-13T00:09:22.789-07:00The big noses of Okravia<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisW04JCs8BAjlrJ4X_ZcpuilqsRvz_ISxNA0MWrIqKk9t9ABd58dOy9SkZ0J7goWhgL8AyrftJQoXziPzkh77o3XTe0FlSJ9iXoGLpSujWj14eJHi-jtPCeQip-OUi1EzGoYYCqoDFrmA/s1600/010874.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 267px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5594961693717768066" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisW04JCs8BAjlrJ4X_ZcpuilqsRvz_ISxNA0MWrIqKk9t9ABd58dOy9SkZ0J7goWhgL8AyrftJQoXziPzkh77o3XTe0FlSJ9iXoGLpSujWj14eJHi-jtPCeQip-OUi1EzGoYYCqoDFrmA/s400/010874.jpg" /></a><br />If you want to insult an Okravian,<br />don’t tell him he has a big nose.<br />The size of their snout<br />is all they brag about –<br />a small one just makes them morose.<br /><br />Their noses stretch down to their diaphragms,<br />corrugated like wash-machine hoses.<br />They’ll paint them and draw them<br />and constantly paw them.<br />They’re terribly proud of their noses.<br /><br />They attach heavy weights when they’re babies<br />and stretch them with pebbles as well<br />which explains why they’ve got<br />an abundance of snot<br />and possess such a great sense of smell.<br /><br />Status in Okravian circles<br />is determined by conk size alone.<br />Large hooters are cool<br />and those with them rule<br />and the largest ascends to the throne.<br /><br />So if you’ve a beak like a mallard<br />or some other aquatic avian,<br />don’t worry, don’t pout<br />at the size of your snout-<br />ask your Dad if you’re partly Okravian.Peter Gouldinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13292063172122249202noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5493746624775093882.post-88990084659808300582011-04-12T23:54:00.001-07:002011-04-12T23:55:03.961-07:00Semi sexual<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYY_tvvNbzHyD7uYhnzYE9C5nhhHTVB-9A4AFmKiaIqijLzx-I5n5iiZHNHwnb0_k9oM_NC3WNKnbSrJwzBaAgipWWqGIj904pi5fbr4KYmK7sIW5xOzYJV9z-FNuZ1_S36zsSC-HCXyo/s1600/imagesCAP6BJP8.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 278px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 181px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5594957979510168322" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYY_tvvNbzHyD7uYhnzYE9C5nhhHTVB-9A4AFmKiaIqijLzx-I5n5iiZHNHwnb0_k9oM_NC3WNKnbSrJwzBaAgipWWqGIj904pi5fbr4KYmK7sIW5xOzYJV9z-FNuZ1_S36zsSC-HCXyo/s400/imagesCAP6BJP8.jpg" /></a><br /><br /><br />“How primitive you Earthlings are!”<br />the Sirian guffawed<br />and all his mates<br />slapped shiny pates<br />and shook with one accord.<br /><br />“You mean to say your race is split<br />‘twixt one sex and the other?<br />So it takes two<br />to spawn a crew – <br />a father and a mother?<br /><br />‘In every other race in space,<br />one being is sufficient.<br />But you must ‘mate’<br />to germinate?<br />My God! How inefficient”<br /><br />“That’s how we like it,” Rasher said,<br />“however you construe it.<br />But that’s not all-<br />you’ll have a ball<br />when you hear how we do it!”Peter Gouldinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13292063172122249202noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5493746624775093882.post-47577494811332728382011-04-11T11:11:00.001-07:002011-04-11T11:13:38.462-07:00Fleecing the natives<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjp2tE7mbPd4zvFFR1G8th-tR2xRDBrn96zXNJkjOti18rxNU4ck9SEwzLI7_49O0MWoSWBrETeSNyDLS5MTGDl7Vhz6g-d489eduzEXeGD72y8SxEO0dT6WCuGslr1BxV6anHPLlbeyIE/s1600/Double-Breasted-Suit-Navy_0669D7B2.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 230px; height: 230px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjp2tE7mbPd4zvFFR1G8th-tR2xRDBrn96zXNJkjOti18rxNU4ck9SEwzLI7_49O0MWoSWBrETeSNyDLS5MTGDl7Vhz6g-d489eduzEXeGD72y8SxEO0dT6WCuGslr1BxV6anHPLlbeyIE/s400/Double-Breasted-Suit-Navy_0669D7B2.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5594390488761865282" /></a><br />They arrived here one day<br />from a star far away<br />and announced that they wanted to trade.<br />They came down in New Delhi<br />and the world watched on telly<br />as the first introductions were made.<br /><br />They looked like large lizards<br />with external gizzards<br />and antennae that hovered and quivered.<br />And we gawped at the features<br />of these alien creatures<br />or crouched behind armchairs and shivered.<br /><br />Well they gave us quixonium<br />and a ton of vulconium<br />and the secret of hyperspace travel,<br />an elixir of youth,<br />a diviner of truth<br />and a prettily-shaped wooden gavel.<br /><br />They cured all diseases<br />from cancer to sneezes<br />and gave us a tele-transporter<br />and a device to read minds,<br />some Neptunian blinds<br />and some shoes that could walk over water.<br /><br />In return they requested<br />two suits, double-breasted<br />and woven from pure polycotton.<br />Then their engines ignited<br />and they flew off, delighted<br />at the wonderful bargain they’d gotten.Peter Gouldinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13292063172122249202noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5493746624775093882.post-65065928399254714262011-04-11T11:01:00.001-07:002011-04-11T11:02:15.194-07:00Thirteen ships<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcq1O_4h-RBriOQdPAcsf4TIi0nrwm6Wa2s3tjv0orhwQG5Yca56qhlnbAWIiUbBZy-8-BcRCv18uQw6nUee3K0DLbwRpPrcI3HyZAWLwoG9Far0Pbtc7h2AWXan1bSxyHjgrcHl1G1pk/s1600/titan.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcq1O_4h-RBriOQdPAcsf4TIi0nrwm6Wa2s3tjv0orhwQG5Yca56qhlnbAWIiUbBZy-8-BcRCv18uQw6nUee3K0DLbwRpPrcI3HyZAWLwoG9Far0Pbtc7h2AWXan1bSxyHjgrcHl1G1pk/s400/titan.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5594387791413110082" /></a><br />Thirteen ships and none came back<br />from Titan’s atmosphere.<br />They vanished deep into the black<br />and did not reappear.<br /><br />What befell the ships and crew?<br />Alas, we’ve no idea.<br />No signal gave us half a clue<br />how we should move from here.<br /><br />How is it that thirteen ships<br />can simply disappear.<br />The radar screen no longer blips<br />for reasons still unclear.<br /><br />Theories on the web abound –<br />did Voltoids interfere?<br />Did they come down on marshy ground?<br />Or was it diarrhoea?<br /><br />Were the spaceships washed away<br />on some magnetic weir?<br />Did Gozons, seeking an affray,<br />attack them from the rear?<br /><br />Is there something most aggressive<br />most of us should fear?<br />Something precious and possessive,<br />destroying all things near.<br /><br />The families demand we act<br />to find their near and dear,<br />although they know, in actual fact,<br />a search will bring small cheer.<br /><br />Thirteen ships abruptly snatched<br />in Titan’s stratosphere.<br />Should number fourteen be despatched?<br />Who wants to volunteer?Peter Gouldinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13292063172122249202noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5493746624775093882.post-5452545012123732082011-04-11T10:51:00.001-07:002011-04-11T10:52:01.507-07:00Sofas in a cornfield<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiO2oVMt_Dz_PKR-rzuLVj1r-pfCIfVZhmihrCjiWfLFC0jIbjGKIKLc9ahzCV7i8PpBuQhKWYi1X4wFctGN78JRnQIMUITaMBUrV7fpm4ioS7kApd6eDm1d1sxMo6NK3dYh9AiYqdah48/s1600/Poetry+Bus+chairs+in+snow.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 274px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiO2oVMt_Dz_PKR-rzuLVj1r-pfCIfVZhmihrCjiWfLFC0jIbjGKIKLc9ahzCV7i8PpBuQhKWYi1X4wFctGN78JRnQIMUITaMBUrV7fpm4ioS7kApd6eDm1d1sxMo6NK3dYh9AiYqdah48/s400/Poetry+Bus+chairs+in+snow.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5594385174948399522" /></a><br />We’ve travelled quite a distance just to pay you guys a visit.<br />What a lovely place you had! We find it quite exquisite,<br />the little farmhouse built, it seems from wood and bricks and mortar,<br />the fields of corn now covered in what looks like frozen water.<br /><br />As visitors, of course, we could not land here empty-handed.<br />We had to bring a present, but to be extremely candid,<br />you didn’t seem to like the gift we left for you last summer,<br />judging by the way that you described it as a bummer.<br /><br />You see, back on our planet, the circle is revered –<br />the geometric formula has all but disappeared.<br />And so we thought it neighbourly to pull out all the stops<br />and sculpt a perfect circle in the middle of your crops.<br /><br />But sadly, it appears ‘twas not the perfect choice of present<br />(as I recall, you stamped your feet and mouthed words most unpleasant.)<br />We think that this new gift of ours is really quite delectable<br />and hope you find these sofas just a little more acceptable.Peter Gouldinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13292063172122249202noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5493746624775093882.post-61885015169188682102011-04-11T10:49:00.001-07:002011-04-11T10:49:49.239-07:00The last time I was there<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoIblokRuyPDMrFkbM1mmE_Vl4Ns8ufXaETaQnM0v1xdChTAm43ic9EbDtdjDqqQ7FUZ0tw1sX21yWuVBLGeXFdTXDmoF2006HgHixUbZTofyWIKAB17woZpA7bv1M16Cnuu2IdzYfbI8/s1600/apathy_02.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 273px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoIblokRuyPDMrFkbM1mmE_Vl4Ns8ufXaETaQnM0v1xdChTAm43ic9EbDtdjDqqQ7FUZ0tw1sX21yWuVBLGeXFdTXDmoF2006HgHixUbZTofyWIKAB17woZpA7bv1M16Cnuu2IdzYfbI8/s400/apathy_02.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5594384601295782178" /></a><br />The last time I was there, it really saddened me<br />that they had shrugged their shoulders and accepted it –<br />the inertia of humanity had maddened me.<br /><br />Some claimed perhaps they should have intercepted it<br />and tried to blow that comet off trajectory<br />but most just shrugged their shoulders and accepted it.<br /><br />The ballot, as announced, was ex-directory.<br />Rigged, of course, but still there was no clamour<br />to blow that lethal comet off trajectory.<br /><br />Did they roam the streets with axe and hammer<br />as the airlift blew its smoke upon the doomed?<br />Twigged, of course, but still there was no clamour<br /><br />as the rich flew off as the Day of Judgement loomed<br />with me a tiny stowaway in the hold.<br />I watched the plumes of smoke blot out the doomed<br /><br />but saw the meek acceptance of the old.<br />The last time I was there, yes, it had saddened me<br />but more, though just a stowaway in the hold,<br />the inertia of humanity had maddened me.Peter Gouldinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13292063172122249202noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5493746624775093882.post-67266631681350419842011-04-11T10:46:00.001-07:002011-04-11T10:47:28.501-07:00An equanimity of being<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwnpD_rU3mZNWZhbu2qbCwpC2xrSx0MvFTGI_u0x0GEQ934uCeTumD8A7iUaKHEbpmI5_T9wp_09o3CEu9l1SeOKtcSxYC24uH39I8c3ZIsNXPg3xWckhdEFuM09ZWOisQMPdsSJ1bk8Y/s1600/field-of-corn-in-illinois-il773.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwnpD_rU3mZNWZhbu2qbCwpC2xrSx0MvFTGI_u0x0GEQ934uCeTumD8A7iUaKHEbpmI5_T9wp_09o3CEu9l1SeOKtcSxYC24uH39I8c3ZIsNXPg3xWckhdEFuM09ZWOisQMPdsSJ1bk8Y/s400/field-of-corn-in-illinois-il773.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5594383995489610674" /></a><br />And so I wait<br />to meet my fate<br />amid the ears of corn.<br />The deep blue sky<br />seems very high<br />upon this tragic morn.<br />No gentle breeze <br />stirs distant trees –<br />the stillness is complete.<br />I’m all alone<br />with all I own<br />within this field of wheat.<br /><br />There’s not a cloud<br />to be my shroud –<br />the sun shines warm and bright.<br />To reminisce <br />on days like this<br />would be a false delight.<br />I turn my head<br />and watch instead<br />an ant explore my arm.<br />Not long to wait,<br />he’ll share my fate<br />on Matt O’Driscoll’s farm.<br /><br />I cannot spot<br />the tiny dot<br />but know it must be nearing.<br />There is no doubt,<br />they’ve worked it out,<br />it should be soon appearing.<br />Death from the sky,<br />the end is nigh.<br />The air weighs on me quickly.<br />We can’t avoid<br />the asteroid –<br />at least we’ll all go quickly.Peter Gouldinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13292063172122249202noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5493746624775093882.post-58001333896173818952009-12-05T14:16:00.001-08:002009-12-05T14:17:14.163-08:00Exhibits<div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsQVwhfvN_yfV1wm53WL_OnJFudtsuxPnh89rnoy5X0YjHPPqIzUNdin_yvjT3T2P19xI1NPHVi7YXmMdWdw4M4kM3XvnOLU_vUPeDzeMKyPEfAw4RJxyT4ph377DDSJpX7LE_LBCgY1Y/s1600-h/7559601_8fb95b31d9.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5411879599371318418" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsQVwhfvN_yfV1wm53WL_OnJFudtsuxPnh89rnoy5X0YjHPPqIzUNdin_yvjT3T2P19xI1NPHVi7YXmMdWdw4M4kM3XvnOLU_vUPeDzeMKyPEfAw4RJxyT4ph377DDSJpX7LE_LBCgY1Y/s400/7559601_8fb95b31d9.jpg" border="0" /></a> It came through the clouds with a great sonic boom,<br />I watched it descend from a height.<br />The alien ship landed outside Macroom,<br />Oh God! What a wonderful sight!<br /><br />The lights were all blazing, its body span round<br />As I sat on the gate with my friend.<br />I felt the earth shake as the wheels touched ground<br />And we both watched the ladder descend.<br /><br />‘Twas like a great robot with green flashing eyes<br />And it held a great butterfly net.<br />Myself and Lucille were struck dumb with surprise –<br />For how long though, I find I forget.<br /><br />And then came a flash and a bit of a buzz<br />And up through the ether we flew<br />And we woke to find aliens gawping at us<br />As exhibits in some far-off zoo.<br /><br /></div>Peter Gouldinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13292063172122249202noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5493746624775093882.post-67664018880797494412009-10-26T16:16:00.001-07:002011-04-11T11:04:39.220-07:00Choice<div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAFpTHnTXPS0bL5AeNnuw-Bk8J8U-UDJ1KHTI08wqlMeQ4PaouESkFXBQD9L-wQ7FR_64N1TH5yyIzOuEXbwdZyc1GgizGcIw7Nuq_YGzzgCpJt52oGMDL1aJLufB_ZAuhABpz_Yd4iqg/s1600-h/glamis-sand-dunes.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5397051585549044946" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAFpTHnTXPS0bL5AeNnuw-Bk8J8U-UDJ1KHTI08wqlMeQ4PaouESkFXBQD9L-wQ7FR_64N1TH5yyIzOuEXbwdZyc1GgizGcIw7Nuq_YGzzgCpJt52oGMDL1aJLufB_ZAuhABpz_Yd4iqg/s400/glamis-sand-dunes.jpg" border="0" /></a> This was it, she thought, cradling him in arms<br />that would never hold another. The sun<br />beat down on the last of the old yeast farms,<br />now mouldy. She sobbed and glanced at the gun<br />that they had primed and left. The burden bore<br />down on her shoulders. Was it the right<br />thing to do, or should she allow the night<br />to swallow her up, the natural law?<br />But did it matter? No-one left to judge<br />or point long weatherbeaten fingers.<br />But still, she thought, the suspicion lingers<br />that history might bear a lasting grudge.<br />A sand-encrusted tear ran down her face,<br />like the frenzied survivor of its race.<br /><br /></div>Peter Gouldinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13292063172122249202noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5493746624775093882.post-69129490348654708812009-07-30T07:51:00.000-07:002009-07-30T07:54:34.204-07:00Strategic Defence System<div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinfNRi5xRCpG1QOd3aRi2nwONc37Gdy424OlOnQSe0JvbRE1mcxs2pogzxC8cxiC3QsyOjh_wsnwuJSzrnjIXhuENn11GEzBv_UDJWeNSeUNXBd2rbYOkZzhyphenhyphen5NRFpvoLTdn05dWP5jnQ/s1600-h/BC_School_Laser_Show_May_2005_Small.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5364266601668479218" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 234px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinfNRi5xRCpG1QOd3aRi2nwONc37Gdy424OlOnQSe0JvbRE1mcxs2pogzxC8cxiC3QsyOjh_wsnwuJSzrnjIXhuENn11GEzBv_UDJWeNSeUNXBd2rbYOkZzhyphenhyphen5NRFpvoLTdn05dWP5jnQ/s400/BC_School_Laser_Show_May_2005_Small.jpg" border="0" /></a> The spaceship sat high above the planet<br />Scanning the surface with its radar dish.<br />It resembled a hovering gannet<br />Waiting above the ocean for a fish.<br />“Still no break,” grunted Kovacs yet again.<br />“The entire planet appears to be criss-crossed<br />By radio waves. Our ship would be tossed<br />And battered if we came down. It’s insane!”<br />“This is a waste of time,” said Captain Drake.<br />“We’ll try the next one. Makes you wonder why<br />A planet should go to such lengths to try<br />To hide its secrets. We can’t even make<br />Communication.” Below, like strange clones,<br />Another ten million people reached for their phones.<br /><br /></div>Peter Gouldinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13292063172122249202noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5493746624775093882.post-22240264505686879662009-07-10T06:23:00.001-07:002009-07-10T06:24:26.148-07:00Invasion imminent<div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcAPvFLW4sk59jFHyZC901NVfTsVfNlT2tgJZ5-wtFQWpPpF4C2tIbrv0eA41l34qy7ZCo2wuLSiURHFBwi8APS3SCTfjss__ydTZm-hPgvjowC8WSUoG7hdx7-8cVAD2e6jpUwHheY7E/s1600-h/hole.bmp"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5356821678521823554" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcAPvFLW4sk59jFHyZC901NVfTsVfNlT2tgJZ5-wtFQWpPpF4C2tIbrv0eA41l34qy7ZCo2wuLSiURHFBwi8APS3SCTfjss__ydTZm-hPgvjowC8WSUoG7hdx7-8cVAD2e6jpUwHheY7E/s400/hole.bmp" border="0" /></a> It seems they’ve set their evil plan in motion<br />And secretly released those greenhouse gases.<br />The gaping hole above the Southern Ocean<br />Will spell the end of our collective asses.<br /><br />The only thing in space they feared was ozone.<br />The strongest of their missiles couldn’t dent it.<br />A world with such a layer was a no-go zone<br />Until they found a way to circumvent it.<br /><br />And, as the hole grows larger, they’ll come streaming<br />Through the layer that once protected us.<br />And we’ll fall victim to their dev’lish scheming<br />And suffer as a conquered planet does.<br /><br />It will be a lamentable occasion<br />When conquered by these warlike Cosmic elves,<br />But the worst thing in regard to this invasion –<br />We’ll think we’ve orchestrated it ourselves.<br /><br /></div>Peter Gouldinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13292063172122249202noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5493746624775093882.post-38576951339910256042009-03-03T00:36:00.001-08:002009-03-03T00:37:21.610-08:00He was only gone a minute<div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlPiNKsLDz8EAUcMRg41TZc0-5l09XFIKNl8PsMrTbWx7BQKq9irRZtuze-DUCxZUCi2CrIbzMzvIr8njCc26J0PFDZXDRVtTfPvC6PUdUdj7S7b7ALfxDTaEolAYHJGc6aFxs3cd-M2k/s1600-h/ark.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5308877707265225266" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 298px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlPiNKsLDz8EAUcMRg41TZc0-5l09XFIKNl8PsMrTbWx7BQKq9irRZtuze-DUCxZUCi2CrIbzMzvIr8njCc26J0PFDZXDRVtTfPvC6PUdUdj7S7b7ALfxDTaEolAYHJGc6aFxs3cd-M2k/s400/ark.jpg" border="0" /></a> He was only gone a minute.<br />He’d been distracted by a question<br />From a student with a clipboard,<br />Who’d a problem generating<br />Small amoeba on his planet.<br /><br />He was only gone a minute<br />But it was a crucial minute,<br />For the water level gauge<br />Which was increased just a fraction<br />Needed further realignment.<br /><br />Weeks of work were nearly wasted<br />As the life-forms cultivated<br />In the foaming global test-tube<br />Nearly vanished altogether<br />In the mass of rising water.<br /><br />It must be said that quick reactions<br />When he realised his faux pas<br />And turned down the rising water<br />To a life-supporting level<br />Averted a great calamity.<br /><br />And it was a stroke of fortune<br />That a tiny microcosm<br />Of each species bred and reared<br />Had been saved from mass extinction,<br />Floating on a tiny splinter.<br /><br /></div>Peter Gouldinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13292063172122249202noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5493746624775093882.post-11345960009448395692009-02-23T12:32:00.001-08:002009-02-23T12:33:41.963-08:00Retribution<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOTo8PcCoLPWaGGvwq2cbAiVqW2Tzdn-f_GxJDA37-inIP18XcCvP5a52jjCZvXXi8aexf7RmwTAtv-7TmUKilCJ3y970J-025gFggJK9QOY739A_Ch8smL1K_dh-f7dHS12U2HrAdq9s/s1600-h/Space%2520Walk1.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5306093592853907394" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 328px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOTo8PcCoLPWaGGvwq2cbAiVqW2Tzdn-f_GxJDA37-inIP18XcCvP5a52jjCZvXXi8aexf7RmwTAtv-7TmUKilCJ3y970J-025gFggJK9QOY739A_Ch8smL1K_dh-f7dHS12U2HrAdq9s/s400/Space%2520Walk1.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div align="center">Stepping through the door, the warden laid<br />A kindly hand upon Sanchez’ arm.<br />“Head up, son, and do not be afraid.<br /><br />You will be most speedily conveyed<br />To your maker with angelic calm.”<br />Thus was the warden’s final card played.<br /><br />Sanchez did not launch a loud tirade<br />Against this institutional smarm.<br />Arms outstretched and fingers tautly splayed,<br /><br />He smiled at the warden’s masquerade,<br />Then turned to the door without a qualm.<br />The warden stepped out again, dismayed<br /><br />At a law so archaic and unweighed.<br />Breathing deep, he turned on the alarm.<br />The door slid shut. He said a decade<br /><br />Of the rosary. The far door made<br />No sound. The remnant of a last psalm<br />Died, as the full horror did pervade.<br /><br />Like the bullet that killed the housemaid,<br />Spat in haste by his trembling firearm,<br />Sanchez shot into the cold arcade.</div>Peter Gouldinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13292063172122249202noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5493746624775093882.post-76844991155032998592009-02-09T12:59:00.001-08:002009-02-09T13:00:42.899-08:00The final star<div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLIsl-TXdk0GsPyAm8kbRCzQ8_XYcOWd7dIdL1jD6aO2-ApVpptT6nYjescSvXojy3bVBv9RJ1hvpcE9llUVS-EVKrp_2wLAFtoUPE0QJUjM66mxtTLIxqvpumK-sFL-cb_-8owrIDQx0/s1600-h/space.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5300905403904040210" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 311px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLIsl-TXdk0GsPyAm8kbRCzQ8_XYcOWd7dIdL1jD6aO2-ApVpptT6nYjescSvXojy3bVBv9RJ1hvpcE9llUVS-EVKrp_2wLAFtoUPE0QJUjM66mxtTLIxqvpumK-sFL-cb_-8owrIDQx0/s400/space.jpg" border="0" /></a> When the final star<br />Is just a dot behind you,<br />When you’ve gone as far<br />As anyone can go,<br />That’s the very place<br />The inner voice will find you<br />And God’s pure grace<br />Will doubtless start to flow.<br /><br />When all ahead<br />Is night and night forever,<br />When light has fled<br />And darkness closes in,<br />He’ll come to you<br />E’en though you mightn’t ever<br />Have known the true<br />Indifference of sin.<br /><br />And though the course<br />Is destined to end badly,<br />You’ll feel his force<br />Around you as you fly.<br />And when your ship<br />Begins to shudder madly,<br />He’ll smoothe your trip<br />And close your panicked eye.<br /><br /></div>Peter Gouldinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13292063172122249202noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5493746624775093882.post-3543853722674292442009-01-29T12:45:00.000-08:002009-01-29T12:46:56.604-08:00Vanished<div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiy6k3pBZZmP8Pk-yoDlBBqYvv4TKovWXXbWAD1gOBXQPC7wpcDYLcGtttdXX_3jkyjxz356YemMsVv5d3phia14mYVtTgXM695q-KKFm0NxAhwy4oey3zVZkzyRyKHMtOk3p0vnllB4lA/s1600-h/the-vanished-2006-japanese-horror.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5296819890560556946" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 284px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiy6k3pBZZmP8Pk-yoDlBBqYvv4TKovWXXbWAD1gOBXQPC7wpcDYLcGtttdXX_3jkyjxz356YemMsVv5d3phia14mYVtTgXM695q-KKFm0NxAhwy4oey3zVZkzyRyKHMtOk3p0vnllB4lA/s400/the-vanished-2006-japanese-horror.jpg" border="0" /></a> Nobody was sure what became of wee Ron.<br />One sec he was there, and the next he was gone.<br /><br />It reminded the neighbours of eight year old Claire<br />Who vanished one Tuesday night into thin air.<br /><br />And Jimmy McLoughlin and Michelle McGrane<br />Who emitted a “Pop!” and were ne’er seen again.<br /><br />Another dimension?<br />Who knows what befell<br />Young Jimmy and Claire and wee Ron and Michelle?<br />.<br /></div>Peter Gouldinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13292063172122249202noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5493746624775093882.post-81951632441184261792009-01-14T15:36:00.000-08:002009-01-15T07:50:21.312-08:00Racism 2108<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjz-h5JyylD8BxV1urkI_VdYu8awzJhvVjl_JgS0j2AXUCloFa2ujGxh73mr6y3eZa8pjgsgOy41POOyHSuKVdw6rrSv1gaxupFiNoRubaJK9k10T9bCOoLTYESAL9GcIxsVMT7TUMUNbM/s1600-h/spaceport-concept.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5291548361185628898" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 278px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjz-h5JyylD8BxV1urkI_VdYu8awzJhvVjl_JgS0j2AXUCloFa2ujGxh73mr6y3eZa8pjgsgOy41POOyHSuKVdw6rrSv1gaxupFiNoRubaJK9k10T9bCOoLTYESAL9GcIxsVMT7TUMUNbM/s400/spaceport-concept.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div align="center">The Jovian economy’s overheated.<br />It’s meltdown on a quite enormous scale.<br />The planet’s market forces are depleted<br />And thereby hangs a cautionary tale.<br /><br />We need to cut back greatly on our borrowing.<br />We need to rein the banks in very fast.<br />If we don’t there will be no tomorrowing,<br />Our present rate of spending cannot last…<br /><br />There’s been an influx from the Giant Planet,<br />These Jovians work hard for little pay.<br />Immigration? Some say we should ban it,<br />There’s not enough to go around today.<br /><br />Why don’t they go to Venus or to Saturn?<br />Why are they always drawn to Mother Earth?<br />Each solar crisis follows this same pattern,<br />Regression to the planet of life’s birth.<br /><br />If we allow them all in willy-nilly,<br />It isn’t only Earthlings who will suffer.<br />The present laws are spurious and silly –<br />It’s time our well-paid leaders made them tougher.<br /><br />The liberals point out our own global crisis<br />When billions had to leave our choking lands<br />And populate those worlds where hard-packed ice is<br />More prevalent than warm inviting sands.<br /><br />But that was way back then. The story’s altered<br />And economic migrants keep arriving.<br />It’s no surprise the Jovian dollar faltered<br />And left their banking system far from thriving.<br /><br />Of course their culture has to be respected<br />Their ethics and morality are renowned,<br />But if our living standards are affected,<br />It’s time we drew the line and stood our ground.</div>Peter Gouldinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13292063172122249202noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5493746624775093882.post-70785007981046611632009-01-14T15:01:00.000-08:002009-01-15T07:47:04.432-08:00The day the music really died<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgtAoKCwwEBjsLW_T76zuFAEmMotqD6LnHiwyIErD4UDgi3d5nf22HyazBUiAXYe94BFPOibMvyW9QJjJbfd8dCbsZJmg98_JRJFl0R056SGxTT3Xd_PfSiGfX0-qktpEDbkAYA8Sj2II/s1600-h/music%2520note5.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5291547480898738850" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 386px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgtAoKCwwEBjsLW_T76zuFAEmMotqD6LnHiwyIErD4UDgi3d5nf22HyazBUiAXYe94BFPOibMvyW9QJjJbfd8dCbsZJmg98_JRJFl0R056SGxTT3Xd_PfSiGfX0-qktpEDbkAYA8Sj2II/s400/music%2520note5.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div align="center">No storm clouds blotted out the sky,<br />No thunder crashed in doom-filled peals.<br />No trumpets blared the news on high,<br />No chariots of fire sped by<br />On rolling, flashing wheels.<br /><br />‘Twas just a day wherein the breeze<br />Roved lightly over hedge and street<br />And rustled leaves in stately trees<br />In pleasant seventeen degrees<br />Of lazy springtime heat.<br /><br />But dotted all around the world,<br />No-one could soothe the songsmiths’ feelings.<br />And imprecations long were hurled<br />And smoke from ashtrays gaily curled<br />On up to blackened ceilings.<br /><br />For though they paced with frantic tread,<br />No songs of note could be composed.<br />It was as if the Muse had fled<br />From every earnest songsmith’s head,<br />Or resolutely dozed.<br /><br />Whatever set of notes they strummed<br />Or plucked, or sang with voices fair,<br />Whatever mournful tune they hummed,<br />One by one they all succumbed<br />To tearing out their hair.<br /><br />For every song that could be writ<br />Had now been writ. And though they blew<br />And drew their bows, and though they bit<br />Their bottom lips, they had to quit<br />Composing something new.<br /><br />And after days and weeks, they cried<br />And flung their fiddles in the bin.<br />It was the day the music died<br />When every songsmith joined the tide<br />And packed the business in.<br /><br />And no more music e’er was heard,<br />No rise and fall of pitch and tone,<br />And though it might seem quite absurd,<br />Each hitherto expressive bird<br />Now chirped in monotone.<br /><br />And soon a dark’ning gloom descended,<br />Blacker still than any night.<br />The Music Age abruptly ended,<br />The grasping claws of death extended,<br />Blocking out the light.<br />.</div>Peter Gouldinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13292063172122249202noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5493746624775093882.post-5838735514349616442008-11-27T08:26:00.001-08:002008-11-27T08:35:01.754-08:00The Astravore<div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZqaiStZNPZLe3MKfglkiaHVCuj-J7hhJOJPAPdOTbSwrPwpySlBfGsS7EMS3iXhzuEwgfUCXviNQnNHBsX1kab1SOFQcx1L1_Vl8Knjztlgb-pI2Ik4FqIw1khYIuIeqBt_Mm50QHbNs/s1600-h/dragon_attacks2-med.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5273374864348008450" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZqaiStZNPZLe3MKfglkiaHVCuj-J7hhJOJPAPdOTbSwrPwpySlBfGsS7EMS3iXhzuEwgfUCXviNQnNHBsX1kab1SOFQcx1L1_Vl8Knjztlgb-pI2Ik4FqIw1khYIuIeqBt_Mm50QHbNs/s400/dragon_attacks2-med.jpg" border="0" /></a>Oh earth, beware!<br />You should prepare<br />To cower before<br />The Astravore.<br /><br />With fearsome scowl<br />And thund’rous growl,<br />The Astravore<br />Keeps wanting more.<br /><br />His hungry face<br />Roves large through space.<br />How men deplore<br />The Astravore!<br /><br />He’ll munch a sun<br />And when he’s done,<br />The Astravore<br />Spits out the core.<br /><br />His habits make<br />Star systems quake.<br />You won’t ignore<br />The Astravore.<br /><br />His breath is stale,<br />Galaxies quail.<br />The Astravore<br />Eats planets raw.<br /><br />Long term schemes<br />And plans and dreams<br />Have one great flaw –<br />The Astravore.<br /><br />He hears no plea.<br />You cannot flee<br />The Astravore<br />And his great jaw.<br /><br />He gobbles stars<br />Like choc’late bars,<br />Then chews a straw –<br />The Astravore.<br /><br />Stop and chat<br />And chew the fat?<br />The Astravore<br />Brooks no rapport.<br /><br />Some fearful suns<br />Are building guns<br />To underscore<br />The Astravore.<br /><br />But he’ll win out<br />Without a doubt.<br />The Astravore<br />Will relish war.<br /><br />Its best, they say,<br />To creep away.<br />Discretion, or<br />The Astravore?<br /></div>Peter Gouldinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13292063172122249202noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5493746624775093882.post-15091325547174443812008-11-09T19:23:00.000-08:002008-11-09T19:25:02.427-08:00The lie<div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6TIpCuRnbu2x8sFfSsZJLswe61pEqbTzyyfdRGIgZsT_Q5hEEAxapH_QuxBMEhLtApZPk876TI5l9kZXfPED30YnA33BerC06H3XY0Eym4ypf4KpdTkcdgtfBc6I4Vy6WWncGDl7_WkA/s1600-h/snowfall.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5266864331302943186" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 375px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6TIpCuRnbu2x8sFfSsZJLswe61pEqbTzyyfdRGIgZsT_Q5hEEAxapH_QuxBMEhLtApZPk876TI5l9kZXfPED30YnA33BerC06H3XY0Eym4ypf4KpdTkcdgtfBc6I4Vy6WWncGDl7_WkA/s400/snowfall.jpg" border="0" /></a> One night, the stars came floating down<br />Like paratroopers, bathed in light.<br />They fell on countryside and town<br />And fields and roofs were clothed in white,<br />Cold starflakes silent as the night.<br /><br />They say the moon came down as well<br />And landed near Trincomalee<br />And natives set off through the swell<br />To where they thought that it should be,<br />But it had sunk beneath the sea.<br /><br />Three days the starfall cloaked the earth<br />And then it slowly turned to slush<br />Till soon there wasn’t tuppenceworth<br />Between Portrush and Hindu Kush.<br />And then there fell a deathly hush<br /><br />As all the world looked up and saw<br />The inside of a jet-black dome.<br />No pinpricks twinkling as before –<br />Just us, squashed in our dismal home,<br />Our squalid, lonely hippodrome.<br /><br />And then, when realisation hit,<br />We marched upon the college gates<br />With oil-swabbed torches brightly lit<br />And flung them on mendacious slates<br />And blocked the doors with burning crates.<br /><br />And to the media too, for they<br />Had propagated all those lies.<br />No mercy. By the light of day<br />Those bastards were cut down to size,<br />No more to gloat and moralise.<br /><br />And then the churches and the banks<br />And Government buildings and the shops.<br />We razed the world in armoured tanks<br />And burnt out forests, deserts, crops,<br />Then set ablaze the mountain tops.<br /><br />And soon the whole world was on fire<br />And night time was no longer black<br />And raucous voices formed a choir,<br />As choking ash rained down like flak.<br />Alone. There could be no way back.<br /><br /></div>Peter Gouldinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13292063172122249202noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5493746624775093882.post-63468027691037012482008-10-31T03:12:00.000-07:002008-10-31T03:17:37.778-07:00Creation<div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjw8-8V2r4J6lfUYSWjSN4dpK3IbM0QQDCd-z2Xl-7QrXhUtlk6K2uRbMqRyc_SMxWik1MHDnv0ArmJSBPGzy9B60pTjOTsTYeRHDoq1A8UTS00f71nrQmiQgyfu3tDTFSCDX9EdbIc_Xg/s1600-h/ocean.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5263259993640674738" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 297px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjw8-8V2r4J6lfUYSWjSN4dpK3IbM0QQDCd-z2Xl-7QrXhUtlk6K2uRbMqRyc_SMxWik1MHDnv0ArmJSBPGzy9B60pTjOTsTYeRHDoq1A8UTS00f71nrQmiQgyfu3tDTFSCDX9EdbIc_Xg/s400/ocean.jpg" border="0" /></a> The pilot said a prayer for fecund seas,<br />As millions of amoeba floated down,<br />Borne lightly on the soft primaeval breeze<br /><br />To flourish in the ocean? Or to drown?<br />The hull was empty now. He turned for home,<br />As millions of amoeba floated down<br /><br />To thrive or die beneath the rolling foam<br />Which scientists had deemed a likely place.<br />The hull was empty now. He turned for home,<br /><br />Imagining the culture of this race<br />Light years from now upon this barren world,<br />Which scientists had deemed a likely place.<br /><br />What wondrous future had he just unfurled?<br />The human race descended to its birth<br />Light years from now upon this barren world.<br /><br />“It’s good,” he thought and, as he gazed on earth,<br />The pilot said a prayer for fecund seas.<br />The human race descended to its birth,<br />Borne lightly on the soft primaeval breeze.<br /><div></div><br /></div>Peter Gouldinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13292063172122249202noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5493746624775093882.post-11854047783022379672008-10-21T18:29:00.001-07:002008-10-21T18:31:25.701-07:00Whoops!<div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqtzqUJ25Ln-HwU-NLfeKAmW13207CgZFBJ_FJnqW6dUw4cW8py7vfUfk1LLwcFI4DmCvjpjFiEUp36yDSsxQeZQUWj1Hd2at4rV2HCkckjQp9GY9Jo691L7qyb4RCLlkPTzfzlpJngQU/s1600-h/apollo.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5259784426493408786" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqtzqUJ25Ln-HwU-NLfeKAmW13207CgZFBJ_FJnqW6dUw4cW8py7vfUfk1LLwcFI4DmCvjpjFiEUp36yDSsxQeZQUWj1Hd2at4rV2HCkckjQp9GY9Jo691L7qyb4RCLlkPTzfzlpJngQU/s400/apollo.jpg" border="0" /></a>The spacemen climbed out of the capsule,</div><div align="center">And went for a walk on the moon.</div><div align="center">They told the pilot to wait for an hour,</div><div align="center">They were sure to be back pretty soon.</div><div align="center"> </div><div align="center">But one of their watches was faulty,</div><div align="center">The one they were relying upon,</div><div align="center">And when they got back to the launch pad,</div><div align="center">Apollo 8-40 had gone.</div><div align="center"> </div><div align="center">The pilot splashed down in the ocean</div><div align="center">To great universal applause,</div><div align="center">Till somebody casually asked him</div><div align="center">“Hey, Bob, where’s those comrades of yours?”<br /></div>Peter Gouldinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13292063172122249202noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5493746624775093882.post-5043337260453829512008-09-30T21:29:00.000-07:002008-09-30T21:30:35.932-07:00Godless<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhH8GkzFgcGP5zvNHbb1zyVw9h0b04KiInAnun463xxhAEn83N-q3w0EMu8XAQ_vxzu1Qt8PQ_ATy329Oa1q0w-TlS4fSJslKQ-lqSk92pbqpuEI0LUY8LQVQX8bioHLP4v16TfJAevhRM/s1600-h/crooked_old_man.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5252038055944487490" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhH8GkzFgcGP5zvNHbb1zyVw9h0b04KiInAnun463xxhAEn83N-q3w0EMu8XAQ_vxzu1Qt8PQ_ATy329Oa1q0w-TlS4fSJslKQ-lqSk92pbqpuEI0LUY8LQVQX8bioHLP4v16TfJAevhRM/s400/crooked_old_man.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div align="center">On Lube, they told their god they didn’t need him.<br />They said he was passé and obsolete.<br />There wasn’t anybody to succeed him<br />But Lubans had been disinclined to heed him<br />Since the failure of the last three crops of wheat.<br /><br />They locked the doors of all the planet’s churches<br />And sent him on his way in pouring rain,<br />And, as he passed the row of golden birches,<br />They cried out from their lofty tree top perches,<br />“Get thee hence and don’t come back again.”<br /><br />It’s hard to be a god without a people,<br />Cast out when praise is shouted down by bile.<br />Oh, do not think that folk, like faithful sheep,’ll<br />Keep singing adorations ‘neath the steeple<br />If they do not think the contract is worthwhile.</div>Peter Gouldinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13292063172122249202noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5493746624775093882.post-65814199456055054312008-09-30T21:10:00.001-07:002008-09-30T21:11:24.401-07:00Planet Kopicka<div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidCvaahtlK6aOdWXq6f9jQKNIFt7jpmee2LpjifURm56WwXLCyYOHI0f_kREFtZbHcpw0XaVFlCG04ULetoJ7ddGQ8dPLxeICM67uHsSfIFA-qlTnHJRUciFpJCJYez_VhVBPw17qXHMg/s1600-h/robot_fish.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5252033171023270050" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidCvaahtlK6aOdWXq6f9jQKNIFt7jpmee2LpjifURm56WwXLCyYOHI0f_kREFtZbHcpw0XaVFlCG04ULetoJ7ddGQ8dPLxeICM67uHsSfIFA-qlTnHJRUciFpJCJYez_VhVBPw17qXHMg/s400/robot_fish.jpg" border="0" /></a> Millions of years evolved.<br />The future lay unresolved.<br />Some fishes neared the shore,<br />Poked out their snouts and saw<br />White beaches, verdant trees.<br />They felt the balmy breeze,<br />They felt the two suns’ heat,<br />The perfumed air so sweet.<br />They nodded knowingly<br />And swam back out to sea.<br /><br /></div>Peter Gouldinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13292063172122249202noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5493746624775093882.post-36876732916317969462008-09-30T19:51:00.001-07:002008-09-30T19:52:15.658-07:00Conscientious<div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkaV5JSuqEpSL5oie2q57pxHTKh0EFnnwPx01VqbcMBec9Y3n0GzuC7pCL02poJcepKJQndJxhWpXRsN-GXQPb9HetjKTMxRcFbnmQ2o2hoHWgBl64CVR85Uko0lCUGMs8UO2UKQxATCo/s1600-h/earth.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5252012787551117282" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkaV5JSuqEpSL5oie2q57pxHTKh0EFnnwPx01VqbcMBec9Y3n0GzuC7pCL02poJcepKJQndJxhWpXRsN-GXQPb9HetjKTMxRcFbnmQ2o2hoHWgBl64CVR85Uko0lCUGMs8UO2UKQxATCo/s400/earth.jpg" border="0" /></a> “Shall I bother?” thought Zakowski. “It’s a long, long way to go<br />And germination prob’ly won’t take place.<br />If I just go on back home, chances are they’ll never know –<br />It’s only fifteen parsecs back to base.<br /><br />“If just one in a thousand will accept the DNA,<br />The odds are quite against this trip’s success.<br />I must have done ten thousand since the scheme got underway,<br />And only five have taken, maybe less.<br /><br />“My wife is waiting for me, now the mission’s near its end.<br />I’ve missed her in the months we’ve been apart.<br />Her hologram’s quite faded and, besides, it doesn’t lend<br />Itself to any matters of the heart.”<br /><br />But Zakowski was an honest man who worked hard for his pay<br />And he fully understood the mission’s worth.<br />So, with crate-loads of amoeba piled up in the holding bay,<br />He turned the spaceship round to planet Earth.<br /><br /></div>Peter Gouldinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13292063172122249202noreply@blogger.com0