NO AIR APPARENT

Gasping for a lung full
in seemingly stagnant skies.
No matter how one tries
it becomes a chore.
And the more you work
the more you’re sore.
You’d pass it along,
but it is all wrong.
And no one is left to inherit
when there’s no air apparent!

© Walter J. Wojtanik – 2012

IN SPACE NO ONE CAN HEAR YOU DREAM

The void is deep and expansive,
and I sit in a pensive mood.
No good can come out of
wild fantasy and schisms,
mystic midnight visions
that play with my psyche.
It might be that when I drift,
floating by my tin can, I am
Major Tom. Slightly clueless:
a mess with little control
of my faculties, or my course.
I cry out, but no one hears,
and my fears of irrelevance
though unfounded, are drowned out
by the silence of the heavens;
a cosmos that deafens.

Written to fit the POETIC ASIDES “vacuum” prompt and WE WRITE POEMS #104 – “Loneliness” prompt!

IT SUCKS

In the void of existence,
life drifts aimlessly,
drawing every last breath
from a chestful of dreams.
It leaves one seemingly
weightless and restless.
And the guess is that
each of us has it in us
to rescusitate ourselves.
But we are against the clock
and it isn’t a shock that
life ends before we really
begin to live. It’s a given,
and it sucks.