Populicide

I fancy a furrow
From the treads of cosmic insects:
Eight-armed and arbitrary
With ambulant egg-sacks on their underbellies
As they leer with angular eyes over Neptune-
Exoskeletons gleaming in the reflected light
Of Jupiter's 63 moons.

I wish for a wasteland, but where do I stand?
The furrow is much too deep for breath
As marsh-clouds inhale magma vapor 
From the malignant worm holes 
Of this shadow-cast city.

And where are you?
I'm picking water lilies from the ether
Like gaseous fireflies. 
My blistering toes knock the yellow brick roads from
A sky scraper's edge to topple down on roach-run boulevards--
My fingers graze the atmosphere
And the dimensions of oblivion ripple
Like the scar tissue of heaven. 

I fancy a furrow
Plowed deep for all to plummet.

Reviews

[Alskar]

Hm, a planet run by insects. At least, that's what I got from it. Perhaps the insects are even like stars, in vast quantity and plotted all over the universe, judging by the lines with Neptune and Jupiter. Maybe they are stars, and the insect motif is merely a description of them. Or, perhaps I'm thinking too literally xD Cosmic insects are obviously a strange topic for a poem, but I like this. In just a few stanzas you manage to open the reader to an ethereal world where such creatures exist, and include their ideals and feelings to an extent. Perhaps the planet that the speaker insect is on is a post-apocalyptic earth, due the the sky-scraper falling. Again, this may be too literal on my part. This is possibly even an idea for a story.

[NoneOfYourBusiness akaK..]

cosmic language opened on the side of perceptions through the quagmire of ambling through the void everydays~ stunning descriptives and your imagery in strobes is brilliant~