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Tony Tweedy Jul 2020
So long ago was the wonder turned to real by the Eagle flying by.
A child in awe I watched that miracle outside of Earth's blue sky.

In grainy black and white the world united in an up turned gaze.
To dream a unified dream for all, in those long ago heroic days.

A dream for all of mankind and your words they called it so.
Joint in belief of great achievement of how far our species could go.

You carried the heroes of a decade that paved a road up to that day.
You caught the minds of others and set new heroes on their way.

There was Mike and Buzz and you and yet others there would be.
Who would follow that first footstep that you left upon the sea.
For all the things I have seen in my life never have I felt the world united and as inspired as it was on that day of July 1969.
We took a wrong step somewhere but it wasn't that day in the Sea of Tranquillity.
Carlo C Gomez Jul 2020
Cloud 9
Force ten
Apollo 11

I'm high in the sky
Driven like the wind
But walking on the moon
July 21, 1969
Forgot to post this a week ago.
Taylor St Onge Oct 2015
Somewhere on the moon last night, Neil Armstrong came back to life and was standing in the middle of the Sea of Tranquility in complete darkness.  His frail, decaying hands that were no doubt filled with formaldehyde, held a rather large and sure-to-be extremely heavy boombox that loomed up and over his head, blasting “Total Eclipse of the Heart” on repeat.  He said that it crossed his mind more than once to replace the six faded white American Flags with the stereo, but ultimately decided against it.


In mythology, bleeding is considered to be a feminine attribute:  
                                     “I bleed, therefore I am.” 
(But this is also the downfall of a version of feminism that is not intersecular.)  ((Your lunar cycle does not necessarily need to function in order to be considered a woman.))  (((I am not sure of which, if any, version of feminism Neil Armstrong subscribed to.)))

                                                ­              ­                            When a woman is bleeding, they say that she is at the height of her power; she is aligned with the tides and the cosmos.  She is celestial.  Blood is sacred,
eternal—the very essence of our beings—
                                                ­        ­      ­             but if the Blood Moon was
                                                ­                  really just the moon on her period,
what could she do last night she could do at no other point in her life?  
Where was her power?  She was isolated,
                                                                ­              forgotten by the sun,
                                           hidden away inside the umbra of the earth.  

(Which is the part where the masculine power of the sun rejected the most important feminine attribute of the moon.)


Michael Collins flew solo around the moon while Neil Armstrong and Buzz Aldrin played with dust and rocks.  For 48 minutes he was completely alone, radio silenced behind the shadow, and he thought about death and being the last man standing from Apollo 11.


Inside Neil Armstrong’s speakers, Bonnie Tyler was crooning that
                      “your love is like a shadow on me all of the time,”
and I have not yet decided if this is                      
                                                                ­       good      or      bad.  
Instead, I am wondering if Buzz Aldrin feels sore for
eternally being second best?  Or if he still thinks that the view from the
moon is still one of “magnificent desolation?”  And
does he feel this way about all three of his ex-wives?  
Do they know that the moon was his first love?


We name missions to the moon, to
Luna’s surface, to Diana’s territory, after a
Greek and Roman god of the sun, when
                                                            ­          wolves howl to the goddess
                                                         ­                              instead.
sometimes i try to be funny and yet serious idk
Words Echo Jan 2015
Your whispers in French
made me forget
I don't know how to dance.
And I wondered,
if he could smell your raspberry bubble bath skin
would Louis Armstrong sing just for you
like you sang just for me
in the corner where we built our blanket fort,
where the lamp on the floor
was the only light in the room
besides the one in your eyes
whenever I spun you around
And I just know
if I had a voice like his
we would still be dancing.

— The End —