Music Upside down by Combstead
Space Dead.
©-2020-Matthew F. Blowers III

Somewhere far above us.
in the gaps between the stars
that we cherish in the wee hours
Lies a junkyard, free-floating
above our over inhabited planet,
whose occupants know little about
the expulsion of their own kind,
left virtually invisible above their atmosphere

Here in the grasping reach of the immense
gravity of this planet third from its
bright star, lie the remains of explorations gone bad.
Each continuously spinning in orbit,
in various stages of decomposition and decay.

Trapped in empty shells
of heat resistant metals,
radiating a glint of long-past glory,
at that time when they burst forth
between the clouds, touching
just the hem of God's domain.
But each were claimed beneath the
sweeping pull of fates wrath.

In the shadowed darkness of their holds,
lie effigies of sacrifice, iced by methane
and carbon dioxide
after they breathed their last
their last gasp......

Chimps whose jaws remain locked
in a perpetual scream of horror
they were smart enough to escape
the safety harnesses but not the tin
they were canned in and they are now
just bones that mark their final struggles.

Seven dogs in 7 capsules
sit frozen in rigor mortise
four limbs strapped tight
leashed to a frigid kennel
each perfectly preserved
And perhaps their howls
still echo confined within the
deepest corners of their airless coffins.

Man's best friends tricked to death
when they were launched to test
the waters of unknown,
long before men dared to brave space.

But sadder still in some other
time capsules, reclined in
frozen solid poses are
the C o s m o n a u t s.

Sent up by Mother Russia to find fame,
but some mere miscalculations
set them loose, into an endless
travelogue of death.

Like Post Modern Flying Dutchmen,
s a i l i n g o n forevermore,
their eyes wide open, staring at the stars.
It was here that their souls rocketed onward
to even higher realms and left the flesh shells
of their failure far behind.

Their remains hurl onward in orbits
with no trajectory in mind, until the Earth eventually reclaims its own,
cremating all of the remnants of that age.

Outcasts who were scrapbooked in space,
to bookmark the goals of earthbound dreamers,
each one a chapter of despair undocumented

Men who dared to breach the mystery,
but discovered that not all that goes up,
must come down.

And so in a sad parade of metal floats,
they serve as a reminder that immortality
can paint a cruel picture in the flesh
long after souls are set free.

Long Forgotten by the masses far below,
who know that space is dead
but do not know that there are
also dead in space as well.

Each condemned to circle the earth
for far too many years
in an airless hell
not of their own making

Stellar music, arrangement and composing
Vocals, melody line & lyrics by-
Matthew F. Blowers III-©-2020
“Enjoy The Ride!”