Mansion On The Moon
Mansion On The Moon poem stories
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nicholasleonard
nicholasleonard 20 year old poet/novelist
Autoplay OFF   •   a month ago
A narrative poem about a lonely astronaut dwelling through his sorrows in the gloomy, steel, coffin interior of a mansion on a moon.

Mansion On The Moon

Deep inside my mansion on the moon, my wristband watch’s pendulum ticks not pon the cuffs of my bulky space suit as all things exist in dimming, red, dark, where crimson lights spring where consoles snooze all inside my mansion on the moon.

I float through my mansion on the moon. I wander downwards corridors of steel, drifting through abandoned control rooms to ponder why my company dwindled to nothing but myself and my gloom, deep inside my mansion on the moon.

As outside there’s endless bleak, grey, dunes, reflecting ‘gainst helmet of mine and glass, there resides the image of a fool. I witness him want to be helmetless. Oxygen’s scarce, alas it still stews ... for me… in my mansion on the moon.

And, above me, the space station looms, trafficking with nothing inside its bones; steel, bloodless, bones of vast solitude. Abandoned space stations, abandoned homes- all remain more lovely than the tomb … for me… in my mansion on the moon.

Here, alone, I eat the coldest of soups beside thrones and chairs that remain vacant, ‘mongst beeps of control panels gone confused. Pristine; bodes no dust upon this planet. Empty, dustless, I’m sick of clean fumes all inside my mansion on the moon.

What hands me covenants of untruths? A bang leads dampening footsteps to I, but when it approaches, it concludes. Though it finishes, it nears every night. But who could creep and crawl to my room? I’m ‘lone in my mansion on the moon.

Lonely-me sleeps in a spacious room of a sorry-abandoned dozen cots. Alone? Someone was there last night too. Lowly, they wheezed astronaut-I’s name soft. How come someone wheezed my name? But who? No one’s in my mansion on the moon.

Lonely-me follows shadows which croon upon corridor floors and hallway walls. Slowly, the shadow escapes from view, and the chase ends with nothing at all. Still, audible strangeness stays abloom deep inside my mansion on the moon.

Cold ambience has nothing to prove from astronaut graveyards to manless seats. Alien silence, return, be mute. Why does ambience call the name of me? Alien wonder harrows all rooms as cries dwell my mansion on the moon.

Everything’s blue. Blue. Indigo blue. And even as these crimson lights still blink, the bluest darkness follows and brews, stirring my noggin’s cauldron of ill-thinks of the jaws that mention my name’s tune … lost names… in my mansion on the moon.

Restless night before this glacial noon, breathless a whisper spoke my name again. But flesh remains beneath my space suit as breaths foretell my future’s skeleton. Tomorrow’s Man will discover who but me... in my mansion on the moon.

Tomorrow’s Man comes if rockets flute, if borrowed flames come into atmosphere to save me, so I will be rescued. But, sorrow, groans still nag me everywhere. They hallow my name in horror’s fuel, whispered in my mansion on the moon.

Tomorrow’s Man will never come through. I’m a lone astronaut here, but I’m not. Tomorrow the shrill whispers will boom when shadows flaunt about more as I’m stalked. Like calf to slaughter, I’m slaughtered soon? No death in my mansion on the moon.

This horror spins in constant resume. The whispers hissen as crimsons redder as someone sings my name in greed’s tune. As never naming unseen predators, Tomorrow-Me… I’ll never be you. I’m trapped in my mansion on the moon.

The emptiness here screams, squawks and croons as envious their calling grows louder. And their endless caterwauls protrude from eeriness that belongs in nightmares. Ever alone, forever marooned, fettered in my mansion on the moon.

The end. Ignore the next bunch of pages. I'm new to this site

steel, bloodless, bones of vast solitude.

Abandoned space stations, abandoned homes-

all remain more lovely than the tomb

... for me... in my mansion on the moon.

Here, alone, I eat the coldest of soups

beside thrones and chairs that remain vacant,

'mongst beeps of control panels gone confused.

Pristine; bodes no dust upon this planet.

Empty, dustless, I'm sick of clean fumes

all inside my mansion on the moon.

What hands me covenants of untruths?

A bang leads dampening footsteps to I,

but when it approaches, it concludes.

Though it finishes, it nears every night.

and the chase ends with nothing at all.

Still, audible strangeness stays abloom

deep inside my mansion on the moon.

Cold ambience has nothing to prove

from astronaut graveyards to manless seats.

Alien silence, return, be mute.

Why does ambience call the name of me?

Alien wonder harrows all rooms

as cries dwell my mansion on the moon.

Everything's blue. Blue. Indigo blue.

And even as these crimson lights still blink,

the bluest darkness follows and brews,

stirring my noggin's cauldron of ill-thinks

of the jaws that mention my name's tune

... lost names... in my mansion on the moon.

Restless night before this glacial noon,

breathless a whisper spoke my name again.

But flesh remains beneath my space suit

as breaths foretell my future's skeleton.

Tomorrow's Man will discover who

but me... in my mansion on the moon.

Tomorrow's Man comes if rockets flute,

if borrowed flames come into atmosphere

to save me, so I will be rescued.

But, sorrow, groans still nag me everywhere.

They hallow my name in horror's fuel,

whispered in my mansion on the moon.

Tomorrow's Man will never come through.

I'm a lone astronaut here, but I'm not.

Tomorrow the shrill whispers will boom

when shadows flaunt about more as I'm stalked.

Like calf to slaughter, I'm slaughtered soon?

No death in my mansion on the moon.

This horror spins in constant resume.

The whispers hissen as crimsons redder

as someone sings my name in greed's tune.

As never naming unseen predators,

Tomorrow-Me... I'll never be you.

I'm trapped in my mansion on the moon.

The emptiness here screams, squawks and croons

as envious their calling grows louder.

And their endless caterwauls protrude

from eeriness that belongs in nightmares.

Ever alone, forever marooned,

fettered in my mansion on the moon.

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