Take sometime from the hustle and
bustle of traffic, pause, give your mouse a rest. Step out on the pavement and let me
entertain you.
SHUTTLE
TO MOTHER-SHIP
There’s a
hole in the sky
Letting death
rays in
The rain
comes down
And burns the
skin
Another
forest fall
Losing
oxygen, hard to breathe
And the fat
cat sits
In a tall
glass tower
Counting his
money
Hour after
hour
A black slick
on
The ocean
boils
Dumping
ground for human soils
Raped by
drift net, void of life
Another food
chain lost
Losing
sustenance, hard to feed
And the fat
cat sits
In a tall
glass tower
Counting his
money
Hour after
hour
Paranoia
spreads over the land
People see
others through eyes of fear
Minds
poisoned by chemicals
Science
baffled by new disease
Humanity
buckling at the knees
Trying to
breed through rubber sheathes
And the fat
cat sits
In a tall
glass tower
Counting his
money
Hour after
hour
The shuttle
flew low across the sky
“Shuttle
commander to mother-ship
Permission to
leave this dying planet
Not even
worth the time to burn it.
There only
appears to be
One lower
life form left at all
A fat cat
sits in a large glass bowl
With bulging
cheeks, and saucer eyes
Surrounded by
piles of useless paper
Hardly worth
turning to vapour.”
By Joy
Faulkner
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