Space God Satellite

Decades draw lines on us,
rusty faces remain though names are gone,
stone poetry points the way to the clouds,
steepled now in sentient silence.

Revolting vaults for young and aged fools,
form our government, parliament pleasures itself,
while far away baked children smile death smiles,
and mourning mothers are seared from life.

Television fashions the rational face of death,
round the earth roam the liars from high above,
beaming down fake signals of meaning,
teeming with images and communication addicts.

New moonlight pools at his satiated feet,
this needy priest and nightly news compete,
to continue the traded wonder at mans pride,
the foolish relish the table of NASA plans,

deadpan dead nervous the astronaut,
thoughts amid dreams of falling forever,
never waking or landing splattered,
or parachuted tombed in fears.

Teary places shooting stars and galleries,
glower down frontal lobes lorded in daytime
that go offline in nightly networks,
actions are consequenced too soon,
never planned by Space or God or Satellite.


[c] N.C.Fortune October 2010