THE METEORITE PILOT

The meteorite pilot
Guides his chunk of rock
Through the night sky.

Once long ago
In a desperate war on earth
They were used as suicide meteorites
Crashing into cities
Leaving giant craters
Where people once were.

The meteorite pilot
Cruises the canals of the solar system
Towing showers of iron and gold
Towing showers of diamonds and sapphires
Towing showers of radioactive mineral
Guiding the meteorite
Around the heavenly bodies.

The meteorite pilot
Like a cavalry officer
He will charge against whole populations
He will make the earth rock
To leave behind a cleansed land
For the ruling class.

The meteorite pilot
Cruises outer space
The leader of rocks
That go where he leads them.
It’s no easy life,
Meteorites are like wild horses
Galloping through the darkness.
To harness them
Is a fight to the death.

The meteorite pilot
Has other work,
While doing the rounds
He observes the frontier,
He picks up strays,
He destroys rogues,
Turns them into fuel,
He keeps the heavens safe
For those who can afford them.

21 Oct

I LIVE IN A METEORITE CRATER

I live
in a cold
meteorite crater,
with the meteorites of the moon.
The cold meteorites
love their moon crater.
but to me,
it’s all doom and gloom.

They leased it
on the moon market,
and grew marigolds in the murk.
The hired man
from the cleaning club
dusts it once a month
for part-time work.

I live in a cold
meteorite crater
where the man in the moon
asks for rent.
Where the meteorites
skulk about
with faces
like a collapsed moon tent.

But elsewhere
on the moon
they live
happily as can be,
eating roast beef for dinner
and drinking tea for tea.

METEORITE MAID

Meteorite maid
Sitting astride your stallion
Galloping through space
In the big space race.

Make your bets
10 to 1
The meteorite maid
Will finish in the sun.

She will be photographed by the Sun
She will do an orbit of honour
Riding her meteorite
Her precious space rock

A meteorite rock
A black beauty
Galloping across the sky
With its meteorite maid

Dec 95

The boy struck by a meteorite

The boy struck by a meteorite was never the same, never the same
He came back down from the mountain in so much pain, so much pain.
His hair was redder than blood; his eyes were brighter than stars
Sometimes he flew; sometimes he crawled; sometimes got drunk in bars.

But he always loved you; he always loved you – Miss Meteorite.

2008

Bag Full of Rocks

My rocks are the memories from different adventures. I thought I would just leave this bag here.

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