it's elon musk
his stiff, frozen corpse hurtling toward the earth
looks like space flight wasn't as grand as an idea as previously thought

the virgins have gone galactic
branson's body as cold as his icy heart
and eyes to match his lifelessness

the bald headed freak's gone bug-eyed!
clearly unprepared for the speed his amazon basic space shuttle hurtles at
as shoddily made as the rest of their ****, the cabinet begins decompressing

why go to the stars
what do you think it is you'll find up there
peace or contentment
are you trying to prove something

you'd think if you'd really want to help humanity you might start on this rock before trying to jump to the next

oh you'll succeed
while the planet you so desperately sought to escape is in the throws of death's spiral
i'm sure it stings your pride to know you'll die before that though

let’s blur truth behind
our forest of strings
teased by blocks, and below
they dance these real boy nows
                                                                                                              clap
                                                for the show
say
                                                 your lines
                                                                                                              sing
                                                   like me
I’m
                                                your queen
baubles like pebbles
shine my fingers please
watch the firewood gambol
**** the harvest, so languid
                                                                                                           shape
                                                   your hips
just
                                                    like me
                                                                                                                 oh
                                                 they'll swoon
just
                                                      for you
please dance for the show
marionette toy!
oh sing these strings up high
what ballet they pull
                                                                                                              take
                                                         a try
no
                                                     my turn now
                                                                                                               pull
                                                   the garrotes
you're kindling
                                                         to us

For a summer resort as a teen
I had the job of cleaning latrines,
three months at minimum wage.
Nobody said, “Good job, well done.”
But it was.

I’ve repaired septic tanks from within.
Mucked in mud laying pipe.
Scraped asbestos. Hot-mopped a roof.
Shoveled bat guano.
Nobody gave me a medal.
Just cash.

Be humble. Do your share.
Society will be better. Civilization more civil,
you a stronger you, it’s really true,
more worthy than those fat cats in their mansions
who I dare not name or
they’d send legal thugs to bury me
in lawyer manure.

Forget latrines. Think billionaires.
They bought the news. Congress. Supreme Court.
Learn about salvage, about repair.
Learn to fix rot at the foundation and work toward the top.
Zoning board. Town council. State assembly. Governor.
Step by step go higher.
Then ask what shitwork is.
And let’s get busy.