PILGRIM SONG(S)

(1) 

the brand new world,

above heaven but so close to hell,

lays ahead, in the future,

for this are uncharted territories

the Mayflower is no more

but powerful rockets and, still,

fragile spaceships compete for

the pole-position and for domination;

history repeats itself, I wonder

there will be not wig-wams,

and I doubt any Covenant,

but hard-core possession

in between tit-for-tat threats;

the usual singalong choir,

mostly out of any melodic tune

(thou shall not quarrel, anymore/again)

 

(2)

the traffic of space rockets

overwhelms the FM waves of my old radio

and I can’t listen to music anymore;

they promised me, as soon as possible,

there will be traffic lights to regulate

the current mayhem;

not to obfuscate it

 

(3)

a humongous space-jam brought

to an halt

 all of the joyride in the inter-planetary 

itinerary

 

(4)

contradicting all the good sense,

the colonies of the far-space are engaged in dialogues,

though analog, 

on the brinkmanship of theirs (pursuit of) infinity

 

(5)

an unexpected visitor, 

a very rich one, 

collapsed, shortly, 

after a take-over; 

he took over

 

(6)

the space-ambulance service, 

unfortunately,

does not exist, 

yet

 

(7)

and the space-hospitals are,

for a lack of (a) better wording,

experiencing a lack of gravity