Shooting the Moon
Monday, 29 November 2021 17:20

Shooting the Moon

Published in Poetry

Shooting the Moon

by David Erdos

So now they are shooting off into space, from Bezos
To Branson; Billionaires owning orbits costing 402 Million
By the min. All this as The Sex Pistols sue John and Lydon
Deems the Disney deal rotten, while Dolly Parton reposes
For Playboy at the age of 75. Mammon wins.

It would seem to be a spiralling world in which everything
Goes for a burton, while yesterday, Michael left us,
Translated to a far better place, news can bruise.
Bringing sky to the surface through skin, as the colour
Blues and then purples, the tone that Horovitz wore

As an emblem. We need such vibrancy back.
We're confused. And so, Supermarket stacks of pizza
Fall stale, as Priti monstrous Patel bribes all borders;
Keeping migrants away for more millions, while we,
The self and unemployed pray for grants, there to keep us

Afloat as seas of metaphor roar around us, and we cling onto
Due dates as wind and whim destroy driftwood with every
Changing tide's circumstance. All of the institutions feel
As blown as the daisy chains of my childhood; just as
A buttercup brimming over threatens to sink where sense hid,

Meanwhile the former Political Advisor thinks on, designing
His own domination, while CJ and BJ Macbluff and Lady Macbeth
In Knightsbridge. Or wherever they lurk, from Princess Margaret's
Mustique, to the murk that pig slurries: whatever, however,
It will be a bestial belch we're all hearing before true beauty

Returns to Carthage. Other palaces fall. While for some,
Gates stay polished. People joke about the next lockdown,
While others it seems set its date. The entire world's on a wall.
You can see it from space. Branson glimpsed it. Then, Bezos, too.
Jeff, keep going. May you forever become astral weight.

We'd get shot of the lot of you, chum, share things out,
Before starting on those aiming for us. The targets stay
Terrified, yet through trouble, and if you fuck us much more

We'll shoot straight.