EXOPOETRY

A COLLECTION OF SHORT EXOPOLITICAL POEMS

By Andrew Hennessey

THE GHOST OF ROBERT BURNS

Scottish Exopolitical Protest. 14/02/08

A concrete jungle paves Ayrshire fields

And Scottish manhood dreams of space

Or Buckfast wine in his disgrace

No excise [tax] on this jobless place

No corn riggs or fresh breeze on the face,

But there instead a joyless type of farming

bought and sold for genetic gold

The price of getting into space

An end to the humanity of race

For in the dark under alien gaze

An alien harvest in the toon [town]

And on the tarmac you see him pace

The Ghost of Robert Burns.

Our Parcel of Rogues

In kilt and brogues [shoes]

Address the haggis and toast the lassies

Their dignities an a’ that

Dead sciences an a’ that

Mars and Europa an a’ that

And the dark side of the moon.

And man to man the world o’er

would be brothers in a fruitless dust

And surely as the world turns

As surely as the ships

With accusations on his lips

The Ghost of Robert Burns.

What proud usurpers shall bear degree

And be Laird [Lord] abune [above] the honest man.

Who shall lift the name of Burns and make of it a joke

Who shall use the life of Burns to ease the tyrants yoke ..

‘Grant me indulgent Heaven, that I may live to see

the miscreants feel the pain they give,

Deal Freedoms sacred treasures free as air,

Till slave and Despot be but things that were ..’

Till the rights of man shall be upheld

That billions under threat of end

Shall we with Angelic host defend

As even now the tide it turns

And in that throng, it wont be long,

At the dawning of the day, we see,

The Ghost of Robert Burns.

3 POEMS FROM THE ZETA ABYSS

1. RITA THE BETA ZETA

Rita the Beta Zeta

Is somewhere out on the streetsa

You might meeta

And buy her

A coffee

A rare treata

Because Rita

Never seems to

Get the day off.

Rita the Beta Zeta

Never gets away

She wants a car

A two seata

For a boyfriend to meeta

To meet mr right

In an endlessly grey world

And share a pizza

The world of zeeta

Is a boring old place

Bosses with two left feeta

And cold hearted

Boring old clones.

The world of zeeta

Is a self defeata

For Rita

Who needs a new treata

Not recycled as a cheetah

For being much too clever.

Rita needs a holiday

Verdant pastures new

Where the sky is blue

Not grey

And homogeneity

Rita the Beta Zeta

Is out on those grey cold streetsa

But one day

In answer to her prayers

And one of those Holy Featesa

She gets a ticket out.

2. GENERAL ZUG

General Zug from Science corps

Is forming an alliance

With the usual defiance

embracing opulience

And cutting all his ties

With Zeta High Command

It’s not hard to understand

Nothing goes as planned

They said it was some Beta

That caused his last defeata

It lost his request on the streetsa

Of the IT Superway

What more could they say –

You just can’t get the staff.

General Zug though

Knows for sure

That the High Command of Zeta

Are spaced out bathing in the meata

They harvest from the Cheetah farms

In which they put their Beta.

They have to be on Crack.

He now can understand

The meaning of High Command.

The happy ship of Zeta

Hasn’t enough Cheetah

To hold all the Beta that know

What he knows.

Many have spilled the Beanz under his

Interrogations.

General Zug lost that battle

Because of the moronic prattle

In Zeta High Command.

General Zug has friends

And he wants to make amends

And going with the trends

Its that time to abandon ship.

3. Scientist Zee4U

Scientist Zee4U the logic locomotive

Has sensed a contradiction

And reduction ad absurd

Whilst feeding on galactic turd

The detrius of soul birth

And cataclysmic war.

By purity of reason

This recognition is Imperial Treason

To his all-consuming terror

There is No error in his calculations.

The Imperium is illogical

Its strategy is flawed

The logistics periodical

Objective reality, is outlawed.

Zee4U is logic

His reason beyond reproach

But if he sends in his report

He will never again stridulate

With the ancestral cockroach.

Alpha caste is stripping

Feeding by the ton

But they never do it right

And they talk of having fun.

This isn’t very logical.

For Zeta

There seems to be a lack,

But rumour has it

That High Command

Is well spaced out on Crack.

COMMANDER ZOOL

(from the non-planet Hlcyon)

Exopolitical comment on some Channelling.

Commander Zool is made to rule

Like a file in a network folder

A being of light and love

To end the fight in heaven above

For weary heads a shoulder

Commander Zool is energy

Just like you and me, he says,

But harvest beckons and it reckons

Our energy is free

As God intends

To supply his hungry overspends

Commander Zool is no fool

A good semantic DJ he

feels the euphoria

In the wisdom of our ages

The mindset of release

Scanning many readers of many sages

he will chef

A sublime web of many pages

To stockpen all its herd

Commander Zool has a school of nothing

To end his war on hunger

To fish the stardust, drifting shoals

of disconnected minds

To Trap them in his semantic maze

Doing what he wills with all his skills

Against all the prey he finds

Commander Zool the channel

A tunnel full of hope

Of joy and bliss and foodstuffs

Spiced with semantic dope

Commander Zool is alien

And will allay your fears

But like any primary predator

It acknowledges no peers.

Commander Zool is wise and pure

With a network of a million

Though none can sketch a cancer cure

To ease the lives of billions

Commander Zool is fluent

In a thousand languages

Rich outpourings of his prey

But its not the software

It’s the chip, it’s the CPU, the soul

The ecology of a basic need to eat

His busy hardware whole.