Tuesday, September 30, 2008


On Lube, they told their god they didn’t need him.
They said he was passé and obsolete.
There wasn’t anybody to succeed him
But Lubans had been disinclined to heed him
Since the failure of the last three crops of wheat.

They locked the doors of all the planet’s churches
And sent him on his way in pouring rain,
And, as he passed the row of golden birches,
They cried out from their lofty tree top perches,
“Get thee hence and don’t come back again.”

It’s hard to be a god without a people,
Cast out when praise is shouted down by bile.
Oh, do not think that folk, like faithful sheep,’ll
Keep singing adorations ‘neath the steeple
If they do not think the contract is worthwhile.

Planet Kopicka

Millions of years evolved.
The future lay unresolved.
Some fishes neared the shore,
Poked out their snouts and saw
White beaches, verdant trees.
They felt the balmy breeze,
They felt the two suns’ heat,
The perfumed air so sweet.
They nodded knowingly
And swam back out to sea.


“Shall I bother?” thought Zakowski. “It’s a long, long way to go
And germination prob’ly won’t take place.
If I just go on back home, chances are they’ll never know –
It’s only fifteen parsecs back to base.

“If just one in a thousand will accept the DNA,
The odds are quite against this trip’s success.
I must have done ten thousand since the scheme got underway,
And only five have taken, maybe less.

“My wife is waiting for me, now the mission’s near its end.
I’ve missed her in the months we’ve been apart.
Her hologram’s quite faded and, besides, it doesn’t lend
Itself to any matters of the heart.”

But Zakowski was an honest man who worked hard for his pay
And he fully understood the mission’s worth.
So, with crate-loads of amoeba piled up in the holding bay,
He turned the spaceship round to planet Earth.

A first for Dad

Oh Dad, you’ve gone down in the annals,
Though you’re somewhere out there in the void.
The police found a few of the panels
Of your ship on that small asteroid.

No, drinking and driving’s not clever,
Our family dare not show it’s face,
But you’re now down in hist’ry forever
As the first traffic victim in space.

Saturday, September 6, 2008


Akureyri was awoken
By the one word, harshly spoken.
“Malfunction!” the robotic voice repeated.
She jumped up on all four legs,
Like an Onkur smashing eggs,
Her glist’ning brain cell nearly overheated.

She hit the button without thinking,
Her great eyelid wildly blinking
And the siren echoed all throughout the station.
“Sector Five!” she called out tersely
As the red lights flashed perversely,
“An imminent escape of radiation!”

Through the door The Chief came tumbling,
Half awake and loudly grumbling,
“What’s the damage?” she demanded, stern and prickly.
“Robot cargo ship,” responded
Akureyri. “Sector One did
All the checks before it left,” she went on quickly.

“Hyperspace has been suspended,”
Said The Chief. “This can’t be mended.
There’s going to be a big explosion shortly.
That vesuvium consignment
Must have shifted its alignment.
Suddenly she looked quite old and portly.

There was nothing they could do
Except sit back and watch the view,
And presently the monitor flashed brightly.
“That’s a Magnitude Fifteen,”
Declared The Chief, her face quite green.
“Just like your brain?” quipped Akureyri lightly.

And they watched as that great ship
Dimmed to just a giant blip,
Continuing its journey through the sector.
“Better wait a week or two,”
Said The Chief, “and then will you
Arrange for a transporter to collect ‘er?”

On a planet with one moon,
In a desert, ‘pon a dune,
There sat a king, now many years anointed,
And he watched that flash of light
Burning brightly through the night,
And called out to his two fellow kings and pointed.