Beat Poems, by Olan L. Smith

Doubloons on the Moon

Doubloons on the Moon

©12-02-2019, Olan L. Smith

Hey man, it's gonna go down, it's all the same.

Tranquility Base, here, so calm in the palm,

We're going back to the moon! Throw those

Golden doubloons up in the sky, coat the crafts

In that shiny stuff. It's no bluff, unless the next

Congress cuts off their balls and teats. Then

They'll sink in the sands of times, as we watch

The rest of the world plant their one small step

In the Lunar dust of the stars. Wacky doodles,

These congresses on the run, chasing dildos

In their sleep, while whacking off in the

Closets of time. Wacky-doddle-delight,

We want to make the Flight to Mars!! I say, it's

Micro gravity in the head, explains it all.

No coming back if you stay too long. Jelly legs

And no blood to the brain, long space journeys

Make human blob-kabobs more meat

On the spits. Spend-to-spin them round-and-round

Give them centrifugal force, of course they'll lean

To one side...walk straight young man from space.