3 POEMS FROM THE ZETA ABYSS

3 POEMS  FROM  THE  ZETA  ABYSS

Scottish Andrew

 

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.

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.

 

 

 

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.

 

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