Some Days.

Below is a dumb poem I wrote the other day in about five minutes. It is about cosmonauts because cosmonauts kept coming up the other day. That’s how my life is some days.

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Space Travel!

Space Travel!
by james bezerra

MISSION CONTROL:
Oh no!
Your spacecraft’s telemetry
is wobbling dangerously!
Fire your retrorockets quickly
if you want to stabilize your reentry,
otherwise we might have a tragedy!

SPACECRAFT:
Hey Mission Control
We’re gonna have to go
to manual control
because our spacecraft has gone into a roll.

MISSION CONTROL:
Oh No!
You’ve gone into a roll?
Did you experience a failure
of your gyroscopic computer?

SPACECRAFT:
That’s affirmative.
So tell your engineers
that if we live
I’m going to kick their rears.

MISSION CONTROL:
Oh they have ears
and they can hear.
That’s a punishment they’ll surely fear.

THE ENGINEERS:
You know, it’s more likely
that the problem is user error
than a catastrophic computer failure.

SPACECRAFT:
You know, I don’t wanta hear it.
I’m busy trying to avoid a giant comet.

MISSION CONTROL:
A giant comet?!
Our recent scan
showed no comet in your flight plan.

SPACECRAFT:
We had to go to Plan B.
So after this comet is averted
we will have to ditch in the sea.

MISSION CONTROL:
Rescue teams have been alerted,
however we still fear
you’ll burn up in the atmosphere.

SPACECRAFT:
That’s a negative.
We will totally live
because the atmosphere
is quite thin here.

THE ENGINEERS:
Um ... yeah, it’s probably likely
you made a wrong turn at that last galaxy
and you’re about to land on the wrong planet.

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