Send the rich to space.
It’s their kind of place.
No vile madding crowd.
No critics allowed.
Billionaires in flight,
passing in the night.
Screw the earth and taxes.
They’re the new cash axis.
Those who have the deepest pockets
can return to upgrade rockets.
Grab some friends to flush out crew.
Crazy what the moneyed do.
See that light up by the dipper?
That’s Jeff Bezos, feeling chipper.
And the one that’s going slower?
Richard Branson, flying lower.
Elon Musk in Tesla X
says he’ll soon achieve apex.
Bill Gates better get one made,
or he’ll miss the space parade.
Walton family’s time draws near:
Walmart in the stratosphere.
Princes, dukes and shahs will fly
in the fast lanes of their sky.
Rumors have the monarchy
transported to Mars to see
if it would be too much hassle
to erect a big red castle.
Eventually, there’ll come the mob.
Collection is their proven job.
Protection from space disaster.
Payback by godfather’s blaster.
We, the meek, watch all unfold
from our gravity foothold,
working, always, for spare change,
watching, shocked, life rearrange.
Climate and war have no place
for elites in outer space.
And for those who have the bling:
colonies on Saturn’s ring.
Astronauts with silver spoons
buying up some bargain moons.
Those stranded on this big rock
wait now for an aftershock.
