Interstellar slavery: coming to a planet near you?

Plundering our planet, the parasitic capitalist
Class places itself above/apart from nature and
Humanity…And its corporate parrots repeat
Galaxy-colonizing crack pipe claptrap of
billionaire bosses regarding missions of phallic
boy toys sucked up from sweat beads of toilers…

I spoke with Sun Ra and Ra said: “If they arrive
Alive, Hannibal Lecter masks are waiting;
They’ll quarantine 30-40 yrs—social-distance
100 + miles until their blood-sucking virus—
Greed—recedes and their penchant for polluting,
Exploiting, trashing planets and peoples is heeled…”

I hipped Ra to visions of Earth’s richest man and
Ra busted a rib, doubled over laughing.
He chortled, “Backwards capitalism’s light years
Behind the beat—and interstellar slavery ain’t happenin’
out here. Why, we’d laugh y’all out the universe if Non-
Interference Inter-Planetary Solidarity wasn’t how we fly…”

He said word in the galaxy is that these space colonialist
cowboys are primitive, fecal-minded fools with embalmed
brains—Tax-avoiding terrestrial hustlers who’ve yet to
Evolve from trashing and treating Earth as if it were their
mine shaft, junkyard, yacht-jet storage space/interplanetary

Ra cried distilled tears over greedy red-orange flames grabbing
at the galaxy; thick black smoke quilts masking
Sun rays and smothering oxygen; a Texas-size plastic patch
covering an ocean’s eye; cardboard mattresses in tents popping
up like pastel mushrooms; mile-long food lines; And, of course, cops
and soldiers storming Capitalist Hill

He screamed, “Profiteers poisoning blue gold lending Earth life is
Lunacy! Out here Earth’s known as ‘the planet of smoking guns and
Mushroom clouds’ ringed by bases and police stations where crimson
rivers run; the planet where primitives brandish sticks with triggers
And massacre each other over rectangular rags; the planet that stinks
of crematoriums where Earthlings were barbecued; and human cargo-
laden ships sailed for centuries like clockwork over teary oceans…”

Ra whispered, “I hipped Saturn to Earth, minute I got home…
They said,’Multiple planets pulled our coats centuries ago. We’ve
been surveilling Earth for thousands of years. Intelligent life’s appalled
at capitalist ignorance/Earthlings’ suffering!’ Ra winked, “My dear
Brother, Mercury, Mars, Venus, Jupiter, Saturn don’t play that Plymouth
Rock shit. Tell those mutha-frackers: Come in peace… Or leave in…pieces…”

Former forklift driver/warehouse worker/janitor, Raymond Nat Turner is a NYC poet; BAR's Poet-in-Residence; and founder/co-leader of the jazz-poetry ensemble UpSurge!NYC. Read other articles by Raymond Nat, or visit Raymond Nat's website.