Poems from episode 167.5
by Greg Wah
White tail, frozen sky.
In the north new wisdom shines.
It slashes the dark.
by Natalie Bochenski
Twas off the planet Venus
In clouds they found phosphine, yes
A pungent gas with microbe mass
Is this a brand new genus?
by D’antagnan J J J J Beeston
The cradle of humanity, The children that we were.
We’d cast our vision upwards to the moon and its chauffeur.
The crescent of Selene across the firmament of black.
The silver rays that struck an Earth unquestionably flat.
We learned as metaphorically our night turned into day.
In every measurement we made the stars got far away.
The sun it was gargantuan, It’s surface filled with wrath.
A stellar observation made with boring stuff like math.
The thinkers needed proof and not just idle inspiration.
Our supposition must sustain robust examination.
We lined up all our lenses and we targeted our dish.
The thinkers told the artist pick a star on which to wish.
The universe a tapestry of pin pricks through the veil?
Or Helios and mighty steeds compelled with righteous flail.
We sent our robots skyward and they answer to our calls.
They told us what I always knew. That space, Greg Wah, is balls.