Panic At The Planetarium

Mrs. Flibberty, why do we have to go to the planetarium, the VERY cold and grungy planetarium in the middle of this horrible winter night?” Anya Capella whined as we trudged through the hallways of the Adven Presidential Planetarium.

Mrs. Flibberty smiled at us from the front of the line, “oh Anya, there is so much we stand to learn from a planetarium, much less a presidential planetarium.” Then she winked knowingly at Anya “Besides, you especially need it for extra credits to boost that C into the B grade if you ARE interested in moving on to the 10^th grade.”

“Yes Mrs. Flibberty.” Anya replied grudgingly, before grumbling under her breath about how she was quitting astronomy first chance she got. Anya’s partner, Gabrielle Jonas, the smart alec/ know-it-all of our class, leaned in and whispered into Anya’s ear, yet in a manner so loud I’m sure Trevor Quincy all the way at the front heard her, “I could tutor you, you know? Seeing as you are not that, ah…... brain worthy. After all, I did get A’s in all my mid-terms.” She gloated.

Without looking back, I could imagine the tremendously fake smile plastered on Anya’s face as she repelled Gabrielle’s offer. “Oh! I really would love that…Gabby, but I unfortunately wouldn’t want you to waste your time on a not so brain worthy entity as I am.” Anya apologized sarcastically.

I think Gabby was about to answer when the line stopped and I realized we had entered what looked like a huge courtyard, yet indoors. There, in the middle, was a gigantic model of our solar system. “Now class, I would like for you all to look closely and admire why our planetarium, the Adven Presidential Planetarium is the best in the entire country.” Mrs. Flibberty trilled and flicked her fingers.

As she did that, the lights went off and the planets began to glow and rotate ever so slowly around the shimmering, golden sun. A chorus of ‘ooh’s’ and ‘aah’s’ filled the courtyard, camera’s flashing even though there was a “NO FLASH PHOTOGRAPHY” sign standing in nearly every corner.

Just as Mrs. Flibberty started talking about rotation of the Earth, all the lights came on and suddenly went off. In the pitch darkness, I heard scuffling and a scream, and then the lights came on.

Sitting on the planet Jupiter with her legs hanging over the sides was a sobbing Gabby Jonas, and standing behind her was Liam Yodei; the gun in his hand pressed against her head. He smiled lazily, “Every. Body. Freeze.”

Let My People Go

Bombs rain down from up ahead,

Over 14 million dead.

Children weep and parents cry,

How many more they know shall die.

The boats, they say, shall save our lives,

Are doomed by many, to sink or capsize.

“This situation gets worse each day,

Lord send our savior,” my people pray.

Haven’t my people suffered enough?

Have you not seen them in blood and sweat?

Has not their suffering opened up your eyes?

Have you not witnessed their untimely demise?

Down under, beneath the ground,

No one dares to make a sound.

Orphans lie with no tears in their eyes,

For atrophied their eyes are; no tears to cry.

There is a woman, pawing through the rubble,

Calling a name, quiet and subtle.

Hers is a story many have told,

Of family members, whose death we can’t hold.

Haven’t my people suffered enough?

Have you not seen their sorrow, and death?

Has not their torture made you to see?

Have you not listened to all of their pleas?

Pity my people the orphans the poor.

Pity my people for they are no more.

Theirs is a story that must have an end;

For if it begins, a close must descend.

Do not let my people die with no hope.

Do not let my people live with no home.

Do not let my people pray with no peace.

Do not let my people fear for their ease.

Haven’t my people suffered enough?

Is it not time to let them go?

Is it not time to let them know?

Let them know, the time, has come to go home?

Moving

Let’s take a step, let’s dance a beat.

Let’s move our bodies, mostly our feet.

Let’s see the people, and each one greet.

Let’s be together, were the waters meet.

I’ll walk alone, if it’s alright.

I’ll walk alone without a fright.

I’ll walk through day and all through night.

I’ll walk alone, you’ll be my light.

Waiting

Don’t be long, don’t be late.

Standing here, I still do wait.

 

Young with age, old with mind.

Peace of mind I seek to find.

 

Some call it a gift, say it’s free.

Some call it a burden, kept from thee.

 

I do know not, what it may be.

But all I know is the want of me.

 

Don’t be long, don’t be late.

Standing here, I still do wait.

 

People believe to give it some time.

It comes and it goes, being sublime.

 

People believe, it won’t help no-one.

Mean as a devil, burns like the sun.

 

And some say you must give it a chase.

And it will soon come around to your place.

 

Don’t be long, don’t be late.

Standing here, I still do wait.

 

And now I hear a different tune.

Bright as the stars, soft as the lune.

 

 

 

“Do not wait for anyone else.

You’ll find it only within yourself.”

 

And this I guess is the best advice.

It is mostly likely an advice so nice.

 

So, do be long, do be late.

Gone I am, no longer I wait.