No gods No Spaceships
A musical reenactment of the Apollo moon landing
3 players~ Neil Armstrong Walter Cronkite, and Guest dressed in black with balaclava
Model spacecraft landing BEEPING
NA
Houston, tranquility base here, the Eagle has landed.
WC enters the television screen
Hello, I’m Walter Cronkite.
1969 was a million years ago viewed from the streets of class war, urban uprisings, student communes and rioting,
1969 is like a song that makes you so frightened and curious, that you lay awake at childhood nights, crying with a longing to be within its folds.
1969 is a great song for cities on fire and the ambush of patrol cars, of guerrilla war, of prison uprisings & revolutions !
1969 was the end of the world. It was Woodstock for white youth, samo ghetto for people of color, only this year, with armed insurrections. CoInTelPro and state violence..
1969 was the end of the world for the vietnamese people. With More than 1 million people dead fighting against US invasion and bombings in North Vietnam.
That is men, women and children.
Who weren’t able to watch the shitty blurred images of footsteps on the moon, because they were holding guns and shooting down our airplanes, soldiers, and collaborators.
1969 was carpet bombing and agent orange defoliated forests for the vietcong. To make the surface of indochina become the dead surface of earth’s moon, to match the burned out dead cities of Newark, Detroit, and Watts, bombed with poverty and racism. Still smoldering, still rebelling..
Footsteps tripping explosives.
Across history to distract us from the revolution, distract us from poverty
To distract us from nasa being run by actual Nazi war criminals.
This is NASA putting boots on to our ancestral wonder and awe. This cycling of birth, tide, and flow.
1969 was a piece of shit named Apollo.
Like a bullet to the face of history.
Takes off glasses and rubs face with a dopey smile, cry.
Holey cow, Men have landed on the moon
BEEP
BEEP
Neil Armstrong steps onto the moon, says his lines:
NA
One small step for BEEP
Sets up his little american flag, hammers it in with his gun.
WC
I didn’t hear what he said, Neil ??
NA cue music sings ! folk punk
Apollo spaceships are full of lies
Rioting cities left to cry
But it wont do any good to leave this Earth
When you get to this point there’s only death,
it’s best to let it burn
Got to the point where profits, aren’t enough
You eviction notice is fuckn rough
Stick you all in prisons
Sleep on sidewalks
With all the bums
We don’t care what happens to you
Fuck the moon
Blow up the sun
Class war against yourselves, I brought a gun !
It’s hard to believe you watch TV, democracies a joke
They’re hungry and broke
the young they eat our food,
Out of trash cans -you hippies are rude
No one ever said that it was easy to be free
Trying to live like we live. . . on fascist TV
We know our propaganda is strong
When the poor they sing along.
Apollo 11
Hip hip hurrah !
Distractions work
Your all slaves
In gilded cage . . .muffled rage.
Some Nazis built this ship for me
You can’t come in, this shit ain't free
You can keep the cats, we’ve got all cops
The earths used up- we’re burning crops
Governement practicing genocide,
Thank god white jesus is on our side.
Businessmen cutting all the trees
And it’s bound to doom all the bees,
The dumpster fire is all you guard
You can dig your own graves in the backyard
I heard that some Cosmonauts are going to attack
We know these, commie fucks
BUT SHUCKS
we got here first
Cause the moon is full tonight
We Planted our bloody flag to fight
There's the earth hanging in the sky
Its empty shell is left behind to die
Proof that the rich all had a good time
They made this mess, left for us,
Just like a morgue, we cry along
Sweeping the floors, starving the poor,
wiping their ass
kill the middle class
Outer space is claimed with star Spangled bullshit,
now cover your eyes
The stars are owned by corporations
We’re billionaires
the future belongs to our heirs
I’m neil Armstrong,
Stomping on the moon.
Fuck your dreams and magic, your poetry is lame
Now outer space is mine.
White men killed the stars, driving big cars
We own the world, your all wage slaves, drinking in bars
Go ahead and vote, you trash get gassed
This spacecraft is flying straight
up god’s ass.
Guest leaps out from behind a crater and STABS the back of Neil’s helmet which pours gallons of blood
Our guest Lights the US flag on fire and faces the rising Earth over moonscape !
Sings:
Guest
The earth’s a big blue marble
When we see it from out here
The sun and moon declare
Her beauty’s very rare.
Walk away and flash to burning bright moonlight ! End.
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