Elon Musk: a poem

In the first of an irregular series about driven tech billionaires, celebrated business visionaries and impressive cage rattlers who are shaping our world, Clayton Foster finds a muse in Elon Musk, CEO of Tesla and SpaceX and chairman of Solar City. 

Elon Musk wants to send us all to Mars.

Elon Musk wants to break up reality.

Elon Musk wants our cars to tuck us in at night.

He’s quite a man, that Elon Musk, we all agree.

You landed a spaceship on a boat.

I’m told that that was quite a nifty feat.

Your Silicon bros fluffed their feathers over Twitter.

He’s quite a man, that Elon Musk, tweet tweet.

That’s a nice blazer that you’re wearing, emperor.

Many fabrics, stitched haphazardly.

You stutter when you speak but that’s okay.

Even Jesus mumbled occasionally.

I want you to be real, Elon.

We’re running out of time and you’re a clock.

We’re climbing the rope ladder to your poop deck.

You’re cooking something; I hope that it’s not crock.

Elon, I don’t want to go to Mars.

Elon, I quite like reality.

Elon, what’s with the fucking cars?

Do they travel interplanetarily?

Hush now Elon, you’ve had a busy day.

You’ve impressed us all, now you need to rest.

We wish that we could join you in your dreamy, dreamy land.

But this reality we’re stuck in, this reality we’re fucked in,

This world that needs our saving, this world that we are braving,

This reality right here is the best.

This post originally appeared on Medium
Want to write something about your favourite tech billionaire? Come at us. 

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