BEEEEEEP
*Emergency Broadcast*
Get off the mainland. Unidentified aircrafts have overtaken the island and are launching, what appears to be, green goo all over buildings, causing them to melt on contact. There are too many aircrafts to count. All boats have departed. Those of you left, hurry to the last departing boat. I repeat – get off the mainland.
*Broadcast Ends*
——————–
I wake up. I get ready to leave.
I slap on some causal clothes.
Dress shoes: I don’t need those.
I look up and notice the time.
I have 30 minutes to get to
the last boat. The mainland is
sinking, and I can’t float. Hope
is shrinking. Without thinking,
I rush to the dock with a bad
back and a knapsack. I approach
the dock with holes in my socks.
I see a light fading in the mist.
I get the gist. I missed the boat.
I drop to my knees. I curse
the skies and the stars above.
Seconds later, a flying saucer
takes shape of a loving dove
that spits green slime in my eye.
I wipe my face. I see a light.
No way this can be right.
The dove transforms back
into a flying saucer. A black-
eyed, small, frail, lifeform
comes flying out its door and
has its hands around my neck.
I jam my thumb in its green
head until, well, you know,
it was dead. Not after long,
I climb in the vacant saucer.
Just like that, I was a goner.
I may have missed the boat,
but I killed an alien and flew
to places only NASA knew
about. It was a better route.
Now, I stay put in Area 51,
where I hide from the sun.
Tag: flying
Rope Burns
As life gets heavier,
my grip naturally tightens.
I am playing tug of war,
and on the other side
of the rope is the fear
that I lose all hope.
I am always trying
to stay grounded when
my mind is flying.
I am trying to live
instead of thinking
of death or dying.
When I try to pull,
I feel that the hole
in my soul becomes
filled: almost full.
In this life, I tug, tug,
and tug. I attempt to
stand on top of a rug
that is being pulled
from under me. See,
these rope burns
come easy. I won’t
slip or lose my grip
until the sweet taste
of victory drips off
of my quivering lips.
Carried Away
Today, I got carried away.
Instead of work, I play.
Sometimes I forget to live
without stress. The older
I get, the shorter the days.
Today, I got carried away
from what I was doing.
Half the time, I don’t know
which direction to go.
The other half of the time,
I don’t know if I should
go outside or stay in
and hide. These long legs
carry me away. One point
to the next. Feeling blessed
in my chest, I hold my head
high. I look to the sky. I see
wings carry birds away.
I feel the wind chill my skin.
I can count on my days
getting carried away.
My mind might stray, yet
my body will stay. Blue
skies littered with birds
help me find the words
needed to carry me away.
I look ahead and know that
one day, blues fade to black.
The New Me
Take a look at the new me.
Don’t I look so different?
I couldn’t tell you where
the time went or how
commonsense was spent.
The current me is new,
and I live to be better –
more refined and defined.
The old me helped me see
what could be. The old me
didn’t care about we.
The new me believes
it takes a village to set
all free. Me – old, young,
fresh, or rotten – can’t
be forgotten. The old me
wanted what I now have.
It is time for the new me
to have the last laugh.
Hahaha – Blah Blah Blah.
Beam Me Up, Scotty
The humans have figured me out;
they know about my earthly mission.
Scotty, bleep bloopy. Bloopy bop. Bleep.
Only you will know what that means.
Anyway, the humans will try to keep
me here. So, I need you to beam me up,
Scotty. It’s different here. People hurt
others for being different: alien. Sure,
some don’t wear disguises, but most
hide behind a face that will change.
Before most sunrises, humans dream
of being part of the winning team.
There are too many surprises. Beam
me up. I can’t live in this human
body. Send the mothership, Scotty.