Oh, our public, adhering to their asphyxiating grind
Something tragic, is to happen,
Something that succeeds a slew of neglected signs

Massive foreign aircraft thrusting into, our flimsy atmosphere
Knocking million dollar radars askew, corroborating conspiracy fears

Amidst ominous clouds, floating warily over your sleeping form
At first sight, clusters of back alley junkies shout
"What the eff man?" while clambering for any port to hide from the impending storm,

Assault of phosphorescence, bearing down on our pompous metropolitan architecture
Skin is crawling at their resemblance
to our own physical norm
as lunar illuminations reveal more of their unorthodox features

We discover how dissimilar, they are

With hollowed out heads and seeking eyes the color of black coffee
Confident gait as their dignitary approaches a fascinated me
Damp webbed fingers clasp my trembling shoulders and my nostrils flare
Taking in the odor of what seems to be marine carcass, erecting the hairs
on my neck, down my straightened spine,
and I disconnect
from current time.

Gunshots blaring, in the throes of night
Barrage of yelling, cowards crying out for light

See, they scamper, only to retrieve their weapons
Questions with no time for answers, for wasting sacred seconds

Their mammoth craft is perched, on the city's most beloved tower,
They aim at the mosque, the temple, the church
They've their own conclusions as to the source of our 


Rolling out sleek contraptions, poised to snatch our beings
our meager technological advancements, 

so occurs a mass fleeing.

Eyes of the moon knowingly observe, as muted descendants
dispossess their unsullied nerves, their parents remain behind

to beg for repentance

from inherited deities, shelved away from modern thinking
Shadows crash-landing on our cities, 

They are coming. They're approaching!

They're already here! 
Round the corners of stainless steel structures, underneath your bed
I hear my brethren beginning to remember, nothing can be confined to just 
your head

This monochromatic twilight, is doused in our true colors,
Where is the savior to salvage your sanity from this plight?
Whom shall you serve when your faith crumbles at what you discover?

Sister's silent, Mother's sobbing on her prayer mat
Father's hell-bent, on finding something in this scenario to laugh at

The prime minister's tucked away in the confession room
while the foreigners outside keep on with their havoc, stay on with their doom

Sunken eyeballs of the victims, stare out into the mocking stars
Throngs of skedaddlers, I do not join them
Rooted to the same spot in the eye of this one-sided war

Buildings engulfed in flames, as the foreigners walk over the burned
Our toy soldiers play this like a video game, 
but death is not to tempt, and it is far too late to learn

Shop windows shattered, criminals attempt to ride the situation
Our money fails to matter, when the fate of the world is in question

I swivel my head to see their leader, fixated on my anatomy
When It plods over, my fascination overpowers me

From its tentacled maw a shrill emission, audible even in the sea of noise,
Extending Its hand to coax my decision, 

I look back at the devastation
and attach myself to a choice

Disruptive noises of explosions, why do my kin believe we stand a chance?
Despite Its possible intent I am not frightened
when it wraps its slimy fingers around my own hands

We're absorbing the sight of each other, I admire Its sinewy sloping shoulders
I don't hear my people running for cover, but I can feel my body becoming colder

as It caresses my nape, our hands still intertwined
as I accept my supposed fate, and relax my apprehensive mind

Sister's lying, next to Mother, heads buried in our backyard dirt
Father was foolish enough to resist, his face frozen in a smirk

but I'm numb in Its arms, to the suffering taking place all around
It does not seem to mean me any harm, as the craft lifts off the ground

Engines roar and I shuffle my feet, I watch the ravaged city below
I can see Oak Street, where I used to refer to as my only home

where Father's tales would be told, stories of abduction and alien broods
and Mother, upon hearing, would groan, and warn me not to waste any food

at the dinner table, thanking our Maker for blessing us for every breath
age enabled, us to mislead ourselves into assuming nothing lay beyond death

What do I know? As It absorbs my blank expression as the craft ascends the gloomy sky
I grip Its fingers more tightly and assure myself

It's my right to survive.


NOTE: i I haven't written a poem in such a loooonnngggg time. So, this served as a useful writing exercise to rejuvinate me. Haha.I just thought I'd share my brain juice! RAWR. I know it's (kinda sorta maybe) lame, but...whatever. :p


© Hazim Haemoglobin 2012



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