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Stars like in the universe
Harbor aliens extraterrestrials
Ours someplace the galaxy
Others out there our starry
Copyright 2018 Joyce Taylor
Visit my alien poetry site http://spaceofjoyce.tripod.com/index.htm
The stars r the planets
The planets twirl of aliens???
Worlds many the galaxy like Martian???
Earthlings look up just looking...
Copyright 2018 Joyce Taylor
Visit my alien poetry site http://spaceofjoyce.tripod.com/index.htm
Jey Blu Nov 1
Amanda confidently made the first incision on the corpse, as she’d done many times before. Starting near the right shoulder, she pulled the scalpel through the layers of tissue down the middle of the abdomen. She bobbed her head as she worked, listening to Where Did the Party Go by Fall Out Boy. The pathologist turned away from the body and pushed her long black hair out of her hands with her wrist. Taking her gloves off, she turned the **** on her speaker. “My old aches become new again, my old friends become exes again…” She hummed the tune while securing her locks in a ponytail. Pausing, she picked up her phone and rewinded the music. She could have sworn she Patrick Stump sing the words, “Woah, where did the body go?” Listening closer this time, she started the song. “Woah, where did the party go?” played through the speaker. She shook her head and took another sip of her coffee.
She gazed at the ceiling, bright lights blinding her suddenly. “Jordan!” She waited for a reply. Nothing. She called again. Flustered, she sighed and looked over at the schedule pinned to the wall. Jordan wasn’t scheduled today, Amanda was the only one. “Then why did the lights- Never mind.” She was obviously just tired. Tugging on another pair of gloves, she picked up a pair of forceps and a scalpel and turned back towards the body. It was gone! She looked behind and underneath the table, thinking it had fallen. It wasn’t there. “****! How am I going to explain this to the family?”
“You can’t.” She jumped at the deep, gravelly voice. “Wh-who are you?” she asked with uncertainty. Amanda was too afraid to look him in the face yet. “That’s not important,” the voice replied. “We need you to come with us.”
“We?” She looked towards the direction of the voice. There were thirteen men in black suits with dark shades standing in formation at the door. “Why? Will you tell me where the body is?”
“Just follow us, ma’am. We’ll explain everything in the car.” She followed them out the door. The man who spoke led her to a black Range Rover with extremely tinted windows. Once they were in the car, the man introduced himself. “I’m Peter C. Schultz. I work with the MIB.”
“MIB? Like in that movie with Will Smith?” She sounded confused.
“Exactly. But we don’t get laser guns.” He smiled, hoping to earn her trust.
She laughed softly and looked out the window. “So was he an alien?”
“Possibly. The craft seems to have removed the body, sensing alien DNA in the area.” Peter looked over his shoulder, quickly pulled out of the parking spot and turned onto the highway. Amanda still wasn’t sure if she was awake. Aliens? MIB? A disappearing body? What if they had taken her instead? All types of thoughts swirled through her head.
They arrived at a large, nondescript building. She hopped out of the range rover and shut her door. The men lead her into the building and down the hall to an interrogation room.
“So, Ms. Browne, tell me. Did you notice any strange noises or lights at the time the body “Um. Yeah, yeah, uh, there was. I was listening to music and the lyrics sounded different. I replayed the track and it sounded normal. There was also a bright flash of light right before I noticed the body was gone. I thought it was my assistant, but they didn’t weren’t on the schedule.”
“We’ve heard of the lyrics changing before. The lights are different, they don’t usually come that close.” Peter sighed.
“Before? You mean to tell me people’s bodies have been stolen by aliens before? What the ****?!? Why doesn’t the government tell us these things?” She started to panic.
“Calm down, Ms. Browne. The MIB has it all under control. Amanda stared him in the eyes. “Really? Because there are BODIES missing! That doesn’t seem under control!” She was yelling at this point.
Peter took a step towards her. She continued to glare at him. All of a sudden, his eyes went black. Amanda was confused. This had to be a dream. A lizard like tongue flicked out of Peter’s mouth. Blood poured out of his mouth and dribbled down his chin. She screamed and tried to run. A hand with sharp long nails and slender blue fingers came up from behind her shoulder and covered her mouth. She was instantly silenced. Another hand pushed her back to her chair, the alien body pressing against her. She forcibly sat down. The hands let go of her. The terrified pathologist tried to scream but didn’t have the ability to even whisper. Peter’s form changed into a tall, blue, thin body with disproportionately long arms and neck. She shook from head to toe, when suddenly she heard a strange voice in her mind. It spoke in alien tongue but she could somehow understand it. It said, “Look into the mirror placed in front of you. Be terrified of what you see and know it is your truth.” With shaky hands, she picked up the piece of reflective glass lying in front of her. Bringing it to her face, she looked at the aliens and then herself. She stared back into cold black eyes. She opened her mouth and could see the lizard tongue curled up between her sharp, pointed teeth. She expected to be scared, but instead felt strangely content. She noticed a new hunger awakening from deep inside her. Amanda stood up and walked over to the aliens. Her own kind. She spoke in the native alien language she now had a name for, Kewalanaei. “Do you have anymore of the body left? I need flesh.” Peter grinned toothily and led her into a room where hundreds of bodies lay. They feasted.
I know this isn't a poem or perfectly edited but its just something I wrote for class and kinda liked. I might start doing more 45 minute writes. Hope you enjoy it :)
JR Rhine Oct 30
High above dear Maple Street
There looms a cold iron curtain of fear
That dares to drop and let all the monsters
Unleash their dreaded promise of chaos
As in Europe despots gift a new World War
Trembling parlors hug the radio

Hallows Eve: the radio
Begins to sing throughout dear Maple Street
The Seventh Trumpet declares all out war
And that heavy iron curtain of fear
Eclipses the sun and invites chaos
In vacant hearts of men into monsters

Halloween Night: the monsters
Now dance to the tune of the radio
Raiding the stores, jumping bridges, chaos
Entombing the stretch of this blood strewn street
Parlors gorging on endless waves of fear
Riding hysteria, imminent war

O great catalyst of war
Twisting the minds of men into monsters
Diving your hands in that great pit of fear
Now throbbing with screams from the radio
No fences nor faces can save Maple Street
Now plunged in the throes of sweet sultry Chaos

And we call it Chaos
This boiling of minds all stewing with war
Once masked with humanity on this street
Now reveals good neighbors make great monsters
Skies of martians (n)or men, the radio
Hissing, twists the knobs and tunes in to fear

And when that curtain of fear
Draws, and shadeless light casts on the chaos
And the broadcast fades on the radio
And mere fiction rescinds the throne of war
What will we make of all of these monsters
Scattered about in a daze through the street

Where there are minds of fear and war,
Chaos reigns and calls to the sleeping monsters;
Tune in to Welles’s radio on Sterling’s street.
All Hallow's Eve, 80 years ago today, Orson Welles gave his "War of the Worlds" radio broadcast to an America terrified of war, enveloped in fear. I tied it into one of my favorite episodes of the Twilight Zone by the same name, where a neighborhood becomes engrossed in fear, resorting to an animal-like defense that eventually tears apart their humanity.
A Trojan horse. As Cleopatra in a carpet
Enters hidden on a breath
Incubus; droplet alien drawn in,
sets about its work; brooding job to do.

Awaken a little stiff, sweat and grog
A scratchy throat; a swollen lymph
Shower power, rinse and coffee makes well.
No. Twas not to be this false alarm, I’d grabbed.

Working fast now, growing, flooding
like snow melt hitting parched desert.
Seeping into cracks; changing blood-scapes.
Reprographic virus; dissociative – to thrive.

A false pardon was granted this morning
Cruel deception, such as played on Nick Bottom
teased mind into belief; a surge of relief,
Just early morning rust; blow away sleep dust.

I am sick of it now, the sickness; the bug.
My alien visitors; my too close encounter
making things smell wrong – like vinegar
and my nose pop as each side turns to unblock.

As big screen drama – epic plays out in my mind.
The white cells; the soldiers wiping out alien-kind
Dualling MacDuff and MacBeth in Dunsinane cell
Waging battle within me; my man-flu living ****.

©pofacedpoetry Billy Reynard-Bowness (2018) all right’s reserved
Suffering, as only a man can! An epic battle against alien invaders - the flu'
Daniel Ruiz Oct 4
making a scandal,
not finding what they were
looking for in the first place,

going door to door,
searching for little
specks of hope,
even if they didn't find
what they were looking for,

They were fascinated,
truly,
by what we thought hope was,

we found hope,
in love,
in friendship,
weirdly,
we found hope,
in superficial stuff,
and in stuff that made our
brains feel good,

Emotions,
that didn't have to do,
with the thought of killing myself.

The Lost And confused space men,
didn't think twice about leaving,
our horrifying blue rock.

They didn't find what they were looking for.

though,
I believe they found something better.
Aaron LaLux Sep 23
Darwin’s Coffee ***

Not enough coffee in the ***,
to keep me awake through this daydream,
not calling the kettle black I’m calling us all containers in this melting ***,
so I try to keep myself in shape by staying gluten free,

going for the long shot,
like I’m shooting a 3,
all in like a Hotshot,
no hotdogs just coleslaw and greens,

jeez,
what a trip it is this life I lead,
see,
right now I’m in at a hotel on a beach,

in a town called Darwin,
in The Northern Territory,
which is ironic because I’m pondering,
the thought that maybe we’re all aliens,

or at least have 10% extraterrestrial in our genes,
which makes us extraordinarily extra special,
plus it supports my theory that we’re all aliens,
seriously Google Missing Genetic Link,

give it a think,
humans themselves are the Missing Link,
and even Charles Darwin can’t solve the problem,
of not being able to connect our missing link,

and I want to keep writing about it,
but I think instead I’ll go for a swim in the sea,
because I’m tired of writing the water looks inviting,
and not only that but I’m both exited and sleepy,

Not enough coffee in the ***,
to keep me awake through this daydream…

∆ LaLux ∆
Ross Baldwin Aug 12
Where is the sky,
when you're scared to raise your eyes?
What lurks above,
in the absent space,
when irrationality tells you tales of aliens?
I shudder at my thoughts,
live in constant worry over the higher place,
avert skyward attention through my fear of the unknown.
I count the days till I drop and float up there,
till I have to face that which waits.

Oh you creatures /
You gods and dead /
You satellite haunts /
How long till I am one of you?
How long till I become another dying star in the dark,
misinterpreted by those who believe something better awaits?
How long till I orbit a planet I will never miss?
UFOs and alien dreams
They stood around me as I screamed
They shone a light into my face
And declared ME from outer space
Bea Mecum Jul 22
And I saw them
From my front porch
and I saw them
from my yard
and I saw them
by the millions
they are coming down here
where we are
And they'll call in
the entire millitary
It'll baffel
the machine
I will question
the authorities
and maybe break some rules
I have profound
compound evidence
that we're all living
in a dream
like some kind of complex system
to divide infinity
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