A moment of your time dear friend,
whether you understand or scoff,
for cash is king and if its in your pocket,
then they can't just turn you off?

It was a weird thing when aliens landed,      
they didn’t present to a head of state.    
It was Mike down the road, the one with the bike.    
You know, Allen and Steve's mate.    

They sat across a table Mike and two aliens,    
after settling a few ”coughs” then Mike spoke!  
Its an honor to meet you, I’m sure there’s much to share,
from the perspective of an ordinary bloke.  


The alien nodded, I'm sure that’s the case.  


Closed hands opened showing images of bright light!  
But first what are these things?  
That go into other humans,    
and what are these words “****” and “fight!    

Mike looked at the images and bullets he saw,
Explained their purpose and sizes therein,
even some a hundred feet high, that fly over cities and ****!
In the grand scheme of things classed as a win.

After confusion had passed on how big humans get?
Mike sat patiently while the aliens conferred,
worried of his honesty, for what the aliens called pointy things!
He saw they were worried by all that they’d heard.

After a while the aliens straightened,
With regard to this information, they’d heard enough?
“Mass evacuation! minus those with pointy things!
We’ve washing machines and the like, you don’t need lots of stuff.


Those with pointy things will no doubt blame each other!
We'll return at a later date and clean up the mess.
Inform your world to pack! Our race will come and get you,
for this is a problem we have no choice, but to address.

Fine mike says, I'll tell the missus, they shake hands, nod,
and the aliens are left quietly sitting alone.
An uncomfortable silence now fills the room,
one at ease, the other a face of stone!

Leave them alone I said! We'll come back later.
Why not be content with that?
But oh no! Oh no! They might be intelligent?
I really hope your happy now you prat!

A poppy red for our glorious dead,
a field of sacrifice swaying gently with the wind.
A grateful minute for fallen hearts, oaths defiant,
that none would rescind.  

Silent stand the ranks unseen,
of a Sunday solemn of bugle gleam.
Their muster to honor the living,
as far as the eye could see.
Proud ranks in best dress quietly stand,
    that died for you and me.

Of all the things a man can say,
the worst is i forgot.
for it is the doom of men that they forget,
and of women they do not.

With regard to my belief in god and the devil,  
I'd  be inclined to say of neither!      
I’ve offered my soul on both accounts,    
and received no reply from either?

Like a vicious circle you can spiral,
like a wheel within a wheel,
like a odd sock without a purpose,
forgetting how to smile or feel.

Like walking slow but holding scissors,
and ignoring an untied lace,
like being still in moving traffic,
knowing where you are, but out of place.

These are the images and stuff,
when you don't get out enough.

Like a needle stuck on record,
trapped in a carnival balloon,
like drip of a tap becomes your heartbeat,
quenching your sun to cool to moon,

Like pacing blind within a circle,
like the wringing of broken hands,
like a frozen clock face crying,
at frozen grains in hourglass sands.

These are the images and stuff,
if you just don't get out enough.

Like a day as nights not sleeping,
like a limbo forged from choice,
like watching life flash by your window,
screaming warning with no voice.

Like mental weather that can chill you,
with silken "words of truth" you wish not hear,
like in a  bag your slowly drowning,
weighted with false strengths, to mask a fear.

These are the images and stuff,
when you just don't get out enough.

Like a circle in a spiral,
like a wheel within a wheel,
like soothing surrogate emotions,
like you must dwell on what you feel.

These are the images and stuff,
if you...just cant...get out enough!