Aliens among Us! (a poem)

Aliens among Us!


There are Aliens among us,
Silent in the moon’s light,
Among the stars they reside
Camouflaged; some under the sea
(Perhaps even under the Drake),
Others inside mountains,
Underground; some even walking
Among us, who look similar?
They sleep under the same skies as we
Hovering over us like spies and bees.

How many years have they been here?
Perhaps from the beginning, to our end—
With some kind of robe thrown over them
Silent, even in the daylight, they swarm
Over our sands, throwing glances
Here and there, like tourists!

The Greys, are the bad ones and the
Peacekeepers the good; they even have
A Charter, like the United Nations,
But the Greys only adhere to it
When they are forced to…like demon!

As they grow in numbers
On earth, their grief finds roots,
They are a dying-out race that needs
Our grace and space, our women
To displace; whose to say, why the United
States helps them build their bases,
Here and there on earth, they need
To realize, you play with the Devil,
You get cursed…! We are their pry,
—sooner than later, there will be war.

No: 2825 (10-10-2010)

The Essence of Earth
(Poetic Prose)



Inside of me, inside of each chromosome, I have the essence of Mother Earth All of her, from day one—four billion years ago, as Mother Earth has the essence of her solar system that surrounds her, which in essence involves our Galaxy and the Universe—and all those connecting Universes, all born somewhere in-between, the Big Bang and those passing fifteen billion years, and now. In each chromosome, in each cell I have 200,000-books of information, we all do. It connects in every direction to Mother Earth. My kind is called, by the name Homo sapiens, a species. Between my brain—cerebral hemispheres, two hundred million neural fibres are processing this poem—at this very minute, for you to read, and from what I’ve heard, scientists have created some neuroelectrical storm, that says all genetic material inside humans and his world, are molecules from a vulture who plucked us off some piece of corn only to wake up in the Garden of Eden; so goes our family histories.

No: 2824 (10-9-2010)

Dedicated to the Peacekeepers