Michael Jackson has become a Muslim,

And Hillary Clinton more important,

Barack Obama and his promises of change,

Are still waiting for a change.

The canoe-shaped moon looks at me,

As if it wants some company,

The November chill makes me reel,

Saddened by winter's biting steel.

I feel like an alien from another world,

Who has somehow lost his way down here,

My heart, my feelings, my very self,

Are wisdom-filled antiques in a dusty shelf.

I feel like somebody not meant for Earth,

Devoid of belonging to this mazy lurch,

My goodness is construed as weakness,

And my friendly ways a source of mirth.

How come I came to this unfriendly place,

Whose people love to make-up their face,

Where women love to jump and rave,

Displaying nakedness beneath lined lace.

There are planets floating all around,

Without any clue anywhere found,

I am all alone with a lonelier heart,

Seeking my true planet, my home ground.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Produced on the 22nd of November, 2008, in Karachi, Pakistan.

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