PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

There’s a bear in our backyard, and a bunch of cubs… I suspect shapeshifters, flaunting said flesh-sacks like astronaut armor. Oh, I’ve known it long and well. Spirits from space, born of stardust, or something stranger maybe. She pretends to be playful (well, she pretty playful) but watch your six there soldier: pretty sinister too. I remember when their antenna finally activated, how it electrocuted the sky. The chosen few (me included) heard a booming beep in our brains but who could sworn we really received? Yes, and the pedestrians all froze like petrified treasure, and a monstrous holograph took shape in the sky. Octopus Gods. The message commenced thusly: “People of earth, we greet you.”

 Where did all this come from? There was a time I would've died to have known. The writer's life is a lonely life. I'm like a ghost in this home. The red envelope was embroidered with lace. Too bad she's an alien. General quality and performance level enhancements, they tell you. Insects. Conduct one bubbly little brothel, though, tell you what. Methinks I might've spent a few too many moons there (drunk too much). The Deva Planet juggles the juiciest boobs. Pale man in a green suit: weren't you just here with me, moments ago? So where are you now, and where did you go? I chased spirits into the wilderness and wound up with warts. There was a wizard there, with a white beard, who told me to do it... Jolly rollicking, is it not?

 I decided to think things over by the bar. I ordered another pint of parabolic phlegm. A bloodthirsty succubus appeared to me as from out a cloud of dust, behind the bar. Her whole head was a mole. Inquired what it was I might be looking to tickle the tongue with tonight? I repeat myself again, pint of parabolic, I said. Her tentacles twitched. She secreted something viscous from her upper udder. A curious cocktail, I confess. I pick up the drink and tilt back my head and throw it down quickly. Bryophyta. Next round.

 The mothership stutters, a strange language of swamp song curdles beep-bop cryptic reptilian clicks which echoes the intercom. The passengers panic. We proceed to warp speed. The liquor glasses were constructed with a rare kind of crystal that is immovable unless caressed with sentience, so the sudden quake that came when shooting through the entry portal did not cause them to slide off the tables nor shatter. Calculating this, the passengers clap happily. I, on the other hand, simply smirk, and when catching a shared glance with the tentacled waitress, gain a favorable and flirtatious little double wink. Perhaps, after all, it was merely her regular blinking eyeballs, as I am indeed acutely aware of my own inclination to these pathetic pandering patterns of idiotic wishful thinking.

 Anyways, the portal was purple. We pierced through the veil. The whole hall was enchanted with a melancholy the likeness of which you've never seen before (we were lucky enough to be blessed with a ticket), and would steal your breath and snatch your soul. It was like being kissed with the dog-tongue of a Goddess. The crystalline thick water windows were as pure and clear as your Florida beaches, dancing now with fancy phantoms. I do miss those dolphins though. Not only did the dim tavern suddenly become so hypnotically illuminated that it added a much better level of visibility, but something seemed to simply wash over us. Everyone gets possessed.

 I modestly slurped my strawberry cocktail, reluctantly sipped my poisonous potion. A euphemism purposed to render the reality of a disgustingly bloody substance drinkable rather than gag at it. Somehow my ego was negatively affected so I resolved to just chug the stuff instead. My master back down on Earth would've smacked me if he caught me imbibe like that, with that fawn stick of his, and fling my gourd angrily to the floor, shriek something in Chinese, and go right back to stroking his wizard whiskers as if nothing ever happened.

 So I prayed for a probe, and they answered. You don’t know me the way they do. You don’t hope to know neither. Supreme beings, these. Show you something in the ether beyond. Oh, they’ll show you something special, indeed, and offer you a reason to believe. A message for you feeble friends, who are yet condemned.