Intergalactic Journey of a Broken Cruet
The Zimmer by the garage door
The plough-share in the lane
They tell a tale from long before
the Flimby-Flombies came
Is this tale fit for YOUR ears? It's no game!
Many folk can tell you how
The ploughman, to his shame,
Was taken in a UFO
(at least, that was his claim)
To merely watch "The X Files" ain't the same.
Beyond the sky, in silver robes,
Spawn of the fecund void
Came those whose ears have thirteen lobes
Whose surnames end with "-droid"
Yelling in fluent Klingon: "Where's Jim Boyd?"
Obliged to plough the Milky Way
In their spaceship called 'Green Day'
to boldly go where none have gone before
Throwing the Zimmer frame away
To stand upon their own three feet once more
While Jim the ploughman pursed his lips
Two comets split the dark
Resolving into cosmic ships
Of outline grim and stark
And sound like song of diabolic lark.
The hatches opened: out there strode
(The starlight chill as tin)
Nine hominids who bulged, who glowed
Whose faces, sickly thin,
Bespoke the poisoned pallor of their skin
And thus the Poet, caked with grime,
(as Pastoral dictates)
And luminously dressed in slime
Defies these potentates;
But who may know the name of Him who Waits?
The Zimmer-business, unresolved,
Will stretch the strangers' minds
'Twas not for this that they evolved
Those glimmering behinds
The moral, I suppose: it takes all kinds
And through the starfield, furrowed now
They wend their weary way
While Jim, be-zimmered, shows them how
To live on half the pay
By bending time to turn black night to day
Contributors: | KT, The Agent Apsley, Roland, Dee Jay Dave, E Greejius, P, TG, Matt Wright, DeeJay Dave, Grayman. |
Poem finished: | 23rd January 2000. |