- Books, Literature, and Writing
Alien child poem
Non conformist, your development doesn’t fit their charts, we are called in to chat
They tell us you have a will of iron
You just don’t like their games, their system, their lines and queues
Do you see fear in their eyes?
Do you know you have them on the run?
Should we tell them the truth?
You’re an alien, you have alien intelligence
Che Guevara and you
Four years old, you are never hostile to their plans but you have agendas of your own
You suck your thumb and hold close your cloth to communicate with moonbeam radio
When their demands are just too much your angel face bursts with tears but you never let go that will of iron, you are majestic
When I first saw you I couldn’t discern your nose
You were a strange faced noseless alien
My alien from my planet, other worldly
Disconnected from our words and letters and numbers you are served action plans
Sweet but troublesome, they don’t notice your antennae or your double eyelid blinks
Transmogrification is your special talent, you can be a dinosaur, dog, cat or horse in body and soul
Once, sat in you car seat, your mimicry of a cat’s miaow was too real
Now it's officially winter the teachers fight you to put on your coat
They don’t know the heat properties of alien skin when at speed in playground races
You won’t sit on their carpet too long, you leave the group to be a bird
Pink is your favourite colour, your eyes are green
On your planet red is sometimes green and green is sometimes red
You see the deeper tectonic wave patterns of the colours of our worlds
You are fearless and climbed the thirty foot high blue slide with the big kids at two and a half
You slid the bumpy blue plastic with joy, it was a nothing after interstellar flight
Each night you demand to be fed more of our earth stories yet the teachers tell us you have no interest in books
Are you scared your cover will be blown?
You are alien which means I am alien, we are aliens they cannot see, they think we are one of them
But teacher's training only touched on homeworld children, how could they see?
I am old and have forgotten my world, you take my hand to unveil my alien heritage again
I must listen harder to your incomprehensible babble, I know now it is our language; the language of our forefathers
The song in our blood that must be sung and when you are old and you have learnt the secret of invisibility and the teachers notice nothing amiss let me whisper that song in your ear once again
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