Visitors

 

It all started with the dreams.

Nightmares and visions,

torturous screams.

It was like we were all watching the same movie scenes

played to us on internal cinema screens.

Deserted wastelands, desolate red countryside

and us all fleeing.

Rats trying to hide.

 

The itch began.

Deep inside the head.

Like insects were crawling inside,

flittering over things we've said.

Scratching did nothing to dull the itch,

it was infernal.

Nothing to do but feel the twitch

of this irritation internal.

 

Then came the rain,

the atmosphere was charged.

Storms filled the drains.

Through the rain voices filled our brains.

A language that we didn't understand,

not like human words,

projected sounds and visions into our pineal glands.

Filled our minds with images,

dark and vivid.

 

Then they came,

in ships that blocked out the sun,

from the stars.

We had nowhere to run.

They just hovered above.

Watching.

Waiting...

Were they expecting a welcoming?

or were they baiting?

To see if we would take our normal path.

Throw some missiles at them,

and not worry about the aftermath.

 

We did of course,

It is all us humans seem to be good for

death, destruction and war.

But it was like throwing stones at a tank

our nukes didn't make a dent,

collective hearts sank

and the ships still loomed in the air.

 

Gunpowder, pollution and radiation

was what the creatures were craving.

The atmosphere perfect for them to breathe.

They exited their ships

and took over the lands beneath.

They allowed us to live.

Worked us to death on their pollution machines,

slaves to their needs

and when we had served our purpose,

on us they would feed.

 

 

Thanks For Reading,

Peace, Love and Poetry.

Kyle