Poems, 2009
Created | Updated Jun 3, 2009
From seven million light years hence,
A long long way to roam,
The aliens have come to Earth.
What's brought them from their home?
We asked them when they disembarked,
So haggard, pale, and gaunt.
Their leader candidly remarked,
"I'll tell you what we want:
Our poison ivy crops won't grow.
Great famine hurts us now,
And chicken soup, our age-old foe,
Springs up where e'er we plow.
You've poison ivy you can spare,
And chicken soup's your friend.
Please, let us trade, we all can share.
If not, we face our end."
Earth's representatives thought hard,
And said, "We'll work with you,
But much that we want to discard
We hope that you'll want too.
We're short on oil, and also cash,
But drunken stars? Too many!
Please take them! They've caused many a crash!
But dollars, have you any?"
"Our dollar plants are everywhere,"
The alien chief replied.
"For drunken stars we really care.
We've oil fields long and wide."
The trade was made, a great success!
One final gift they gave:
Ten billion videos, VHS.
Their exit then they made.
The Earthlings watched with great dismay.
Their hopes had been for nought.
"These videos we can't give away,"
Said one. "Those aliens rot."
A scientist said, "They won't get far.
These videos they'll reclaim.
You see, I have their warp drives here.
We'll make them play *our* game."
-----------------------------------
The Incorrigible Utopians’ Softball League
They gather every Saturday, complete with cheering fans,
With bats and mitts and balls, the brave Intrinsic Utopians.
What few men know, however, is this isn’t their real name.
They’re really the Intruders’ Union. Softball’s just their game.
Before intruders unionized, their jobs were often hard.
They worked for sixteen hours a day. Their health was often marred.
They suffered malnutrition if they happened to get sick.
A union seemed the answer. Could it work? Aye, there’s the trick.
Because their work’s illegal, social security doesn’t fly.
They can only get their health care if they do it on the sly.
