"I Want to be a Martian"
I Want to be a Martian
I sit alone in my room, staring up at the stars.
I’m sick of the swine flus, the mind’s blues, the pre-nups and the SARS.
I want to stand up at a comedy club way out up on Mars.
I’m sure to mix in some hardys with a couple of hars.
You see, it’s quite clear…I’ve got to be from outer space
I can’t understand the make up, the lipstick, the powdered face.
This is theater after all, so I guess that last line was out of place.
It’s just that…I’m sure my fellow Martians aren’t bound by hate.
Everyone is different up there, and they get it…not like this confounded place.
Alas, however, and although I’d love to bid it adieu…
I can’t yet…so I stand in front of a crowd of people…talking…but talking to who…
Or is it whom? Why should it matter…whomever or whoever, you’re all here too.
But when I’m by myself again…I sit and I spew.
I talk to the solar system…and tell it… “The only thing missing is you”.
You may say there are no Martians and that there are just weird people.
But I say, is that a space station I am facing or just chasing mere steeples.
Are we encasing sheer evil or encased in pure lethal…
venom that’s got us vehemently straying from making the peers equal?
I’m just stating what a seer sees…because I am aware there are hearers present…
so this is much more than merely soliloquy. More or less it is the epitome…
of the reasoning behind which I intend to make you see that being here for me…
is not meant to be.
I am marooned away from my home land but not mining for sympathy.
I’m more so pining for a time when my empathy…
Is for the poor souls on this planet I am visiting, as my ship is whisked away in the sea.
I aim to once again set sail on the waters of the Milky Way’s mystic swirl.
Because…
I’m an alien…I’m a legal alien
I’m an alien in this world.
© 2008-2009 Malik Peterson. All Rights Reserved.
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