Loving The Alien On The Third Floor

The occasional individual on this planet will explode into this world and cry, fart, shit and scream.
They will grow-up, interact, experience, react, and perhaps on far to many occasions during their life, consider themselves to be left behind and fucked-up. Often misunderstood individuals with the feeling that the air they breathe is manufactured by humans whose only intention is to control, conquer, abuse and divide.

In my universe anyway....

Some of these individuals will have an outlook unlike the norm and sometimes will have a creative flicker which may separate them slightly from their peers or from those who surround them. Often though, the signs are less subtle and many of these individuals will just be shy or quiet and will never find themselves around entity's like themselves who will attempt to drag out and breathe warm air into all the best parts of their crash-landed frozen souls, shredded conscience's and tired hearts.
Sometimes, these individuals will wake up one morning....well into their life's and realize that something just ain't fucking right......

There's no real tell-tell signs to spot these intruders...
these isolated aliens.

Sometimes they just say what other people are thinking.
Paint to many pictures.
Sometimes they say fuck all.
Take to many photographs.
Sometimes they watch to much TV.
Don't run away when they can't understand the alien words.
Sometimes they listen to to much music.
Can't face the music when the music gets to loud.
Sometimes they bleed.
Sometimes they cry when they get hurt.

Sometimes they just get fucked over... again and again...and again.
Sometime they die and have to come back to life.....again....and again........and again.

Then there are the humans.
The humans who destroy what they cannot understand with their pre-defined conforming. With their harsh, ego-driven predictability and with their ability to deflect pain and star-sent power to lack a conscience.

Some of these humans often have no heart.
Some of these humans often have no grasp of cause and effect.
Some of these humans often have no idea that there's much more in this universe...than them.
Some of these humans want it all and don't bleed when you attempt to fight back and cut them.

Some of these humans want to smash their way through creation.
Erecting barriers, stop signs, and hunting down the aliens who carry the real stories and genuine pain within their pumping hearts....hunted and collected as emotional trophies and to pin on display within their sub-standard conscience and roll-call of emotionally devoid and destructive regard for human life and the consequences that spin out from their fake sense of security.

I suppose though that every carbon based life-form has got it's way...right or wrong?

Speaking as one individual who continues to undertake the painful, everlasting and life-time operation that attempts to turn and distance myself from a destructive, insensitive and emotionless devoid human....................and into a wide-eyed, smiling, babbling and blogging grey?

I'm a green, grass cutting, muck shovelling alien gardener.
I cut long crass so that you and your kids can play in comfort.
So that you and you're lover lover can pick-nick with pleasant dreams, gaze at the clouds and predict your cosy future.
So that you can hopefully see and therefore pick up the pile of shit when your loving pet dumps its load.
I cut hedges so that the child in your bouncing pram doesn't get it's eye poked out.
I plant flowers so that your scent, within that fleeting moment at least, is something beautiful and that your world of black and white has a small tint of colour.
As an alien, I parade proud.
Content to feel that I've felt something.
Content to consider that as I age and whilst the grass still remains green, the world really does does not revolve around me or the small fucked-up planets that circle me.


As a human when opened up, I have reeked.
As a human when opened up, I have stank.
As a human when opened up, I have rotted.
And as a human...when I have opened up and failed, I have excepted it as part of the expectable universe.

There are many levels of which we can sink to within our own area 51.
We can stop at those floors, peep out of the doors, say 'fuck it' and carry on up to the top because it's easy to avoid and dismiss the crap which may appear through the crack. Occasionally we step out into the basement. Once there we might get out and take in the worst aspects of ourselves.

The sickest dissection and grossest lobotomy may be revealed.
An alien autopsy through pain, fear and isolation can peel back the skin and tissue to reveal the beating heart..
If its beating at all?
If its there at all?

And now?....

This alien writes from happiness and sadness,
This alien writes from fears and drunken tears,
This alien writes from dark-places needing light,
This alien writes from the experiences that have formed him,
the experiences which he keeps feeling,
even after all these years.

Some of us fragile and illegal aliens are like bruised fruit, paraded in our nakedness upon the supermarket shelf. Our flaws, scars and fears are lit up and high-lighted by the intruding, stripped lighting.
Some of us are poked and prodded by the human passers by. We get touched and felt...then get thrown back as they move on to something more fresher, less scarred, younger and preserved.
We only get bought by the humans who like the oddity's, the humans who base it all on our ability to disintegrate quickly and who think no further than the discount on our bruised souls.
Some of us get prodded and poked before been purchased, brought home and stashed in dark corners by the one's who think that they can shape, slash, cut and discard us.
Once there, we are pushed around on our plates, we are tasted and we can be broken down easily.

Then we get eaten alive and shat out before they stride off arrogantly and confidently in search of human perfection.

Into alien rust.
Into Dust.
Sound as a fucking pound.....

These humans do not create and within their arrogance and complacency, have no idea of how to add new sparkle or genuine light to this universe.
They have no idea of how to mix the ingredients of which they possess or how to attempt to create the perfect blend. They have no soul.
Humans want it all so fucking easy.
Fuck you humans.....

Ever seen an alien smoking a cigarette?
Ever seen an alien walking his dog?
Ever seen an alien attempt to unclog his bath?
Ever seen an alien watching an episode of 'House'?

The universe can become fucked up and twisted.
It happens.