I’ve never read Keats, Coleridge or Chaucer

I don’t believe in flying saucers,

but inspiration I sometimes find

in an unknown source that’s in my mind

 

It’s as if something weird has taken me over 

Infiltrated my thoughts as I get older

But how can I stop it, making me write

scary things that give people frights

 

When I feel it inside it sets me off shaking

In fear and awe, it’s just jaw breaking,

I get really ill and my body’s all trembling

So much so I have trouble remembering.

 

Now I think what really happens here

is that aliens who like having a beer, 

are looking for gullible people like me

with a house, some food and a family

 

They want to find out more and more 

about human beings, warts and all

No not on the face of your Auntie Lilly

who still thinks a pound is twenty shillings

 

No they want to learn our traits and moods.

Know all we do, even’t bits thats rude

Then they’ll turn our civilised society,

into Clones that write this type of poetry!