The dashboard’s going crazy -
Bells, whistles and flashing lights.
It’s ages since my cuppa
And there’s pink in with my whites.
Someone grab the steering wheel
(Of circular protrusion) .
Engaging nitrous oxide
To blow away confusion.
Where’s my bacon buttie gone?
I see Neptune through the hatch.
So much for floating objects
When your space ship’s made of thatch.
Steer left. We’ve blown a gasket.
Call a plumber. Alter course!
I’ve used up all my credit.
Use this tin can – Try some Morse..
There must be someone out there.
So pull yourself together.
We’ve jelly beans for buttons?
Gravestone – tulips or heather?
We’re on the final cycle.
Try to keep yer chin tucked in.
Whatever – destination
Scandinavian or Fin’.
It’s just, I saw a Viking
Sailing past, or was it me?
It could well be that wormholes
Have a touchdown in North Sea.
We’ve travelled so far out that
It would seem we’re coming back.
Get ready with your cam’ra.
As we’ll soon be seeing Zach.
The sense of ever onwards?
Disengaging crusin’ speed.
My pulse is back to normal..
There’s a sign for ‘Home Grown Seed’.
White lines – no longer merging.
My teeth have stopped a rattle.
Sorry for the landing ‘squish’.
Technology meets cattle.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem