David SmithWhite (270552 / Australia)

I'm trapped on an island, I know I can't leave.
My grim fear of flying is like a disease.
Flights of the fancies, fly high and fly free;
but flights of hysteria, tremble the knees.

Bottles of water and brim jars of gel,
scare the bejesus with tall tales of hell.
Box cutters and nutters in trim apparel;
the devils and demons and all the hard sell.

I'm not a good flyer. A coward I be.
I'm hostage to panic as a cruel fate decrees.
I'm twitchy and hyper and so ill at ease,
I'm an 'object of interest' to airport police.

Ethnic profiling and big brother sleaze.
Mercenary spying and a degrading striptease.
The corporate surveillance that red flags the breeze;
my grim fear of flying is like a disease.

Lipstick and toothpaste and all things that smell
like the odd dirty secret, or the IM text well.
What's next? Fly naked, so we all could just tell,
how real is the threat, that we so need dispel?

I'm not a good flyer. A coward I be.
No vestige of courage still remains to appease.
But the colours of terror are ramped up by degrees,
and my grim fear of flying is like a disease!