Alien Poem by Butch Decatoria

New
To this plasticity,

Grey matter in a nimbus
Mind as infinitely hollow as
A galaxy or dungeon deep dream
Lost to the starlight oblivion

Of distances we place
In the familiar / fealty and touch

Our human gravity,
Spirit and superstitious will
Heavy by testaments and old teachings still.

Yet war has long been our
Problem-child
And like the parents that we are

With these days, digital,
We are unwilling to accept its prognosis

Nothing more can be
Poured into a vessel,
Nothing more can be fed into the flame,

If ash and black
Lift into the sky…
It will be alien

To even try to
Resurrect another age.
When there is no warmth or
Use for light
It's a world unbecoming

alien…