The Alien in my Shoes

by Master_Yoda

Published November 28, 2012

In Poetry

The Alien in my shoes

i ventured on a stroll one day
down a long and winding path
that might have looked like Eden Street
were i watching where i walked.

But i tell you with some small regret
that my eyes weren’t on the road
for i discovered something peculiar
that chilled me to the bone.

Try to remain calm as i tell you what i saw when i looked down to the ground.

i saw my trusty winter boots
soft and tight and warm,
and inside them stood an alien
where my own feet stood before.

i looked into his strange green eyes
and gritted my teeth like a crocodile
Get out, exotic friend, i said,
i need my shoes back now.

In defiance the alien replied,
I’ve been here for six months,
I know these used to be your shoes
but now they’re mine as well.

Unfortunately, the manners of extraterrestrials leave much to be desired.

Unwelcome, though my space-friend is,
he will not take his leave.
and i can feel his roots growing into my shoes
with the soles of my own feet

More and more i fear this fiend
from Venus or Mars or further away
he’s trying to completely steal my shoes
and interrupt my-

I will win, Earthling!
Comments & reviews · 2
User avatar
Audy
Review
Audy wrote a review Review · Dec 2, 2012

I feel like I understand you better, Yoda, my alien friend.

I kind of liked the uncapitalized I's :P They reminded me of

Spoiler
Image
crop circles 8D ohplease let the spoiler tags work in the literary review section

I kind of feel like the entire poem is deteriorating, which is kinda cool! You start out with a pretty nice, easy-going kind of rhythm that has its own little skip in its step, and then as you get further and further down the flow kinda gets looser and looser and less smooth, more abrupt...oooooooohhhh!

Well played.

~ as always, Audy

User avatar
Arcticus
Review
Arcticus wrote a review Review · Nov 28, 2012

I liked the idea.

"and interrupt my-
I will win, Earthling!"

That was clever.

All in all, a poem with a point to make.



I was flummoxed by fractious Franny's decision to abrogate analgesics for the moribund victims of the recent conflagration. Of course, to display histrionics was discretionary, but I did so anyways, implicating a friend in my drama to make the effect cumulative. I think a misanthrope would have a prosaic appellation, perhaps one related to autonomy and the rejection of anthropocentrism. I think they wouldn't think much of the prominence of watching the coagulation of tea to prognosticate future malevolent events, not even if those events were related to jurisprudence.
— Spearmint