Buoyed up by abbreviations
and a sense of only apathy
I wander to gaga
Send them into space at speed
and imagine they are treated
like some alien race
The talking bed who only speaks terrestrial
The kettle that only boils
The toaster on a short fuse
Perhaps one day they will learn
how to communicate like us
say the aliens over cheese
and alien crumpets
Somewhere on the planet
someone has made a discovery
He is human afterall
Perhaps he could interperet
between these contraptions.
and the home planet
and then lead a mission for the aliens
Then he would not be the lien
but a toaster human
A quick poem by Andrew Watkins © 2020
Material things get the better of us 