Poem 64

In response to Craig Raine’s A Martian Sends A Postcard Home which kicked off ‘a minor movement in British poetry in which everyday things and human behaviour are described in a strange way as if by a visiting Martian who does not understand them’ … always struck me as a little bit twee so here I adopt the other point of view …

… the machines of course would ironically be Space Invaders …

Send The Martians Home

they smell like nothing on earth
and play their crossover jazz records
too loud

        take your greasy orange suction cups off our music
        send the martians home

they're always chasing me up the street
trying to sell me things

        send the martians home

they're breeding in hot water cupboards
all over town
they're masquerading as science experiments
in our schools

        send the martians home

I'm tired of all the cute things
they come out with
I'm tired of them hanging around in the central city
eating far too many muesli bars
hogging the pool tables
I'm tired of them coming up to me saying
hey sucker I love your planet
can you lend me a twenny for the machines?

        2 - 4 - 6 - 8 who do we abominate?

        MARTIANS, MARTIANS, MARTIANS

where do they get off
looking at my world through new apertures
trying to tell me everything's wonderful
and strange here?