September 10, 2014

Alien Nation. ~ Kalee Prue {Poem}

shadow points at sky

I live in an Alien Nation

surrounded everyday by miles of steel and windshield

mazes of glazed-eyed faces

when I dare to venture from behind my castle walls

I live in an alien nation

where I have to sing loudly, have to speak loudly or be drowned

by the deafening silence, the roar of white noise

I live in a nation where my child can be taken at the drop of a dime

where doing right by my son is a crime

where teaching the truth about this paradigm

is a potential life sentence

where child abuse is a refusal to poison his blood…

where normalcy is corrupted genes, and flashing screens, and gory scenes

where we’re trained to sleep but never to dream

taught to listen but not to hear

not to fight, but embrace our fear

told to look but not to see

the curtained men behind TV…

and the lies, all the lies of the blood, white and blue

are sang out as gospel, while condemned whisper truth.


I live in an Alien Nation

where rights are recognized and you are a free being,

so long as I agree with your preference, your perspective

all subjectives must align with Government approved objectives

in order to be allowed to apply

to sit in an office

to get on a list

to wait for your turn

to exercise your freedoms.

in the home where the brave rave about the land of the free.


I live in an alien world where the rain that falls upon my roof

must be paid for with tithings

of bloodied bills and silver chips

before I let it cross my lips…

and quench the thirst for God knows what

where raped and battered all are sluts

where love is damned on hateful signs

is it any wonder? the crumbling of times…

In this alien nation, this glittering town

where buildings are blown up then blamed on the brown

while the flock doesn’t notice that murderous clown…

And now Jesus has come!

but he’s still dropping bombs…

but his crimes are forgiven because of his skin

because everything’s twisted and virtue is sin.

where aging is a terror

and death is a failure

despite the pain or the shape that we’re in.


In this alien nation this world I live in

can’t anyone tell me where to begin

how do we fix up this mess that we’re in?

but no… I live in an alien nation…

I live in alienation

where awkwardness conceals kindness

where insecurities leftover from last years dinner

obscure a heart two sizes too large.

My alien nation is tribeless

though full of love and a family clan heaped with beauty and good intentions

but stuck in the ruts and ditches of a long hard road

generations of blue collars, red necks, and white privilege

in the land of blue blood, mountains of green, and foundations of war machines.

I live in an alienation where confidence is bought, inherited, or peer reviewed.

In my closet are dozens of variations…

outfits of confidence I try on for size

take off, hang back up for another day

or leave crumpled, crying in a heap on the floor in my closet.

In my closet I rent to own.

Spoken word, fumbled songs,

borrowed confidence I hope to someday own

Of the radiant woman I aspire to be…

one day when the fit is right.


I live in an Alien Nation

where the story in my open book is not received

made into a movie for TV,

but instead deceived

the heart on my sleeve

made into a sly and slick game of charades

a subtle parade of mockery

where vulnerabilities are exploited and heckled

as gross imperfections displayed by artists

who seek to hurt but claim to heal.


I live

in an alien nation full of broken children

struggling to place those missing pieces,

stuck in boxes,

crawling under tables

digging in bins in the back of our closets….

looking… searching… hunting

for those missing parts, those broken toys

broken girls… broken boys…


I live in an alien nation where color

where vibrancy and smiles conceal pain and very real scars

no judgement on who bears the heaviest burden

and no pity requested or even tolerated

just the acknowledgement of the presence of those scars

in hopes that they will be seen as open to healing

not scabs for the picking because….

after all,

I live in a scarred nation

a scared nation, a falling nation, a sleeping nation, a weeping nation.

A nation where some sing sweetly and some sing to a different tone

not deaf, but strum a different song, hum a different tune

A nation where words can maim

can cause great pain

to those who have both ears and tears,

in this nation of sharp tongues and jealous eyes.

In this nation of forests and trees,

birds and bees,

of sticks and stones and broken bones,

of war and blood, and kings on thrones

this alien nation that we don’t own

that’s littered with oil, with greens, but not ferns

that’s pushing and pulling and bending and breaking

with some who are giving but more who are taking

and talking not doing, and talking and faking

and I just can’t stand it!


I struggle to stand, and I struggle to walk

and I doubt what I see, what I think, what you talk…

and I read and I plan

and I scream damn the man!

and I give, talk, and beg, and I offer my hand…

but I can’t say for sure, just with whom should I stand?

In this revolution

This conscious evolution.





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Apprentice Editor: Guenevere Neufeld / Editor: Emily Bartran

Photo: Author’s Own

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