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        Day 63.

Do you ever feel like,
I don’t know…
Like maybe someone else
Could live your life much better,
Than you do ?
I get that, too.
I sometimes feel I’m wasted,
Seeing all this damned adventure,
When I wish I’d never tasted
But a tenth of all this new.
I mean, I try to be amazed,
But surely there are others,
Far more worthy, far less glazed,
Who would dig this cosmic zoo.
Ah, don’t mind me, mate,
I’m feeling just a little blue.
I guess I must admit,
I’m nothing great, I’m not the best –
I’m on the B-Ark manifest
Without a clue.
But here I am, and here you are,
We have to stride from star to star,
For if we stop and sulk, well,
We won’t get very far,
It’s true.

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        Day 55.

Isn’t it amazing news
How ev’ry airport looks the same ?
A giant warehouse full of queues,
I know, let’s play a game:
It’s guaranteed your flight’s delayed,
So take a look around the hall –
I know they’re aliens and all,
But still the same old cavalcade:

I spy, with a weary eye
An alien who’s lost his bags,
An insectoid afraid to fly,
A duty-free with tat and mags,
A child so bored she barely coping.
And security by goons:
(They’re utter vogons, those baboons,
With tentacles for better groping.)

Never mind.  At least you’re through –
They don’t much like us hitchers much.
Now find a UFO with crew
Who’ll let you ride by paying Dutch.
But just before they close the dome,
Look back.  For ev’ry grief and queue,
And ev’ry alien in view…
It’s good, for once, to feel at home.

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        Day 44.

It’s time to get off this planet,
It’s time to get out and roam,
It’s time for a trip in a rocket-ship,
To be one world closer to home.
So smuggle yourself in a cargo bay,
And let those improbabilities play !
We’ll pick up the guide on the other side –
Just hope that you’re heading my way !

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        Day 42.

I suppose you think today is special,
Suppose you think today’s the Answer:
“They can’t nail me to a tree,” you’ll say,
“I’ve just done six impossible things today !”
In fact, I spent my forty-second
Drinking with a two-headed chancer.
I risked the local brew – disaster !
It hit me worse that a triple-strength gargle-blaster.
Ah well, beware of the leopard, I guess…
(Though man, I wish I’d a towel for me head !)
Come on, best dust down the dressing gown,
And head off – before the petunias hit the ground.
Let’s leave the pondering to the mice,
Forgetting to fall, and flying instead –
I’ll somehow get you home, my friend,
To the fjords of Mostly Harmless in the end.

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        Day 27.

Ahead a few miles, there lies a town –
Well, more a collection of termite mounds,
Except that the mounds are giant mounds,
And the citizens aren’t quite termites, neither.
But they are well used to strangers here,
You won’t get a second glance –
If they had any eyes to glance with,
Instead of some kind of weird receiver.
Rest the night in the local inn –
You can pay with the knobbly leaves.
If you pick every one you see,
Then you’ll have enough to catch a breather.
Before you leave, check out the town:
This is real Space Who Trek Wars !
The whole place looks so cosmic, dude,
As if designed by Dali with a fever.
Do you have a phone or camera ?
Take lots of photos.  Wish I could, too.
And when you get back, if they ever doubt you,
Or you doubt yourself, they’ll keep you a believer.
Heading on, you’ll come to a river –
There’s a detour to a waterfall.
Well, actually it’s a water-rise,
Caused by a creature a bit like a trout or a beaver,
While almost entirely, but not quite, unlike either.

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        Day 23.

I met a friendly alien today,
Who helped me on my way –
I hope he’s still around
When you come through.
A sort of slug, he was,
A sort of fuzz,
Who made this chirping sound
And grew out of the ground,
All beige and blue.
At least, I’m saying ‘he’,
But in truth she could be ‘she’,
If they even have a gender there at all,
Or maybe three.
They’re all so alien, these aliens,
Not humanoids with silver skin !
I guess that’s why I like the guy:
She make me grin.
I met a friendly alien, it’s true,
When I really needed one !
I hope that he…or she…is there for you,
My girl…old son.

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        Day 11.

So how do you find the language, dude ?
(And by ‘dude’, I don’t mean it to be
An assumption you’re a bloke – not me !
You’re a dude, cos dude, you’re trekking ’cross the galaxy !)
So how do you find the language ?
Easier that you feared, I’ll bet –
I know, it’s just so odd, and yet…
They’ve always got the gist of it, from all I’ve met.
It’s somehow telepathic, I think
Cos some of them all talk with smell,
Yet they sniff us and still can tell.
I guess a thought’s a thought to them, and just as well !
Looks like we’ve found a Babel Fish !
I guess this means that God does not exist –
We’re on our own – let’s make a fist
And try to get back home before we’re missed.

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        Day 4.

How are you doing today ?  Still weirded-out ? Chin up..
We’ll get through this, you and I, we’ll both get through.
Are you finding enough of the knobbly leaves on which to feed ?
I sure hope so, or else I just don’t know what you’re gonna do.
But you should, they’re pretty common – at least, they are for me.
As long as they’re not seasonal – now there’s a nasty thought !
But then again, they’re hardly leaves at all, but something else –
Something alien.  But ‘leaves’ will do for now, don’t let’s get fraught.
They’re also full of water, so you’ll never have to risk a drink
Of what the locals drink – which, trust me, is by far best left alone !
To tell the truth, I’ve eaten every leaf and swallowed every berry,
And thrown them all back up again – ah, the joys of the unknown !
I had to try them all, of course, and I can say without a shadow
That the knobbly leaves are absolutely all that you can trust.
In fact, I’m only starting on this journal as I lie here, weakly,
Trying to recover as my body learns to readjust.
I was beset with fever, and I swore that should it ever break
I’d save the next poor refugee the horror that was brought on me.
So here it is – a promise kept.  And soon, adventure beckons –
Let’s make the most of sighting all these things we’d never sought to see.

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        Day 1.

Don’t panic.

Really, try.

Try not to panic.
Try not to cry.

I know…I know how you must feel,
Because I felt the same –
UFO and tractor beam,
The whole stupid game.
Who’d have thought the Future
Would be such a cliché ?  Retro-chic ?
Who’d have thought the Aliens
Would look so green and meek ?
I guess they had a job to do,
Exploring ev’ry human zone –
We’re prodded, probed and watched…always watched,
Yet always so alone.
And then after days, or weeks, or months,
Or who knows who cares how long,
Given back our clothes and liberty,
Turfed-out where we don’t belong.
But what do I know ?  Yours could be different –
It really matters none.
What matters is you’re here right now –
Your adventure’s just begun.
But unlike me, you’ve something more
Than the togs in which you stand.
You have my guide you’re holding now
To this very foreign land.
By chance, I had this notebook on me
When I reached these distant shores –
And now I shall record my journey,
Turn my good luck into yours.
You’re not alone, not any more –
I went before you, found the way –
I left this log, the one you found
On some scared and future day.
Just hope that you can read English –
If you can…well, then, hello.
It seems we’re living in science fiction,
Don’t let it give you vertigo.
Forgive me if I give voice to some wit
And a joke or two –
Especially from one author,
Who was far more right than he ever knew.
I hope they raise a knowing smile from you
And not a frown.
I wouldn’t like to think that I am
Getting anybody down.
I can’t give you answers
Over how or what or why –
All that I can tell you is –

Don’t panic.

Really, try.

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