by Stephanie Lippitt
Mr. Hawking doesn’t believe in communicating
with extra-terrestrial life.
He’s issued a warningwith extra-terrestrial life.
against alien mailing or phoning;
and I’m quoting
“Such advanced aliens would
perhaps become nomads,
looking to conquer and colonize
whatever planets they can reach”
But isn’t it odd
that such a scientific mind,
one that has vowed
to prove the impossible
and clarify the improbable,
would NOT want to
indulge his curiosity
and share a conversation
with our galaxy brethren?
Something is wrong here.
Hawking’s a little
too scared.
I think he’s hiding something,
something about himself
something that might explain why
the sciences of space
come so naturally…
I think Mr. Hawking is an Alien.
I think he’s on the lam.
They’re looking for him,
won’t stop till they find him,
and destroy him,
and obliterate
any planet he calls home.
Oh, Mr. Hawking,
what did you do?
Whom did you wrong?
Mr. Hawking,
we want to protect you,
we want to trust you,
but first,
you must reveal your secrets…
This poem brought to you by Stephanie Lippitt, a hyperactive creative writing and publishing student from Hofstra University who spends most of her free time taking photographs of people flipping her off. Oh yeah, she's worked for DC Comics too. No big deal or anything.
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