I rue the hearing of that tune

like a sandworm from planet Dune

it burrowed from ear to brain

where its bouncy pop egg was laid

but when the alien overlords arrive

fresh out of intergalactic drive

sitting parked up in our Thermosphere

we’ll offer them a welcome beer

they’ll think us weak in being kind

until we lodge that f@#%ing tune in their hive-mind

watching them gyrate in a spastic dance

their minds melted in a Zombie trance

like lemmings they’ll plummet from the ship

with that infernal tune on all eight lips

[National Poetry Month: Poem #5]