Visitors From The Orion Belt and Crop Circles. Poem by Tor Magnor Solvang

Far out in the Orion Belt,
Where stellar radiation always melts,
Three aliens in glowing thongs
Are practicing their cosmic songs.

Their boss, Commander Zark, has said, 'Put on
your silver, shiny tread!
We're off to Earth for beer and snacks,
Before our ship runs out of wax! '

They fly their saucers, sleek and green,
The strangest things you've ever seen,
Right down the local highway lane,
To steal some corn and cause some pain.

They park outside in bright attire,
And watch our campfires blazing higher.
They grab some chips and watch the news,
And giggle at our point of views.

'Look at those hairless apes! ' they shout,
While throwing empty cans about.
'They build their bombs, they fight their wars,
While we just cruise between the stars! '

With belly laughs and glowing grins,
They check their pockets for some pins.
Then Zark will yell, 'The coast is clear!
Let's bounce before the cops are here! '

They zoom back to the chilly belt,
Where spacey, freezing stardust dwelt.
They leave us puzzled, dazed, and torn,
And minus half a field of corn.