Area 51

A secret place
A hidden race
These things come
From time erased.

Into their existance
Government keeps their distance
We can’t comprehend
Our paranoid armed-resistance.

Hide the truth
From Baby Ruth
Maybe we’ll order
A non-aggression truce.

Seal the information
In a jar for deportation
Hoping nobody knows
Our alleged on-guard transformation.

Sightings are reported
Three dogs trotted
To the investigation
Alien corpses compressed and rotted.

Gravity – extra surplus
Collapsing ribs bust
Poor little E.T.
Dreams of peace now rust.

A fire lit
A war bit
Whoops (Didn’t mean to kill you), our mistake
Our proposed devastation seemed fit…

Area 51

Raechel deMink

Joined January 2008

  • Artist
    Notes

Artist's Description

I am a definate believer in extra-terrestrial life, and this is just one of my pro-alien works.

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