by Gideon Burton
The aliens descend with shrieking glee,
their saucers spinning hot with dire intent.
Their ray guns slice down people, buildings, trees;
no end of cosmic anger yet to vent.
Artillery is useless, as are bombs--
one might as well dry oceans with a sponge!
The siren screech of fire-fight is their song,
while those too close suck death into their lungs.
Bacteria, our microscopic friend,
you must arrest the Martians in their plunder.
The earth is ravished, we behold its end,
unless your subtle poisons do their wonder.
The sky's alive with Armageddon's smell.
Dark creatures, may you crumble into hell!
Feel free to copy, imitate, remix, or redistribute this poem as long as you give proper acknowledgment of authorship. Photo: flickr - kevkerkev