Good morning out there. This is Paranoid Alien Radio, broadcasting on 1519 killing hurts. We’re just here to warn you that if you aren’t paranoid, you simply aren’t facing reality.
This is Paranoid Alien Radio, letting you know that the aliens have already landed. Hey you, with your shining new car – you who know everything there is to know about the stock market, but who have lost touch with the cycles of the seasons. Can you prove that you are not an alien yourself?
Hello, Paranoid Alien Radio. My name is Prince Ranito. I was the Frog King who lost his fine tail. I’m just calling in to invite you to the big party the Aliens are going to be hosting in the World Trade Center of New York, in September of the year 2001.
This is the legendary Frog Prince, who used to be able to boast of the world’s finest tail, telling you about a few details that Edgar Casey left out, in his surreal effort to resurrect both the medicine and the mythology of the dispossessed Cherokees. Edgar Cayce was able to show us, that the tail of Plato’s Atlantis would fit nicely on the Bear who went ice fishing.
--> This is Paranoid Alien Radio, letting you know that the aliens have already landed. Hey you, with your shining new car – you who know everything there is to know about the stock market, but who have lost touch with the cycles of the seasons. Can you prove that you are not an alien yourself?
Hello, Paranoid Alien Radio. My name is Prince Ranito. I was the Frog King who lost his fine tail. I’m just calling in to invite you to the big party the Aliens are going to be hosting in the World Trade Center of New York, in September of the year 2001.
This is the legendary Frog Prince, who used to be able to boast of the world’s finest tail, telling you about a few details that Edgar Casey left out, in his surreal effort to resurrect both the medicine and the mythology of the dispossessed Cherokees. Edgar Cayce was able to show us, that the tail of Plato’s Atlantis would fit nicely on the Bear who went ice fishing.
Forgotten now, the honeymoon days of our liberal hopes, when we were able to believe that culture could create a revolution without Marx or Jesus. Once more, the Cycle of Violence has reached the point at which Bad Gods are able to demand human sacrifice.
September 11, 2001
In the Sangre de Cristo Mountains
A Yeti stumbled out on the highway
And was roadkilled.
It was stuffed and put on display.
When carbon-14 dating has been perfected
This single specimen shall be able to tell us
The story of so many beasties whose hearts were torn out.
I would speak of the carnage on the road,
When headlights hypnotize animals,
But we also are standing in shock,
Having lost our voices.
It’s hard for us to speak with one another:
When the Yeti died, everything natural within ourselves
Died also.
Yet the momentum of outrage,
Tsunami of the 21st Century
Approaches the shore with a driving ultimatum.
This escalation of terror can only be countered
By a revolution of the spirit.
Otherwise, Stalin and the Jacobins
Shall play their Heavy Metal on the economic pyramids,
While the old Aztec Gods
Grow even fatter than before.
Here, beside my breakfast cornbread
My telephone stumbles in shock.
It is not as though it had never stuttered before:
This horrible day in September when innocence dies,
When the emerald weeps blood,
When the different floating continents
No longer fit together.
We look out from our open graves;
We are free to walk into the world,
But we know that the once-born shall flee.
These once-born are running like rabbits,
Because our vision of an exploding world
Has changed us to foxes.
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