Communicator (communicator) wrote,


A poem

Now he is in the outfield
Who sometime did me seek
With naked foot pressing
The perforated deck

Poor John is frozen, yet will he melt
He will be the first
Into the egg chamber
Poor John, poor John
The devil hath clasped thy face

What is it that thrashes in the airlock
Haunting the sandstone corridors
What stops my lips
(You cannot take from me
Anything that I will more willingly part

Where is my companion
With no face
Who wraps my bones
I know these chains
For I have forged them link by link

Who speaks for me
What virus commandeers
The crew expendable
The signal is coming from inside the building
I fight it still, I fight it
Though I am the host

We also serve
Who fail thus to transmit
Corrupt the signal
Yet we broadcast it.

  • Phew what a scorcher

    I see Gove has backed down on climate change and it's back in the curriculum again.

  • GCSE Computer Science

    My book is now for sale

  • LJ Settings

    At the moment I have set up this journal so that only friends can comment. I hate doing this, but I was just getting too much Russian spam.

  • Post a new comment


    Comments allowed for friends only

    Anonymous comments are disabled in this journal

    default userpic