244 Readings

Condition Red on the Jones Plan

I am happy enough drinking

my own internal milk

and live-a-day honey. From savage bands,


architectures nest at universe’s end.

Take me to utopia


in the silo, the indomitable

conglomeration of hermits with friends.


A blink seizure in the boost reversal circuit

is a trinket in the river

soot inhibitor. Keep the dials below


the red and check the teeth

of every mandible. The walls have closed on rose


and thorns poke futurekind through.

The doings our surnames define

don’t protect against intercom gas

bombs. Can’t you hear the drums


on the continent of wild endeavor?

Some run, some go mad

some just cue


the getting-stuff-done montage.

The last president of perception denies the past

is another country where death doubles,


welcomes the valiant vigilante

decimation exercise machine.

Posted 05/11/14
This poem is part of a larger series (Bigger On The Inside) written collaboratively around and through episodes of Doctor Who with the poet JenMarie Macdonald.
Comments (0)