Naveed Akram (15 December 1973 / London, England)
Colossal cabins were missing from the vibrating mass,
An operations deck was toggled with dressing,
The hurried work seemed sufficient, and all-powerful.
Martin left his cabin and ran down the corridor with spirits,
Hurrying for the sake of pleasure, of existing,
Liking the military-grade engines for the whole of it.
Many worried him as stationary casualties
And observers who saw some minor failures.
With a sickening blare, the trumpets and drums
Burst to life from a secret dirt and a secret work
Of such deeds and superhuman acts.
The cabins from expert systems looked like boxes
Of light, and he hurried to them,
Martin started toggling the humane desk with vigour,
And the vibrating stopped suddenly with surpassing
Speed. One wanted a dead servant of dark limits.
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