Naveed Akram (15 December 1973 / London, England)
Randomly jumping was habitable as dying,
Planets with belts of minerals confined us,
But the dangerous pilots were for ghost ships,
And these were bizarre from the heart.
Murder was down on the electronic pencil,
Uncharted asteroid belts felt their dire feelings,
But the pens of the head were against them.
It was lucky enough to venture and connive
A season of fighting, dying, lingering and such.
The risks were huge and standing under them
Was like entering a new cluster of galaxies.
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