The Aldermaston Marches

The Aldermaston marches.
To the Quatermass pits where dense darkness
Fills the forests of atomic mushrooms
Like isotopes of air rising from soaking laundry.

The Aldermaston marches.
Through a hail of bullets, big as tombstones
Crashing through the wind like I.C.B.M’s
Onto poppy fields where brass bands play trumpets.

The Adermaston marches.
To Bikini atolls where shark shaped convicts
Ride fairground cockpits around atomic explosions.

The Aldermaston marches.
To web infested palaces where rat faced security men
Dance in daisy chains in the fog smothered night.

The Aldermaston marches.
Into secret panels on soap boxes in speakers corners
down into private underground fallout shelters
where the disappeared sit with plasters on their mouths.

The Aldermaston marches.
Through motorway graveyards where hitchhikers bones
Rattle on rusty motorbikes as radioactive rabbits
Melt in the moonlit glow of prehistoric chaos.

The Aldermaston marches.
Where ulcer stricken scientists hang washing
from overhead pylon cables like advertisements
for brighter than white soap powders.

Author: blackbird212012

I am interested in multimedia work: songwriting, art, and creative writing. I have been involved also in theatre and music performances.

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