Ode to Red Shirts

Space, the final frontier.
Engines at the ready.
The captain surges
forward in his seat,
clutching the leather armrests.

The dreaded red suit is donned.

Kiss your wife and life goodbye.

The crew steps onto a planet unknown
The episode draws to a close.
A life must be sacrificed; it’s for dramatic effect.

“The reds never live.”
(unless you’re Picard)
Or that’s what they say

Just a watchman and guard,
only a throw-away extra.
A sub-human with no worth.

phaser noise

Funny
I’m already dead

Authors Note: Two anniversaries in one! This is my first poem and @comedyopenmic. @Damianjayclay has infected the other TWB members and myself with the poetry poxe. This nerd has caught the infection. Especially since my friends and I have decided to finish all of Star Trek in a year. I'll be a red shirt by the end of it.

I was nominated by @alheath

I hereby nominate @neg
Evil laughs

Photo by whatculture.com