Rose Tyler, Bad Wolf, blonde bombshell.
Through time with the Doctor she did propel.
She loved the Doctor and he loved her too.
If it's my last chance to say it,
Rose Tyler, I--

Jack Harkness, the flirt, the man of men.
He pops up at the Doctor now and again.
They met with a lie,
Now he can't die
Forever here now and then.

Martha Jones, the doctor, the woman that heals.
Her time in the TARDIS caused all kinds of feels.
She pointed a gun to save the Doctor's skin
Yet in the end, her and Mickey did win.
All kinds of fun and all kinds of sass.
Martha Jones, one badass.

Donna Noble, ah, how does one describe thee?
Married a creeper and set the Oods free.
Through the Daleks and Rose, it seemed to end the world
Until the Doctor's DNA and her's accidentally swirled.
Of all the companions, she was a supreme member
Most important woman in the universe,
Too bad she won't remember.

Of all the companions, no one remembers Ms. Astrid Peth.
Her one and only appearance ended in death.
She stowed away on the flying Titanic
With passengers, aliens, and angels that were satanic.
Astrid wanted to travel and see the stars.
Her death seemed to add to the Doctor's scars.
He wasn't able to bring her back in the flesh
For the Doctor was the cause of her final, last breath.

Finally we come to little Amelia Pond.
Waited twelve years for the Doctor's bond.
She sat on her suitcase, face raised to the stars
Thinking of Jupiter, Saturn, and Mars.
He came back when she was supposed to marry Rory
But she still snogged the Doctor, being predatory.
It was Amy and Rory Pond in the ends
Even when the stone angels did descend.
Some mainstream Whovians say Ms. Pond's overrated,
But after all, she was the girl who waited.

Melody Pond, also known as River Song
She was fair, cunning, and strong.
Amy's daughter, but looked years older.
Amy wouldn't believe her no matter what River told her.
River Song, a time lord herself.
But even her story went to the shelf.
She was put in jail for killing a good man.
But even then, with the Doctor she ran.
The Doctor and River, hands fastened tight.
She still didn't want to let go with all of her might.
Dr. Song and the Doctor were on different tracks in time.
Hopefully, she'll be back, witty, fierce, and sublime.

The mystery. All the loose ends come to Clara Oswald.
The latest companion to be installed.
She once was a woman, mind in a machine
But now she's in the flesh, cruising the scene.
Oswin Oswald was a governess and a barmaid
Until she came back, unashamed to be afraid.
Even though she is a mystery to be solved,
Here's to our angst, Ms. Oswin Oswald.

But one day all the companions will be gone
And the Doctor will be alone again.
He will think of all the lives he's withdrawn
Hoping for a lifelong friend.
Though his intelligence, sexiness, and brilliant mind
There are no other like him, he's the last of his kind.
The man who travels around kissing strangers;
The impossible doctor meeting some painters.
Many wonder how long he can cheat the clocks
But until then, he's just a madman with a box.

my doppelgänger threatens victory to the death
squinting - first closing one than the other eye
sizes me up raising palm courtesy handbreadth
analogous to being sited within the crosshairs
patiently taking his time to be ready...aim...fire
forever to be consigned to obliviousness lethe
resultant targeted phosphatidylethanol (peth)
sands of time punishment will be meted out
(for being a stool pigeon) the month of Tebeth
scotching the sinister plans of Donald Koons,
the tenth month of the Hebrew sacred year and
fourth of the secular year, a winter month
typically falling in December–January
named from Akkadian term,
possibly meaning "muddy" or "sinking."

Months on end nonstop virtual pummeling occurs
cohort of fraudulent bank ***** faux cooing purrs
address me videlicet feigned politesse able, eager
ready and willing to stab me in the back fear stirs
hence cogs and wheels within mine noggin whirs.

I felt, heard, smelled, tasted
and touch palpable danger
men with silky voices
demand obeisance schemes
to fuel their shenanigans
figuratively ringing neck
of yours truly averse
to reply to their threatening
emails modus operandi
to sustain house of cards
harking back approaching
twenty eight months
late June two thousand
and twenty three Harvey
Specter, one of many
an alias he did bandy about
and the writer of these words
fell prey to the scam,
whereat I blindly
as if transfixed like some zombie
followed commands as if the devil spoke
with cell phone in hand asked
me to request bank colleagues,
whose names he claimed to know
(though yours truly
never put said claim
to the electric kool-aid acid test),
but mutely followed commands
as if the voice on the other end
of the conversation
held a gun to me head
much to the dismay
and aghast pallor exhibited
by woman moneychanger,
whose her ghastly countenance
etched upon mine consciousness,
and absolute zero sense and sensibility,
neither with pride nor prejudice
stopped me dead in my tracks
for blithely not turning
a third eye blind
against utter balderdash
which wads of cold cash
got converted into cryptocurrency
at an nearby MP service station
particularly bit coin,
which oblivious ignorance
that not one red cent could be retrieved
after ***** deed done dirt cheap,
which felt like being thunderstruck
after realizing yours truly
felt under a witch's spell,
taking me on a fiasco,
where highway to hell
ranked as pleasant alternative.

The archenemy lurked within these lovely bones
inextricably bound infested re: bewitching crones
agonized, canonized, harmonized, revolutionized
synchronized, weaponized self destructing drones
wishing for immediate cessation only lifelessness
in-sync accompanying contra dance music hones
listening faintly spirit of mother plaintively intones
reincarnated as storied born Mary Harris in Ireland
in 1837 dedicated her life to fighting Mother Jones
for workers' rights and protesting child labor nones
of the nonestablishmentarian intoxicating O-zones
impossible mission day of reckoning only delays
thee inevitable distraction temporarily postpones

forsaking meager finances of mine,
where shaman analogous
to a dervish that doth whir
there Citizen Bank poseur
repeatedly iterates, where I feign being demure,
he testily, saucily, icily, haughtily, *******
"Notify when you are done
so the payment can be made"
like a numbskull,
I never regain consciousness
while being submerged
all the while within lethe sin learned
into the mythical river of forgetfulness
in the Greek underworld (Hades),
from which the souls of the dead
drank to forget their past lives
losing tenuous hold on life
and from within self
consigning myself to lost cause
personification of cannibal sizes me up
raising palm courtesy
he scrutinizing as if...yes
yours truly analogous to a criminal
essentially condemned to death row
life without parole.

Nobody but me to blame
self abomination succumbing to capitulation,
analogous taking binky from a baby
damnation, emasculation, fraternization
against Goliath nightmare capitulation,
victimization against evil twin
I dejectedly exclaim
chastising myself for
overlooking figurative red flags
and blinding warning lights
versus disregarding
utter financial ruination,
and seriously loathing self
getting nest egg felled splattering
"Fabergé" contents of (albeit thin)
instantaneously shredded cushion
dispersed to the four winds
pocketed courtesy
happy as a clam fraud perpetrators,
vestige of some
tens of thousands of dollars forever strewn
helter skelter analogous to Humpty Dumpty
forcing me to start from scratch
though quite tempting
to burrow down the rabbit hole hatch
impossible mission to escape self
and staunch profuse hemorrhaging patch.