The sea is a creeping spider
Slipping smoothly over wind-scoured shores
Each leg rises, falls and moors
Eight eyes sweep the flying sand
As she comes in closer to our vicious hand
And in a flash flood, she bites
Blanketing the land for forty nights
Sparking the rise of a new kind of brainwashing
Hurrah for our Lord, our Master, our King
Loving not the solid but the ethereal mystique
Taking care of the dream, not the sullied and meek
The sea is abandoned...
We take all we can,
and close the lid.
And the sea
Tattered, abused
Is strong in its fragility.
I quite like this one, even though it's a bit mediocre and abruptly ended, like the previous.
No comments:
Post a Comment