A bright white shade of grey
Fills the sky, with waves
Black and foaming at the mouth,
Nipping at the skin;
retreating and regrouping
over and again.
Pebble banks edge out;
Spat from the mouths, of dogs
Defending the deep black,
Secrets dormant beyond its
Burning watery gates, bubbling,
Frothing and foaming, As steam
Clouds hide the horizon
And blot out the sun glowing
Dim, fearful and pale, cowering
Behind clouds in the distance.
The crows sit on the beach, like boys
Outside bookmakers, waiting on a beating
From contemptuous fathers.
Driftwood coffins permeate, the pebbles
Stones and sand; inadequatly numbered
For all this dead scene holds:
Just pieces of shit on a dump.
I sit in disgust; waiting
For something to move, a murder,
Beauty, in serpents dislocated jaws
To slide inside.
Not a sound, nor whisper
As I open my eyes to the sun, breaking
Forth from clouds, spewing bile
Yellow, melting away solid blocks
Of grave, bitter and hateful words
That hang on ears in gusts,
Like harpoons and spears, to the skulls
Of seals, on broken glass beaches
Now arid and soft; feet lying in troughs
Of velvet, waiting on the pigs
Of men to pave over, this paradise
Empty and abandoned, the dog fighting pits
Sit desolate and still, as blood
Stained earth attaches screams, and yelps
Inside the ancient amphitheatre,
Whose ruins, now this bay.