Beneath the Seas Surf Face
Below The Seas Surf Face. ( inspired by ? )
Gone are the fishers, pulling Luggs;
the Gull its gizzard rusty hooked,
and barbed, limit its Limpit supply..
blown sand creeps, Crabs below do not sleep;
they scuttle to pincer cuttle fish inside-out:
Above lurks a leaden sky, pressing heavy,
on a miraged horizon line, distantly trapped ;
sunk, in long lost rigging, and old tangled nets,
which are buoyant on the flotsam and jetsam,
now weeded in a sea weed bed; stalked by Congers,
and the tide rattled bleached brittle bones, of the
well anchored smugglers; who had got it wrong !
Unsaved,by waded oilskin clothed, Priest’s feet,
pale to the thighs. He baptises the sinning smiles;
sitting deep in the sewerage bound,methane drowned:
Smuggler’s long shipwrecked in the ale house of sin!
Plying their trade in a tirade of coin and jewelled need.
Long gone, are the Fishers families; now they are food,
for long stretched Luggs, bubbled below.
Copyright ©
John Lusardi
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