The tide and heavy seas
had washed up a wealth
of treasures to lay at my feet
spread out in a long line
just like the way wares
are displayed on the street
of an outdoor market.
Shells, some polished
to a sheen others just broken
shards of a puzzle never
to be put back together again.
Tresses of weed, float bladders,
a cuttlefish bone and globs
of jellyfish shaped like petrified
tears as if once welled
out of the eyes of a whale.
Then there was a hoard
of man made stuff, plastic cups
and brightly coloured beads
of who knows what, spoons
and bottle tops, matted balls
of red and green twine
and fishing line knitted into
swatches of transparent twill,
a smorgasbord of human
endeavor all laid out in wonder
and ready to kill.
Strewn with cuts and a three day growth,
His face all covered in blood,
He wears torn denim jeans, with holes in its pockets,
And an overcoat splattered in mud,
And every day he walks through the door of his life,
His brain hungover and dead,
Not caring if he kills or is killed off himself,
Not listening to the pleas that are said,
From his legs from his chest from his body inside,
The pleas screamed out from his throat,
Tired of the pain and hurt from his past,
Not listening to his little ghost,
He’s the washed up and flung out former detective,
Now a hitman roaming this land,
Killing for cash in a broken down body,
His own wreck, ravage, ruin, his own brand.
What once was such a beloved auto, shiny and new is now
A rusty sad shell of her dazzling days gone by as she
Stands so pitifully on tall grasses sprouting inside and out.
Her horn hushed permanently, almost unrecognizable with
Eyes completely blinded by vandals. She feels abandoned and
Desperate to recapture what was once such a gay life, with
United family outings...happy memories of attending
Picnics near the sunny sea shore or park, and so much more...
Now sun baked, she sizzles in the junk yard graveyard. Her
Only comfort, being surrounded by others looking worse off as she
Waits...willing to give parts of herself to help others in need.
6-15-16
Rusted and Busted
Sponsor Casarah Nance
N/A
The sand seeping through my toes
Down by the clear ocean water
I look into the vast beyond
Something catches my eye
A girl, washed up onto the shore
As I come near it seems quite *****
A tail I see? A fish no less?
Be a women she must
Afraid to touch her, but I must
As her eyes awaken
Her eyes indeed how beautiful
Blue as the sea beyond
Awestruck like no women I’ve seen
Love I feel, for women or beast?
No matter all women to me
Only one in the sea
Can I control they love for thee
She is only but a mystery
From dawn till dusk she rules the sea
King and Queen we shall be
Where the Jester lies
beaten against the cold shore,
the Queen of Hearts sings.
Did
Andy
then clean up-
with his brillo
pad
http://www.artchive.com/artchive/W/warhol/warhol_brillo_box.jpg.html