BliNDfoLDeD aNd sTOne-CoLD
Damn-nation saturation escapes alliteration
From factory haystacks and export tankers
Scattered among a green dead cow's eyes
Only slightly askew, golden seagulls dance
Upon the iridescent oil glazed sin water - sun
Children - squealing with glee of a spendthrift
The old buzzard's tattoo bleeds profusely
Nowhere to go - nowhere to withdraw -
Not even a garbage pit filled with treasure
From rainbow-lined imperfections, rotting core
Of a once glassy ripped high society's bowels
Riding high upon the vibration - waves crest
She is, She is, She am. Rastafar-I.
Her words glitter contrast pale blue
Blindfolded and stone-cold, dropped
From top the book worm's pages - void
Sandstone sculptures, Greek goddess no more
Scrambled eggs thickened like blackened surf
- creaming against Plath's screaming ledges -
Salt flats bleeding, revolting grandfather clocks
Keeping time drizzled-on Mother Earth's watch