At the prow, a maw appeared,
and began to tear at and consume the sea-mother
from whose vomit they had risen.
In the stern, various gods
enormous of mouth, globular, gelatinous,
wounded each other avidly.
On a blue sea beneath a pearl sky,
the angry damned carried this obscene craft on their hands,
filmed with pitch and gasoline.
Cretinous sailors with disappearing arms
composed semaphore hymns sung by trapped demons
who drowned tangled in blind flags.
The angry damned
consumed in flame!
Sea on fire!
Blood immolation!
Worlds cracking, erupting,
lava herds of the diseased damned plunging headlong
into further misery.
Miasma of sick flotillas expanding, gaseous, unwholesome
into the scaled palms
of the shrieking, angry damned
leading each other by sharp hooks through the brain
down into hard pressure depths
where transparent monsters wave phosphorescent pennants
and say, through needle teeth,
Behold, I am the sun, the light, come unto me,
and they rush in, like vermin to a corpse.
_________
with thanks to Arthur Rimbaud, Stephen Crane and Allen Ginsberg. This is either an homage or a rip-off, depending on what you think.
for Sunday Muse #167.
Blogger absolutely would NOT let me fix the spacing at the beginning. It is not meant to have the extra spaces there.