His pride swelled, Soaring like an eagle Kissing the sun with Its wings as the gulls Dived into the grey swells And cracking shells; Rolls of waves washing Over rusted hulks On desolate shores.
Their pretentious pangs Creaking and groaning In the wind flapping, Swaying like grieving Widows clad in black Huddling in clusters On street corners howling As their voices rise Up into the void.
That deep Impenetrable Nothingness, That stretches to The edge of eternity Past the Sea of tranquility, And the Sargasso Sea Swallowing us like ants Washed up along street drains Under thunderous rains Slapping window panes.
Oh that sky, That black eternal Womb that embraces Our world and the Small petty eruptions Of our race like ephemeral Electric storms stabbing At the turbulent ocean.
As the soft Diffusing light Scatters through The grey-black Gilded clouds; The whirling white Foaming eddies Of the surf swirling, Trapped in crags And hollowed rocks And crooked docks As the light glistened In these trapped pools Like some sad erotic dancers Waiting for the morning sun And the coffee run.
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Their pretentious pangs 