underwaters
a lazy actor i forget my lines
we run through the whole thing again
the action drifting from cave to cave saved in their drives
i can’t be bothered watching the playback of flaring green sea
as i swim forever or someone swimming whos supposed to be me
another whirlpool to negotiate its vortex
another isle of monkeys and spirits and voices
as i loose myself from my bounds
angered gods hurl plagues to the ground
as i stand in the prow of my black beaked trireme
and something seems to rise from the turbulence
we only see the mens faces suddenly deprived of innocence
no one could survive it but somehow i get alive out of the bed
i see they have added some shadows to my shattered ship in sanguine red
i wept for my crew prepped to be dead
i slept at the shoreline a stone at my head
i am brought into the city under the mountain in clouds
the camera zooms in on rooms of byzantine opulently reflected
in jewelled statue eyes in moving marble
intercut with a desert i am wandering through
i must be hallucinating because of a cursed thirst
we are made to understand the sea and the desert and the sun and air
these four elements hostile to man in of themselves
i seem to plunge through the dunes and walk upon the nimbus
in double exposures over lapping stills representing memories
a child in a coloured garden painted on a pencil box
with your sisters in the afterlife glowing
the windscreen smeared with rain a memory of a coast
the sun was still young and golden then
i guess thats represented in the aura filter everything will go through
there is some incident which is unclear even to me standing here
some thing is omitted from the cut but i cant tell what
a feeling of sinking or drowning will have the sailors frowning
the witches and their tricks are here rendered horrific and sick up
is it too much that i am beaten nearly eaten only fame to sweeten the deal
as the timbers of my cabin groan i hear the mermaid moan on the rocks
as the waves enter my cabin the throbbing cracking shoals rip holes in the hulls
on island afternoon superimposed over the stars and the moon i croon the theme
the loveliest words remaining unheard of until found in an undersea city
reedy dirge of priestesses in processions in the holy fog of february
the songs of an admiral gone missing a mystery
some ideas that were around for years but still nobody ever hears them
the music banged out on skinned drums with biblical trumpets and thunder
designed to kind of fill the enemy with wonder
anchored off the tropical banks owned by the potentate reinstated
moored by the shores of some ancient old hell
the cold fires of tartarus bring a brim stoner smell
in the underworlds the girls immune to any charms these dim ghosts
and here the music is a mournful horn full of b minor asia
a violin is almost detuned as it swooned out of audible range strange erasure
i am set some task i shouldnt ask it will be undoubtedly impossibe
some angry king or presidente asking something fucking stupid and improbable
i escape as usual with the help of my patron demon or saint
at this point a painted androgynous visage appears in montage
a face full of superior angles and planes recurring again and again
why his eyes are the colour of the skies and a mortals goodbyes
tears well up like a shell up to the ear containing an ocean
we are left forever hanging in a harbour
where i seem to walk through the coolest arbour
and from a distance
everything seems to shimmer
just before
the twilight will grow gradually fragilely dimmer