never mind the camels and the sand, just keep your heads firmly planted in the asses of those of your ilk

i live on a
drifting sandbar
nothing holds us to anything

the system is alive
responsive
as the ocean comes in
and goes out
as it has for years
the beaches
estuaries
marsh
forests and
animals
all move up land

only
stupid
fucking
tiny
little
dick less men
scurry
up then back
in trucks with
books
building like little ants
on the shifting sand
selling speculators dreams

stealing money
to buy time
or
so they hope

harvesting the ocean floor
constructing the facade of
beaches and dunes
everything moves here but us
tumbling and vanishing
the monuments
accomplishments
from our hands
into the sea

we will leave no trace
yet we try
erecting
all that we might
in hopes of
what
showing some future
archaeologist that
twenty first century man
thought he could hold back the ocean
with borrowed money
cheap cologne and
slight of mechanical hand

stupid stupid stupid
fucking humans
always busy
doing
never being
never seeing
nor observing
not learning

we will continue
playing golf
plowing the channels
and hosting the masses
with gritted teeth
we will sing and play
and drink and ogle
and congregate in
great halls and
small holes
patting our backs
and sniffing our farts
until our time is
found right for
removal

and then none other
shall follow here
until ices once again
descend
and recede

some of us will make it to cities
to sit around and
sip coffees
tell the stories of how
we escaped the great travesty
that was mans endeavor
to sub divide nature
to redraw the lines like
when redefining nations

black yaupon coffee
ilex vomitoria
under prints in
black and white
of the live oaks
the ibis
and the lush life

the was life

i should not write
when i should be
setting fires
and cutting nets

i should not hate
the apathy afforded
the cool crew on my block
but the smaller part of me
really wants to

i just hate the sea when
skirted in the show
of the affluent
while the stewards wrists
remain
manacled in metal
tethered to toil
as
saints to their service
drifting
in and out of
existence like dreams
fallen to the bottom of
the water mans
well

were i not striving
for harmony
i might wish for impunity
and the will to burn
all that surrounds
on behalf of the progress
of the natural and the
not yet


yeah i cuss
but
fuck your clique
and your fashion
and your feigned
societal empathy

stand alone for once
as your purpose
needs you now
to soar
or to lie down
forget those dreams
borne into you
as our now demands
action
worthy of some day
being record