the maelstrom churns the water below the monumental rage lifts up to the brink of heaven slicing down toward the swirling black hole navigation is futile now the instruments going awry stepping outside to size up waves explode the deck near washed out to sea slapping off the feet o i don’t want to be here firing off the flares calling sos fizzle by the ocean fury helpless and seasick saline drips the sea shouldn't be here want to go home the ship pounded relentlessly breaks in pieces under me all control is gone shoulder the orange life vest at the mercy of the sea sucking me in caught in the whirlpool fragments of the ship like the carnival rotor ride zipping around in dizzying circles sticking to the inside around but also down into the water funnel maw of the earth's bowels carried on siesta side to side lowering down in faster revolutions like a giant washing machine on spin lean into the swirling vortex the smiling skipper lights going out all of a sudden i see the sweeping searchlight where i belong on the flip side 3.8 10/10 © Brian Peter Hodgkinson
The Flip Side
19
Apr