I haven't written poetry in many, many years, but a random muse inspired me not too long ago to write this. I'd been thinking recently on how I feel the storm of the people is coming within the next few years, and how much unintended damage that will cause far beyond the scope of its intended targets.


Maelstrom of Madness

The sea roils
Black and blue
Waves rising in protest
Born from the wake of ships
Built like Babel
An armada for Ozymandias

Waves that curse
The immovable mountains
Upon which they crash and splinter
Waves that froth and foam,
Sputtering madly,
Raging against the hubris of invention

The storm surges,
Sights set on sinking
Ostentatious ocean liners,
Uncaring for all the rowboats
The dinghies and schooners and sloops
All of which flounder and drown
Down to the depths of Davy Jones

The heavens obscured,
Hiding their wisdom
While Wrath ravages and wracks,
Abandoning odds and ends
Alone and adrift.
A maelstrom of malice,
Bemoaning its own forgone placid flow.

The sea roils
To rectify the wrongdoings
To still the suffering
To placate the passions of
Poseidon's paternal parentage

But waves crash into each other, too
Never knowing friend from foe
Audaciously ungovernable
For a sea at storm takes no prisoners
Pulls no punches
And punishes pell-mell

Widows wail at the waves
The price for vengeance
Paid in despair,
And their tears add to the sea
And the waves start anew