Noah weeps
His face is the Arroyo of the desert
His hands have a stigmata
of splinters torn
from building his enormous ship.
His feet stand between the
Devil and the deep blue sea.
Charybdis and Scylla

The children of his future *****
have drowned in doctrine,
the animals he carefully chose
and placed in his craft's stalls
gone extinct.

He weeps bitter gall
and vinegar.
Hardened by hubris
his future progeny posture.
Poetry is the psalm of the
posers, the ocean
only a place of
plastic shoals.

You place the ark in a bottle.

Hold fast, ye ship of fools!
Stay your course.
You're trapped by your
own nets...

Lie in the sea you sprawl out
for others.

Your brine dungeon
awaits.


SoulSurvivor aka
Write of Passage
2022