The Voice of the Sea


The Voice of the Sea


“The voice of the sea is seductive; never ceasing, whispering, clamoring, murmuring, inviting the soul to wander for a spell in abysses of solitude; to lose itself in mazes of inward contemplation. The voice of the sea speaks to the soul. The touch of the sea is sensuous, enfolding the body in its soft, close embrace.”


Sound the alarms!

Clear the deck,

And make way for the storms.

Rise up, you sour

Rise up, you sore

From the splintered wood deck—

A storm is coming!

Then one to follow

And the mast is quite hollow,

So take hand in hand;

Swim to the sands

Where dust blows with leaves

And heaves o’er the land.


But soft, where the seas creep

In ripples of rot:

The men on the ship decks,

A stumbling lot.


Yet I care for them all!

The rats and the flies,

The sails and the sides,

The Poets; the Peasants.


So do I, then, with my friends and my sights

And my books and my lights

And my uncooked meals and reels;

Do I, now, under the half-lit moon,

Dare to question the face of the ocean?


And then, to what noble has set us a’sail,

I tell you, with a small breath of peace in my smile:

The sun is bright,

The moon is strong,

But no force of skies

Can shift the tides

When Seirenes call



Techno friend

Always right

Techno stars

Echo light

Every star

Is the same

In this Sea

Of endless rain



Give the birds a final chance

To reach up to the sky and dance;

But when they fall,

The Kings shall sing

That all have sunk

to brainwashing



The royalty, in his coat of ten colors

And the grey electric of his skin

Dips his pen into the ink:


“is it possible” says the prince,

“to row and go where no man knows?”

Says the captain: “Aye! But

Don’t you know that all would die?

All would die; none would fly!

All would surely drown and die!”


Sea-shanties roar, echoed by the floor;

Cries sent out in bottles to locate something near

Consider it joy, then, my fellow seamen,

When the captain makes orders ensuing the end

The world has unfurled with an audience of four—

Four corners, four waters—

But do not inquire about their device;

Settle on wisdom

 not on ice



Do you not remember?

The Day of Ruination.

And some reckonings.

Some restless farewells

Some cracking of shells


Upon the greening

Of the scene:

An awakening.

At which time you slept

And lay down and wept.


The piles of perfect wood

Men in their thick hoods


And the scents sent by maids

Subtle sentences; barricades;

The blending of the backdrop.


Sweet Atlantic, flow softly til I find home


The sun’s time was ticking

The dock’s gates were clicking

The family was sobbing –

What is a man to do,

At an hour such as this one?




The waters make us one:

Equal, but sinking;

Stable, but drowning.

But lands give us home:

Parlous, yet bounding;

Scarring, yet sounding;

For what is there among the waters

that can redirect what’s been risen in a soul,

or what seed has rooted in a mind?


Aye, but still, there is nothing here

And nothing there, no—

No plant, nor fruit, nor sycamore tree

Nor bird of flight, nor flower of sight –

That will silence the black, bursting thunder of waves

crashing below.



By eagle’s way, seeds disperse

Over the four eyes of the earth

Blown on by the winds of Anemoi

To be born into conscience as a fruit for a neighbor

As a salt for the seas

As a rain for the wasteland.

ripple ripple



Sweet Atlantic, flow softly til I find home



Won’t you please recall?

How quickly trees can fall

Like dust escapes the saw?

The bitter birds caw-caw

Their homes proceed to rot.

The oceans like a clot

Swell up now (as they’re taught)

And open up arms

To birds they once had harmed.

Can you not hear their charm?

Listen closely.

Can’t you hear their sweet, sweet charm?

ripple ripple

ripple ripple




Reach to the skies, yes, my friend,

Stretch out your hands and try!

The sky holds the ocean

But the ocean holds waste –

Of human and fish and mem’ries erased

All that it knows and all that it sees

Will never amount to break this disease


All the water you need is the rain, child

All that you need is the rain.

Flowing in waves of mindless decryptions:

Your death, your fall from the Main.



Have I become your enemy

By speaking of the truth?

The crashing waves will wound you deep

And rippling bates forever creep:


Now come off your ship

my friends

Come off the deck with graceful step.

Come off now and sing to the Sun:


Shantih Shantih

hail mary,

       full of grace.

the end of suffering.


our lungs are full of seaweed wroth

our brains are drowned and out of taste

we lower down when serienes call

unto another empty face

This poem is about: 
My family
My community
My country
Our world


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