Towers Above the Mist
Inspired by a picture of LA towers rising out of the fog. Math is a pun on the numbers of economics but the capitalisation refers to the Math of Celtic Myth, brother of Don, a magician who could still sea and sky but could only thrive with his feet in the lap of a virgin. Must have been inconvenient but the virgin here is Gaia herself.
Towers Above the Mist
To the drum of Mammon
vertical galley crews
dip their small white oars
in lattes.
Water-cooler sirens sing
to the whip-crack of sales
their Dow-bows parting
Math’s Sargasso Seas.
The mail-boy drools
in the I.T. pools
where wage-slaves sway
in the scan-thralls of Xerox.
Peer pressure sores
false grapple smiles
tight-cut lass sheathes
tic-tic stilettos
taut hawser ties
in chain-gangways
where both the captains
and the capstans
shriek and fail.
Mist now shrouds the Main
as the towers drift on by
anchors dragging, scarring
Gaia’s blind and bleeding eye.
Like it, great metaphor Mitch.
Mike
Thanks, mike – appreciated
Incredible, every line a winner. Very, very cleverly done.
Do you remember I once wrote a poem about sailing ships and I had put something about the rope lashed to the captain when I meant capstan?
Makes me laugh even now.
WO x
Nothing like splicing the mainbrace! The bound captain was definitely a Freudian slip methinks! mitch This is morphing to a thumping song at the moment – I have been working on gfot two days solid! Howlz n Cwtchez! mitch
Wonderfully clever, the metaphor is amazing. Sue.
Hi Sue – I do love a honed down image and metaphor. Thanks for the read and encouragement – appreciated as always! Mitch
Very imaginative, Mitch, and skilfully crafted.
Thanks for the read and comment. Appreciated as ever, old friend! Mitch