The Mermaid

[Georges]

This poem is dedicated to Federico Garcia Lorca

A beautiful girl on the rocks of the sea's mesh
the moon pearling off her white, naked, virgin flesh
guitar like, it strummed a gentle, unearthly song
it was difficult here to imagine right from wrong

Above the cliffs like balustrades of God's justice and hope
the white, unicorn horse appeared and spread it's Gothic wings
a silhouette and a canopy against the dreamy, speckled stars that did sing
as it plunged into the foamy sea of blood red colours, under the slope

Deep below the acid sea and a dark brood depth of despair
into the caverns and the rocks, hidden deep under there
a Mona Lisa smile, a mirror, a knowledge, and an enigmatic stare
as the mermaid brushed her tattered and salty, unkempt hair

And she dreamt of the olive trees, the scent of oranges and the feel of soft silk
the deep wells and the drowned and sexually confused youths of hope
who lost their ideals of hope and normality and could not cope
brought tight into her ample white bosoms of motherly, hot milk

And she dreamt of the troubled and strife vineyards of the civil war in Spain
In 36, down a desolate, hidden and leafy lovers lane
to an isolated ploughed field, of lost buried souls, under the ground beneath the rain
and the moon was gorged crying and was very, very vain

A sharp rifle crack and a poet's face etched with blinding pain
his life blood and hopes, pouring into the furrowed sores of a split nation from his veins
the people's poet, who gave hope and inspiration for the peasant masses
buried, forgotten and entwined in death's decomposing ashes

No more hope or poetic beauty for the divided Spanish people
just the anchoring of the stoic, unbending, religious catholic church steeple
And the mermaid's lower, green body scales, shimmered and shone in the primeval moonlight night
She cried for justice, she cried for man's plight

Then the winged, white, pale horse, with no visible rider
managed to clamber on the rock next beside her
when suddenly a Leviathan of the deep surged upwards from the troughs of the waves
kissed the moonlight and counted the number of the forgotten graves

If knowledge is to remain dormant in the blood of the deep caves?
then justice is vanquished and hope will never be saved
as the mermaid left the winged horse on it's perilous, wave, battered rock
tossed and threw it a piece of her cut, shorn, tattered, mermaid's lock

Across the dimensions of known time and understanding of deep space
lay the look of astonishment of the poet's handsome and boyish face
as she jumped into the wild, mysterious sea, for infinity, to be free
For eternity and ended up captured in a canvas by the painter, Salvador Dali