Each and every time I see the ripples
feel the splash,
I bet 100 fry the dry ones are at sport.
Fools on stilts
their props work on me no more.
Rainbow feathers
knots on string
no longer stab me with their sting
they took my mother
father
brother
and still they try for me.
In shallow depths I listen to their talk
Of polaroids and panamas,
Rear drag and the tying of flies,
Of earthworms and maggots
breadcrumbs,
groundbait,
the right time to strike
and so on.
The spots they choose to cast their deadly threads
So fuckin predictable now.
How they they label my favourite haunts:
"Bessie's Dam!"
"The Ganders Neck!"
"That's where the boyos sit!"
Silly slivers of shit-filled knowledge.
The friends I've lost to them
Spotted tails thrash,
Swollen gills and flaking scales
paid no heed to the flap of my fins,
My mad red flag.
We speak in deep-sea mono hums
a tail thrash suffice to signal caution,
they failed to pay attention.
To speak the truth I must admit that once
I made the same mistake
plump bloodworm
could have sworn it was threadbare
two bites goodbye
a hook right through the eye.
The tension on the string
wore me out fast,
before long there I was
upon the rocks
furnace blast from the stone
somersaults in suffocation,
dead was what I thought I'd be
then string magician throws me to the sea
gills did breathe and sigh
relief the lucky and the few.
One eye blinded,
I still see.
My gills inhale
my thoughts turn to revenge
served cold
washed down with fine champagne.
Family and friends gone,
I'm ready for the fillet factory
for I know it exists
the dry ones speak of it often
Tides have turned
and now my bones are sharp and prickly
courtesy of their groundbait con.
Be it feather,
worm
or salted shrimp,
I won't resist
I'll play their game
Hook line and sinker swallowed whole
I'll be the bait
inside their bowl
their puckered lips shall savour my insides
as they slide
deep
inside
their greedy gullets,
warm and wet,
I'll be the fish they won't forget,
with backbone lodged firm in the throat
I hope it makes
the bastards choke.
Ryan Lees: Angler, dub-merchant, gentleman, scholar and a student of the word. Known to fear nothing except “the cruel sea.” Having spent a year living in South Korea he has recently returned to his native Ireland. Currently in the process of chanting down Babylon.
Copyright expired image of Joshua A Norton, the First Emperor of the United States and Protector of Mexico. For more on this character see:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Joshua_A._Norton