The Lighthouse

I thought I saw it inside yesterday’s tide
Below the leaky vessels that our yellow rays guide
And inky albatross feathers take flight
Far above a trident wielding god who tethers great whites

The lighthouse stretches so high
And the fire in the top is like a lidless gold eye
Spire on a rock and a witless lowlife
With a wooden figurine that he whittles all night

I looked into the sea and saw a shimmering light
And the shadow of his famous weapon with its three spikes
Where souls of dead sailors hold their mysteries tight
And are only freed from their shackles when the king likes

Mermaid dreams, salty foam skies
Wailings of a siren but the harpies don’t cry
Bloated whale carcass and larvae grown flies
Spectre sails flown where the pirate parties won’t pry

Mesmerized by the burning wick bright
Stare at black waves infinite that turn your insides
Work there with a person that you’re sure to despise
As you murmur words of murder ’til it hurts your windpipe

Empty lobster traps and the last red drop of wine
Spoiled rations lost among the jagged rocks and brine
Talking at seagulls that clearly haven’t got the time
Slack jawed and petrified within the lantern’s haunting shine

A bloody film encrusting the entire shoreline
Dark tentacles that twist and curl inside a warped mind
A sacred fish is skewered on Poseidon’s fork tines
In the deep where drowned heroes in their final form dine