The beautiful scallops
The shells we know
That live their lives
In the sea below
One part coral
One part white
But disregarded and out of sight
Of the would be fishermen
The so called cooks
The wide consumers
The great cook books
Everyone wants them
They are on TV
Scallops for breakfast
Scallops for tea
And where do they come from
Nobody cares
Down on the sea bed
Saying their prayers
For the fisherman hordes
They draw their swords
French and britsh
Smoke bombs to the fore
They argue the toss
And go to war
But few are aware
Of down below
where their bloody dredgers go
A whole new world
Of living souls
Creative beings
With special roles
Lots of young fish
Will be big one day
But not if the fisherman
Get their way
Dredge up everything
Kill it all
Creativity
Too much to call
Murder and mayhem
Down below
Where life goes on
But they dont know
Its called the sea bottom
Or the bed
Alive with creatures
And then all dead
And why is this
Creativity
Miraculous life
Why cant it be?
Cos We want scallops
For our tea
Fuck everything else
What they cant see
They won’t care about anymore
They don’t know about natural law
Nobody cares not any more
If your not in the limelight
Not on the shore
Not in the papers
Or on facebook
Nobody gets THAT second look.