Iceland “hard to Port”

Hard to port
A sea of blue
Of slate
A silent
On view
Of towing back
graceful sleek
Dead whales
Lost to the world
One of the fails

At their peek
Yet out of time
For the whalers
Know that in neptunes slime
Exists a mind
Both ugly and dark
That has this season
Made its mark

Creation exists
In the spirit and soul
What is hard to see
That Some control
Venomous creatures
Wildly free
To exert their
Vile pugnacity

Warped of senses
Feeling they
Have the right to kill
On their given day
Its a trap a sham
A deceitful lie
When they cock the harpoon
And watch it fly

Mendacious thought
Following in father footsteps
Matters thats a fathers right
To hear the explosion
That rocks the night

And who is that traitor
From kingdom come
far away
In the whalers slum
The masquerador
The ungrounded one
Who does his deeds
And they have undone

The veracity
And exactitude
Of a perfect soul’s
Sweet solitude
Hard to port
Hard to see
The sleek the lithe
That once swam free

Their self-awareness
Their responsiveness
Such animation
The good eyes bless
The bad eyes blinded
Lost in a world
Where explosive grenades
Are often hurled

Not an enemy
Bold at flight
But at angels
Who romp in the sea at night

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