They called her Lolita
\nfrom Nabokov’s novel
\nhardly a suitable
\nname for a wild
\norca who up till that
\nmoment was part of a family
\na gentle bunch
\nall reconciled<\/p>\n
to the moment
\nthey lived side by side
\nin each moment
\ninstinctively ready
\ncreatively so
\nthe world was their oyster
\ntheir ocean their playground
\nin this vast arena
\nthey knew they could grow<\/p>\n
then it happened
\nthe vile and the nastiest forces
\nman a purveyor of evil intent
\nthats when this sweet soul
\nwas hauled from the water
\nthats when her creative juices
\nwere spent<\/p>\n
that’s when her heart was
\nbroken completely
\nthat’s when she realised
\nfreedom, no more
\ncarted off clumsily
\nto a vile circus
\nand thrown in a grave
\nof watery gore<\/p>\n
restrained by the size
\nof the walls
\nmade of concrete
\nthis place was clearly
\nnot made for her size
\nhow could she live
\nin so cramped a location
\ndidn’t those humans
\nreally realise<\/p>\n
her heart must have thumped
\nand her soul,must have weakened
\nthose people who captured her
\nmindfully poor
\nhow could they honestly
\nset out to harm her
\ntear at her being
\ncutting her, to the core<\/p>\n
but they did and they
\nclearly were in this for money
\nshe the attraction
\nto pack the crowds in
\nthis tiny arena
\nclose to the marina
\nentertainment was promised
\nand would underpin<\/p>\n
the park, that was failing
\ndearest Lolita
\nshe’d turn it all round
\nher sentence was clearly
\na lifetime of tricks
\na performer of sorts
\nas if drowned<\/p>\n
in a, human theatre
\nwhere imprisoned actors
\nare made to react
\nto the cries of the mob
\nignorant people
\ntrapped in their thinking
\nthey sacrifice good sense
\nand silently rob<\/p>\n
Peter to pay Paul
\ntheir lives are about this
\nno real understanding
\nthat spirit, that throb
\nof life in their true self
\nthey lack this, its as if
\nthey are insignificant
\nwhich makes us sob<\/p>\n
we sob with such depth
\nin the bowels of our being
\nmaking us dance to the tunes
\nof those who
\nbellow out really vile
\nsounds to the ocean
\nshocking the innocent
\nout in the blue <\/p>\n
we’re expected to leap
\nthrough a curtain of fire
\nto the roar of
\nthe dumbed down’s applause
\nand we do
\nfor a bucket of fish
\nthat are fast fermenting
\nand seemingly only
\na very small few<\/p>\n
are signing petitions
\nand writing to people
\npoetry songs the protestors
\nthey try
\nas we swim in our soup
\nmade of brine and our faeces
\nand slowly we build enough
\nstrength up to die<\/p>\n
to take that last gasp of breath
\nwoeful and sickening
\nrealize this hell hole
\nhas now become
\na place where infection
\nis rife by direction
\nI no not, I care not
\nmy body is numb<\/p>\n
Seaquarium and all those
\nfools who pay money
\nto see tortured souls
\nin the last throes of life
\nto imagine how sick we all feel
\nin our being
\neach hour that we spend
\nbuilds such pent up strife<\/p>\n
our memories of the blue sea
\nand the families
\nit haunts us, we sicken
\npickled in sin
\nlost in a small concrete tank
\nin Miami
\nwondering why this nightmare
\ndid begin <\/p>\n
and now I am old
\nI have suffered much hardship
\nsuch pain, many tears I have
\ncried day and night
\nmortally hurt by the selfish desiring
\nthey took away everything
\nfrom me, the light<\/p>\n
became darkness the hope became
\nhell, I had lost all desire
\nto be free to be mindful
\nto just be my self
\nall I did now was
\njump through their curtain
\nof fire<\/p>\n
since 1970 I have been swimming
\naround in this tank
\nin this small concrete cell
\nI see with my eyes
\nhow your world has been changing
\nonce you had heaven
\nand now you have hell<\/p>\n
the ocean was clean
\nyou have made it your dustbin
\nthe air we all breathe
\nis as black as the night
\nthe oceans are full up with
\ncrude oil and plastic
\nand whilst making money
\nyou feel you’ve done right<\/p>\n
some want to retire me
\nmy sentence a long one
\nI gave up true freedom
\nto act on your stage
\nI lived in the circus
\nmy tank of detritus
\nI’m sick and I’m tired
\nand I’m filled up with rage<\/p>\n
I am infected
\nsick to my soul
\nand now I’m required
\nto undergo antibiotics
\nmore treatment
\nmore human medicine
\npumped into me
\nI am and always have been a wild Orca
\na created spirit from out of the sea<\/p>\n
giving me your pharmaceutical nonsense
\nimbalances everything
\nthat lies within
\nmy mind and my spirit is lost
\nto the universe
\nI am though happy
\nwithin my own skin<\/p>\n
All I hope
\nis that all of the work
\nand devotion of those
\nspecial people
\nwho have spoken for me
\nwill yield
\nenough work to preserve
\nthe great oceans
\nand all who are living inside them
\nwill be<\/p>\n
creatures who live there
\nnot consigned, to tanks
\ninside natural oceans
\nnot corporate banks<\/p>\n
She came first week of August 1970 the skin on her back cracked and bleeding due to sun and wind exposure<\/p>\n
They wanted ti feed her on frozen herring she hated that and
\nWoukdnt eat it<\/p>\n
At night she cried her eyes out. Not far away was an orca called hugo he heard her and began swimming like crazy
\nHer name was TOKITae toki for short but they called her lolita something to do with Miami.<\/p>\n
Xxx
\nThis was from information supplied by an aqua maid<\/p>\n
called Pat Sykes a young lady employed to assist<\/p>\n
She sensed the sadness and tragedy LOLITA felt.<\/p>\n
Now owned by the
\n British
\nSo no hope at all
\nArle Capital seemingly
\nI am At their beck and call
\nIts all an investment
\nMy sorrow and pain
\ni will never see the ocean again<\/p>\n
Their karma those rich ones
\nWill see a downturn
\nFor actually in Hell on earth
\nThey will burn<\/p>\n
This hole in a wall
\nDead fish for each meal
\nThey are looking after me
\nThat is the steal<\/p>\n
I am unhappier now than before
\nA British investment
\nThey sleep well I am sure
\nBut for me I am so sad
\nThat humans achieve
\nThis kind of investment
\nWho would believe
\nIt <\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
Lolita the Orca we can learn from the torment we have given her Continue reading