White Poetry and Blah, Blah, Blah!

An Oratory of “The Cruel Sea” by Rose Lind – by meaning I am doing it, not bi-sexual, or bi-polar!

Uh hum - microphone screeches and audience winces

“The Cruel Sea”

The Cruel Sea said, “It did not happen”
The Cruel Sea exclaimed, “You made it up”
The Cruel Sea said, “You deluded it”
The Cruel Sea in a teacup is so very strange, like off-key flute hooting on top of a small ship in the middle of the night.
Sailors are so strange and beauty of the sea
Bare breasts
Sing the swan song.

Oh the nite,
The nite of the Cruel Sea is upon you.

Australia-
Beautiful child of White,
linger silent!
Remain happy!
Stirring in your womb,
Of thoughts!
Of thoughts!
Of thoughts!
Of thoughts!
The orgasm,
Effects the dark, equinox quickening of God.
Open to birth,
Open your legs in procreation-
The Whore screams in pure and indulgent insanity!

Ahh,, dear soul,
the blood of White Ancestors
Shifts,
Tick-tock,
Tick-tock,
Tick-tock!

Dear Cruel Sea,
I yell,
I bet,
“The dead and important Jew,
Finds St Peters gates closed!”
She expresses amusement,
And one eye opens!

That Cruel Seas eye opened to me!
She said,
“I am one and many, all seas join in harmony!”

Cruel Sea, Cruel Sea, I shriek forlorn.
Cruel Sea!
Death!
Death!
Death, next to water!

And then before me a black bird from Heaven’s gate did ignite my passion-
To paint a fair picture of a woman straddled and face stabbed in anger!

Cruel Sea, Cruel Sea,
“What is this?”
And she smiles as she holds her bloodied child within her arms-
She says, “This is White Australia”
This is my lover
And each man in his grave might have regrets,
His sorrow is the wind,
Who beats upon the leaky ship,
The insanity of nations
Fleeing from a myth.

I watch our sea
Upon the grid,
And there she is peaceful with babe in Arms
And I realise this is the meaning of Christmas.

God, sends his son-
The beautiful Australian Sun!
Ohhh, the beautiful,
The beautiful,
Australian Sun!
The harsh black sun,
Beats upon the the Southern sky,
As dark, white horse,
Bleeds heavy clouds
And coins rust in the earth!

Oh, St Peter,
St Peter,
Bless this man who indulged himself!
Oh wear a hat to cover my head!

The bird of death swoops the gate
And walk through in front of him.

Blessed are the poor for they shall inherit the earth.
Blessed are the humble, for they shall know God.
And their the female God wraps her dark wings around me
And stands at the door of my home
And I paint her,
I paint her- beautiful Lilith- thou are God!