EVEN THE SACRED SEA IS SCARED . AN ANAGRAM OF MODERN MORES

BY of late walking the walk to the briny, feeling good ,lokin alive,ponderin the past by ways of figurin the future , the thin veil lifted, the other world on the doorstep of the mind.And it's been grand ,a full moon to guide me in the way of the light. A poachers moon to be precise (and me with a flock o valuable Haggi!)Anyway nothin comin fer me through the trees coz I can see them from the wood in this lunar light.And the briny, when I reach it , is calm, gentle ,benign ,a mild lippty-lapping of the rocks the sole manifestation of it's might and I'm gazing straight ahead ,a pathway o silvery gold caresses the black pond from mooon to me and back again.No matter how I move ,all shimmering paths feck Rome and guide all to me.The Silvery spoon (Moon) in front, the Plough to the left of me ,Bull to the right of me (Fire , Fire , Fire!) and from his hoof back 120 degrees to Jupiter burnin bright as mini-moon-me. So it means everything -and nuttin.Days or nightys later I cant see dat in front o me face(holdin finger 6 inchos in front o visage) walkin de same route and I'm thinkin O me father, nineteen summers old ,brave as fuck, walkin the fields o North-West Tipp to visit neighbours apres midnite and him keepin cool company wit da Banshee and she keepin comany wit him ,no malice aforethought, not a bother to either. Then I'm feelin sumptin followin me ,then i reach da sea and she is ahollerin,roarin ,wailin , coughin her lungs up onto da beach terrified ,methinks, o da dark.And I can't see her ,tis pitch ,but i still have dat feelin, I'm thinkin of all the ghost stories told by the auld fellas round Aunt mary's turf fire, I'm thinkin of how I loved listenin to them -till I needed a piss and had to head out into the black-alone and not so brave. I'm thinkin too ,years later, o the noise the cows made in the fields on the walk back from *******'s bar.I'm thinkin all these things , then I sees a too-tall fella with a top hat blockin me path and I'm startin to panic and he doesn't just go -worse than that -much worse ,he dissappears! And I'm not walkin now ,I'm feckin runnin ! I know every bramble, every dog turd and yet see everythin in the nuttin . Molly, me devoted dog, is strugglin to keep up and Im for once wishing it wasthecrazeebigballedif it movesbiteitBosco wit me,the old heart iz poundin, da lungs collapsin, then I reach the safety o sodium glow. There's a passer-by , and I says a too cheeryrelievedhello and dey hurry off and I'm on da home stretch but I'm still lookin over da shuloder fer fear o da too-tall dude in da top hat and then.............