Saturday, 27 of August of 2016

Joey Racano – The Rising

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(a creation poem)

I was born in 2105
The last land animals were barely alive;
Mountain top castaways searching for food
as the last of the humans prayed to Saint Jude

The Apocalypse never had to fire a shot
With everybody scrambling to the highest spot
Birds tried nesting on the floating debris
but eventually it all turned into open sea

Survivors of the Rising floated here and there
Water beading up in their oily hair
Everything was dark, only lit from below
22772_101381796559263_100000623282491_38587_4796360_nby luminescent Jellies we would come to know

Living on flotsam used to build a raft
(lashing it together was a handy craft)

Twenty days later, the first whale came
up really close, and he was quite tame

More broke the surface, mouths full of fish
and dumped them on the rafts, like a genies wish!
Others guided coolers they had found out floating
and commandeered our rafts (what a lesson in boating!)

There were Humpbacks, Grays and the mighty Blue,
pushing us across a vast expanse of goo
There were Beaked Whales, Right Whales, all around
Humpback-Whales-Feeding-I-003Sperm whales singing with a clicking sound

A thousand miles later we heard the gulls
(I remember thinking, ‘this is how a planet culls’)

We made a solemn pact as we washed ashore-

We would hurt our brother the whale, no more

joey racano


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