Purple Kong Poem by GRANT FRASER

Purple kong
was gone
when I
went back
down there,

but 4 kids
were there
at a distance,
in grey school
uniform,

smashing
down big green stones
on the
bloated body
of a huge dead
seal,
washed ashore...

it had turned
hot dog brown
now,
with the Sun,

different sizes
of sticks
were sticking
out of dissimilar bits
and holes

and the kids had ran off,
when I got there

and started shouting,
from the road above
up yonder,

'hey mister there's
a dead seal ore-er..'

I know - I shouted,

and after more than
2 weeks, it had rotted
so bad,
the stench was awful,

but the sun was going
to show soon - maybe,

and purple Kong
was gone, already,
gobbled up
by the ocean lash,

had never came across
anything quite like
that before...

as I meandered
past all kinds
of flotsam,
thinking about
everything and more,
like implosions
of desire,
and what makes us go,

what was it Byron
said again:

'pleasure's a Sin,
but sin's a pleasure! ',

yeah...

and the ocean throws
back so much of what
we are,
makes strange long
necklaces
along our shores,

then before my eyes,
everything takes
on a feint hue
of yellow,

so I fixed my
attentions now
to this
old buckled
railing,
and steadied my camera
with both hands,

so shadowesque,

then several photos later,
but they were not
what I was after,
until the sun started
ducking again,

and I kept walking,
thinking,
sinking
deeper
into the
objective
and subjective,

and the ocean
smelt of infinite
death & sex,

all construed
and melted
into one....