I think you need to be a little creative here. I've been a few days at this.
Seaside Earthquake
Through my telescope on Margate pier I spy you on the shingle.
All the blood within me seethes and surges round my body's ingle,
As my heart begins to hammer and my toes begin to tingle.
You're the treasure of the Inca in Pizarro's storm-tossed galleon,
You're the scarlet Maserati with its leather-clad Italian,
You're Brunnhilde's thrusting thighs about her fire-defying stallion.
I've consulted the philosophers from Abelard to Zeno,
And they say our love is much too much, but, hellfire, what do they know
As the spark from passion's tinder box unlocks my heart's volcano?
Let the lava of my yearning start to double and redouble
As the towers begin to topple and the pools begin to bubble
And the castles turn to sand and all the promenades to rubble.
There's a phosphorescent aura on the ooze that first began it,
There's a red sun setting slowly on a desolated planet,
There's a place for us together on the darkening shores of Thanet.
|