POETRY - PHILOSOPHY


The Polis Beach Stalker

The Polis beach stalker, direct and intent he parades the seashore,
Spotting his prey lying on the beach, naked breasts browning in the sun.
Then intently he strides in her direction, pausing to squat in the shadow
Obliquely, a few yards upwind, feasting on that unattainable desire.

Intuitively she rises, turns over and destroys his pleasure and pain,
He rises and proceeds on his way, searching for the next victim,
Which he can never enjoy; in tortuous agony he pitifully seeks,
The sight of what he can never have, his desire growing, driving him forth.

As regular as clockwork, he arrives three times daily from his duties,
To fulfill his role, as a man beast amongst the tourist prey.
But yet unaware, that his time has passed, in the winter of his days,
When enjoyment from blossoming wisdom, is the name of the game.

Women despise him, but I feel pity for his pain,
The wasted time, an isolation in pursuit of an illusion.
For with blind selfish desire, this torture could be mine,
A fool on the shore, despised and alone.