The Shore Of The Sea Smelled Of Me Poem by James McLain

I cast my net into the sea,
gathering small fish to feed to the bird's
so they'd leave.

Sea cucumbers washed up by the tide I would squeeze,
washing my hand's in the iodine they released.

This is the beach that the intellectual 's were drawn
to as like me.
We each we knew, no hidden agenda's that disrupted the
peace by thing's now rigged that we knew.

As a self-taught intellectual I would listen to them
and they'd speak,
doesn't everyone want someone who Care's about them,
want to speak?

These people never knew I'd spent fifteen year's in
Florida's prison's.
My manner of speech for them was poetry's spoken word.

Dear would come, come with the rain and the end of each
day is in sight.
Do not cry as those angry bird's that cry for naught.
An empty hut stays empty as long as it does.

Running the tag on my car the police, would find out
that I had and our police, those police,
would by they be recognized as the unforgiving blue
ghosts in the gloom.