The Fisherman Poem by ness tillson

The dark fisherman threads his worm on his hook,
Write your name in his dark book,
Forgotten thoughts full of lies,
As the lighting flashes across dark skies.

Human thoughts and human ways,
Are the worms he uses every day,
The worms he has threaded on his hook,
Bait in the trap of his thick empty book.

The world is his pond, his sea, his ocean,
Our souls the fishes he does beckon,
Come to me and eat my flesh,
Drink my blood, breath my breath,
Eat the worm I dangle in front of your eyes,
The roasted dove I shot from the skies,
Eat the lamb, I drained of his blood,
I killed in the land before the great flood.

Eat the illusion of you and me,
Pretend you are real pretend you are free.

Human thoughts and human ways,
The bait in the trap we eat every day.

The fishing is good,
The fish are a plenty,
His basket is full,
The oceans are empty.

Everyone has eaten his fill,
The blood is still flowing, up the hill.
The joyful sounds of songs and laughter,
Echo through time and forever after.

We have swallowed the worm, the hook and the line,
We wriggle and squirm, till the end of time.
The trap closed tight around our souls,
Our thoughts and destiny in circles unfold.

Tangled us up in perpetual motion,
The bottle with no message, is adrift on the ocean.

Nothing left of you nor me,
No more fishes left in the sea.
We have fished all the fishes,
Till the end of time,
Till the end of space,
Till the end of the line.

I have eaten the tail,
Of my neighbours who eat me,
Have cut up the wood,
Burnt down the very last tree.

We have forgotten the words of the song we once sang,
Forgotten the place where hope once began,
Forgotten your name, forgotten the taste,
Forgotten the road back to the place
Of my mothers breast, her soft sweet song,
The warmth of her heart where we once belonged.

Buy now pay later,
Is what he says,
The later the better,
Another day.

Your debts become the chains of your prison,
The day blocked out,
By the walls of illusion.

He has us now,
With his juicy worms
Red and bloody
On his hook do squirm.

The hook hooked down
Deep in our hearts,
Till kingdom comes,
Till death do us part.

Spit it out you stupid fish!
Before he cooks you in his dish!
Before he tells you, you are mine!
Before he abandons you in the labyrinth of time.

Spit it out say no more!
Before he nails you to the floor,
Before even the squirming worm be still,
Before you die again,
Up on your lonely hill.