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https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eiAIo0l1F9I&ab_channel=DamianMarley-Topic

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Sand:

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The by-product of friction, 

Tide, kinesis 

And exorbitant lengths of time.

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This, was a very old beach

With very fine sand -

Translucent water, so clear

That on a moonlit night

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The tideline would seem to glow.

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The air carried salt, salinity and seaweed,

But from the estuary 

The breeze carried the sweet smells

Of fruit trees, and gardens, 

The sour tinges of palm, mahogany

And the distant, candied scent

Of sugar cane, and sugar processing:

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Paradise … for the visitor 

And prison, for its inhabitor:

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Utopia and relativity. 

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Where the beach met the road

Strobe-lights shone out -

Cannabis smoke 

Mixed with the fragrance

Of spit-roasts, and all those 

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In attendance

Drank,

Either out of celebration

Or to ease the passing of the sentence.

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Behind the erect tents - laden with condensation,

Sweet water and fallen flora - 

Can be heard the fluorescent bristling 

Of aluminum magazines,

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The clicking

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Of steel hammers, 

Slick rotations of oiled cylinders

And the smooth cycling 

Of a slide, as it spat blackened cartridges

From the mouth of an automatic chamber.

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Every party needs a patron

And this island, prison that it was,

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Only ever had the one.

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