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God of Low Tide

A poem from Brighton

Brighton by Karlo Tasler

Surrendered to the currents
Powerful and unexpected,
Strong and untameable,
I was carried in the unknown…
And deeper.
But then…
Covered with algae and anemones,
The God of the low tide emerged,
and climbed onto his throne.
He dragged the sea inwards,
Left the coast dry,
Weakened the currents.
Stuck in the sludge,
I saw sand swallowing rocks,
Wind razing cliffs,
Seagulls eating each other,
Fishermen catching plain bones.
Praying to the moon,
And its gravitational pull,
I was asking for the sea to be risen,
One last time,
For the fucker to be dethroned,
For the currents to get stronger
For me becoming free… Again…
Until the next cycle.



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Karlo Tasler

Karlo Tasler

Explaining the complexity of life and its various perspectives through the beautiful game of football. Or rather the tragic game of football, so to speak.