Rigged For Bedlam…
(Inspired by Sue Nichol’s spectacular painting of the North Yorkshire coast and a rig for servicing wind turbines in a ferocious storm…)
The North Sea gore disrupts and discolours itself into a cacophony
Of churning, thrusting, bloody evil, its surface giddy with wrath,
Its irritation unshackled, its ignorance inimitable.
The ocean induces a rowdy, wretched, psychotic symphony
In its wake, hurling itself at itself and tearing at all in its path,
Vile, tumultuous, yet strangely enthralling and engagingly incorrigible…
The tall, white and spindly wind turbines, thus engulfed and weathered,
Are now barely visible through the monstrous misty, turmoil,
Whilst the eyesore service rig has become a pallid spectre, tethered,
Misted and rendered insignificant, by the incessant, insufferable spoil…
Pete Ray…
10th December 2025…
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