Welcome to the birthplace of the fliesdead Seagulls stink,left there by the tidesevery form of human waste basks upon this shoregentle rivers of green poison,seep like open sores…A thousand old condoms,filled with cold,dead spermsburnt out motorbikes and driftwood have found their final homesOld disguarded underwear tangled in the reedsthe graveyard of every scrap of paper,a headless Eel…Here is written the history and present of manalos the future stares,fish-eyed on the sandand high above,the traffic crosses the River Orwelloblivious of this dirty,reaking hell…The remnants of a fire,a solitary wheela maggot ridden something,a Jellyfish,semi-congealedA single shoe,splattered with muda sanitary towel,the footprints of a Dog…A beach of abandoment,a wasteland of human grimea museum to the mass age,an all too common finddead memories,forgotten once important thingsa slaughterhouse of grim proportionsfootprints of its tramps and kings.Published in Eastern Anthology as Orwells 1994

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