Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Aa Harvey Dec 2018

Upon this death I see before me,
Four stood soldiers waiting patiently.
Beneath my feet I guess there could be,
An empty space of contemplation.
I built this place for only my eyes to see.
I come here occasionally when I need a vacation.

I am bound to watch the day pass.
I plead ignorance with such sincerity.
Because I stole a broach, apparently, in the past,
I am tied to the mast, by the quarter mast.
Nobody believes in me and as the sun burns my eyes,
I cannot close them for they hold no water inside.
The lid upon my soul is dry,
But I am yet to truly sink into the depths of my subconscious.
I can still hear them talking all their meaningless phrases,
Sounding like a thousand drunken babies,
As I honorably sink deeper into the abyss.

Communication breakdown, silence of the ages,
And all is but a single drop in the ocean; gone are all the praises.
This life of mine hangs in the balance and from the rafters.
I would not jest simply for the amusement of laughter.
With a face of iron, I am all done a-lying.
Stoically I still proclaim to tell the truth from upon high,
For soon I will be dying.

And then I spot the villainous rake,
And all of his duplicitous, surreptitious plots,
That wrap around their feeble minds,
Like the coil of a snake’s tail; their will is soon gone.
So they follow him into the darkness so blind;
Tongue tastes like dust from the burning sunshine.
It intoxicates all the other ship mates into seeing guilty.
Through all their mistakes they have misjudged me.

I am not, nor have I ever been, an infallible being,
But I was never ever seen to steal anything.
I never truly took, because I never truly looked, deep into the chest.
They ripped out my heart in search of plunder through contempt.
Now I stand here lost and all alone;
Shattered through not only a lack of food, but my lost home,
Has been taken from me, by those who would lie.
Why try to enlighten those who will not hear my side?

If I ever speak of this tale again,
Then you should know, I know your face, for it caused me this pain,
And on the day when we come to rest upon the shore,
Or even if we sink, slowly to the ocean floor;
I will remember all you took from me and I will rise with rage.

My silver piece, my one of eight,
They stole it from me and tossed it into the silver plate.
The trust of my shipmates broken this day,
When the end truly comes I will rise again.
I will point a solitary finger in only your direction,
And you will have to look away to hide your guilty expression;
But I never mentioned, just left them guessing.
We are all dead men walking, this death is a blessing.

(C)2018 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.
Temporal Fugue Dec 2018
A day for the books
a Christmas gone by
one more dead turkey
one more pumpkin pie

Family and friends
comrades in arms
all the way to the end
no anger no harm

A day to remember
after everything's done
presents all opened
for each, every one

Blood's thicker than water
and forgiveness assured
for all of the trespass'
of what was endured

So once more we'll partake
of the wine and repast
for everyone's sake
silently lashed
to the mast
Ever notice some walk the plank, more than others? ;D
8M Dec 2018
My eyes are dull
Darkness flows fast and
Steal my heart and
Fly away

Darkness flows fast and
They'll go avast again
Fly away
Just like the hawks

They'll go avast again
Tooting the horns
Just like the hawks
They've found their prey

Tooting the horns
Searching for love
They've found their prey
Bombs away

Tooting the horns
Steal my heart and
They've found their prey
My eyes are dull
Talis Ren Nov 2018
black, macabre treasure hunt
pirating for souls
mermaids singing songs and lies
waves that demons lull

ships that sail toward candle lights
dying in the wind
searching for where angels sleep
while all they do is sin

waters moving restlessly
from whence lost sailors came
monsters underwater creep
and the driftwood floats away
Josiah Israel Nov 2018
We wander, we wander,
By moonlight, I ponder,
Whilst sailing my ship towards that shimmering star!
How we who are pirates, so willingly wander, both hither and yonder, no matter how far…

Methinks to myself, “Not a bad life to lead, no longer a ***** to the land like before…
The wind at my back, so utterly freed, to seek out adventures, on any fair shore!”

“Why do it?” Methinks, as I stand on the prou, the breeze on my face, lightly tossing my locks,
For any a man would be called crazy now, for braving the sharks, and starvation, and pox!

Is it the gold, that calls me to sea? Where hurricanes howl, and sturdy  sails rend!
Or is it the freedom that calls out to me, and gold is not more than a means to an end?

For me, ti’s the freedom, to do what I love, to sail by the light of the stars up above, And stand on my deck, under moonlight, to ponder, how we are those pirates who willingly wander…

My ship, a fine lady, a handsome thing too, a good set of guns with a competent crew, her holds full of treasures, and finest apperal, and row upon row of *** by the barrel!

So drink in the morning, and drink in the evening, and I would be lying if I didn’t say, We guzzle the *** from dusk until dawn, and me-thinks I’ll be sipping it all through the day!

Then we dance on the deck, for the music is playin, the chilly night breeze has our ship gently swayin,

And off once again, for we willingly wander, “But why?”  Says I, as by moonlight I ponder…

Wouldn’t we like to at some place belong? Would dropping our anchor for ever be wrong?

Perhaps there’s a place with a temperate climate, and someone to care for a salty old pirate?

But till that day comes, I shal willingly wander, and whilst I’m the captain, by moonlight I’ll ponder…
I borrowed this poem from my friend, Captain Herraldo, who is in fact a pirate. I took out some of the more gruesome bits —all true accounts— but tried my best to communicate his over arching ideas. He’s a good guy for a pirate!
Johnny Noiπ Sep 2018
Pirates from the sunken ship making it ashore on a dilapidated raft landed on the shoe of a reef that was home to a scurvy knave who’d once been master engineer to the Royal Navy until *** took over his thinking and he began to concoct schemes to overthrow the Crown.
Dismissed as an insane crackpot he’d been set adrift by his shipmates; coming upon the aerated cluster of marine life that was chock full of unusual and bizarre aquatic creatures and minerals; now dwelling this long among the coral creating living machines from the articulated pincers and shells of all but unknown gigantic crustaceans living on and around the reef.
Bringing liquor made them more than welcome as some of the pirates had survived clinging to a chestful of buoyant ***. The old Navy man running from his coral-thatched hut. Seeing the chest first of all he finessed the lock with a sharp fingernail tossing the chest open and guzzling down a bottle. “Ay man!” cried Captain Quick.
“I saw ‘em bring ya down,” the old mad man croaked.
“Was it a rocket?” asked the brawny woman coming up from the beach.
“Who the **** knows,” said the beachcomber.
The fierce and ***** Lizzie Quick had two gold teeth in front, one incisor on the right and one opposite front tooth outlined in gold. Her back teeth were ALL gold. So she was never without bandelier and pistols even when she slept, or ***** knaves would try to pry the gold right out of her head but now she carried a long knife at her side and a shorter rapier in her ruined kneehigh embroidered Spanish leather condorosa boots. Her red satin corset was embroidered with gold silk and her soaked hoop skirt were red and purple just because they could be. Normally light on her feet, soaked to the skin she felt as if she were wearing lead bloomers. Calling her serving ***** Esmeralda from the sand, the woman began arduously removing her mistress’ clothing layer by layer. The scavenging hermit helping himself to another bottle of ***.
“Ay man, I say, where we be?” tried Quick once again.
“You be on Wild Island, my island and ya best get off it. There’s no room for ya.”
“Ay man, you say you saw what happened out there did ya?”
“Sure did. That hole opened up and blew a **** I could smell from here. Couldn’t get away from it if I tried but it sent a blast of black **** through the air like a jet.”
“Like a what?” said the pirate.
“It’s a kind of rocket, short for ‘jettison’. I can do the same thing with a lobster. Launch it near into space.” Quick was convinced the isolated kook was completely out of his mind. The ruddy tattooed woman stripping completely ***** with no inhibitions, her equally inked dark-skinned servant dutifully peeling the wet garments from the darkly freckled body.
Quick picking up a bottle drank it down and tossed it to the sand.
“Say, matey, this ain’t your home. Don’t be discardin’ your waste on me property.”
“Who be you old man?” said the stinking pirate even after a bath.
“They call me Savage but that’s just me name. I was somebody once, an engineer in the King’s Royal Navy. I put ships on the water. Built me own right here on this here island. But I ain’t got nowhere to go.”
“You say you have a ship?” said the Quicks together.
“Say old man, how would you like some choice *****?” broached Esmeralda.
The old man squinted, “What’s that matey? Pushups? I don’t do push-ups.”
“Cooch, me hardy. Me woman’s woman’s offering you some ******. Have at it eh?”
The old man sat down in the sand to think it over.
“I haven’t had a wooden leg on many a yarn. Are they still usin’ ‘em the same way?”
“Nothin’s changed a bit, my friend. That ship out there, it’s full of women, me hardy.”
The old man’s eyes finally widened brightly as he peered from beneath his shade hand. The Green Belle out at sea gliding smoothly across the waters her wake clear as crystal.
“There be women on that thar ship?” said the sailor. “I be needing a wife.”
“Then it’s settled. You help us take that ship and you’ll get the pick of the litter.”
“Deal!” said the lonely codger wagging the pirate’s hooked paw.
“Now how about that thar ship of yours?”
“It’s a mechanical ship. Does your band know anything about machinery? Moving parts and such?” queried the stranded relic.
“I can rig a mean mast, matey. Me whole crew’s expert at workin’ a ship no matter what size.”
“I don’t **** care about that, matey. My ship goes under the water.”
“It sinks?”
“No, *******. It moves under the water like a fish.”
Quick scrubbed his jaw and pondered, turning to his first mate.
“Mister Lance, can you make anything out of what he’s saying?”
“He seems to have a, sir. I haven’t a clue.”
“Okay, old man, you win!” shouted the pirate queen herself, dragging the man by the feet into the hut. He was fine with it because he was drunk and his limbs like rubber. She was done shortly, returning to the crew on the beach. “He’ll be needing a rest. In the meantime why don’t we think up a plan?”
excerpted from The Ridiculum (c) 2018 JN & AW
Äŧül Sep 2018
Where's your pet Sparrow?
Did Edward Teach teach you?
Did you learn sailing from him?
Will you be a Blackbeard too?
Or would you rather not be?
My HP Poem #1719
©Atul Kaushal
Madeline Harper Aug 2018
Mountainous caverns
And cavernous depths
Plague and pillage taverns
Bridle beleaguered breaths

Forward the hour
And hoist the scattered skies
Time not to cower
Behind blatant lies

Prepare for the downfall
As the mountain gives way
Gruesome, thunderous brawl
Is my death in this day

If an avalanche is ****
Then I am surely home
Brokenly beaten and well:
Where chaos freely roams

Forget not our rise
For we are not our sins
But saints in the skies
Banefully, ****** kin

I am a vagabond in ****
And a vagabond: I am free
As heaven rings a final knell
While the mountains collapse for me
Random write, I might come back to this but I enjoyed writing this. Please let me know your thoughts


Next page