#davyjones
Beautiful Bounty, that was her name
The vessel to take us to stake our new claim
Her cabins were sleek
A strong wooden frame
We set to the seas
Fortune awaits
Beautiful Bounty, now gone astray
Great blue skies
Now faded gray
weak lumber and hunger cause great dismay
Beautiful Bounty, sunk deep in the sea
Eighty-eight souls nevermore to be
No fame nor riches did they ever witness
Beauty Bounty, that was her name
A watery grave
The last thing she gave
Jul 4, 2017
Jul 4, 2017 at 9:29 PM UTC
Shaking my head as I shuffle through Nod
And wander through darkness on scabrous old feet
Where the fruits are forbidden, and might I add strictly
But the knowledge is ever so sweet
I’m Under the Influence of sir Malcolm L
And M. L. von Franz has me under her spell
Seeking the change that I wish I could be
While my dear inner Ahab I struggle to quell
To search by escaping through tropics and trenches
Determined to make every ocean my home
My singular purpose: the potion that quenches
Still I drink that I could theme alone
In this watering hole will I bury my hatchets
A sickness that’s cured is an ailment forgotten
So choke every sorrow and drown your regrets
A soul that remembers is cursed to go rotten
With penalties and interest forever compounded
I’m astounded to watch how my recollection grows
The proverbial wisdom that’s also called madness
Is purchased on credit and paid for with woes
Drifting asea to steer clear of collectors
Engulfed instead by tempests my own
Echoing voices demanding comeuppance
From the depth comes a cry that disturbs every bone
These howling reminders are issued below
From under the surface by more than a beast
My pirates on deck keep me bound to the mast
Always in earshot and never released
Mostly a head but with hardly a face
My nemesis, massive, can scarcely be seen
Not to be measured through time or in space
From his cousins’ cadavers our data we glean
Less than a man, I stomp on my stump
And promise to silence the primitive brute
Guided by starlight, unable to sleep
Harpoon at the ready and eager to shoot
**** the torpedoes and to hell with the crew
Set sail at once for the wide open blue
Don’t be seduced by this monster in white
His message is wicked, no less than it’s true
He feeds on your anger, you’re never too old
To listen instead of exerting your tongue
Or shaking the hinges of Davy Jones’ locker
On the floor of the ocean where Melville met Jung
Aug 15, 2024
Aug 15, 2024 at 5:14 PM UTC