#plunder
Unto a summer and all that seemed likely,
set open as a tome
that old friends discovered lightly.
One day, as many of them do,
did simmer and saunter
under the golden glimmer and heat
that haunted away the dew.
Slumber then and to you shall pass,
a little of brotherly offense
collapsing with the weight
of ten siblings crass.
What can I say to one such as thee,
but wish and wonder and ne’er throw away,
the exquisite plunder
of such a deepening display,
wrought whistling in a cinnamon forest
of raspberry inlays—
unbound, incorked and nuptially unmade.
A coat for the shoulders
to keep the cold at bay,
and a rather wistful, wicked malaise
glistening in the skull of those
that always threaten to run away.
Life is a gateway and nothing remains.
Aug 11, 2025
Aug 11, 2025 at 9:36 AM UTC
Infested, impaled, slaughtered meat, and brimstone candy
Slumped on a throne with a pirate's dagger under a skeleton key
Drowning children in a gaping gutter of godless servitude
Putrid streams dripping puddles under the disemboweled
Drink the fornicating disease, backmasking a kaleidoscope clown
Forget me not as my ship docks, I will surely help you drown
Aug 28, 2021
Aug 28, 2021 at 4:43 AM UTC
Simply put my life is ruled by numbers
Digits by the dozens in screaming color
People asking how was your SAT, ACT?
Don’t be shy, go on tell us
You better have gotten over a 30
Or a string of numbers 1500 above
The concept of clocks striking six, twelve, perhaps one
Stressing to be early has already begun
Alarms ringing, time frames narrowing, dictating much of my seeing
Algebra, geometry, chemistry galore
Maths of all sorts are sometimes a bore
The weight of a newborn, hoped to be a seven
A timely occurrence, the baby down from Heaven
A social security number
Rings out like a thunder
While the hospital collects its plunder
Mar 30, 2021
Mar 30, 2021 at 5:53 PM UTC
interesting and unfortunate explain our days
humanity smiles as we lose our senses
the kingdom of today has been plundered
we must overcome the enemy, to return to yesterday
Brian Hill - 2020 # 203
Jul 25, 2020
Jul 25, 2020 at 10:40 PM UTC
Though I splish
Though I splash
*** I drink so fear my wrath
Behold my mate
Behold my captain
Cutlasses ring and we are laughing
Pity me not
Pity the foe
Sink him to the godless unknown
Plunder the hold
Plunder her chest
Strife we be so do not rest
Sink the English
Sink the Spanish
We rule here so we **** them
Free we are
Free we be
A lavish life is the one for me
If I am hanged
If I am dead
Fear not mate I swam to land
Cut your foes
Cut their friends
We rule this kingdom
In the Queen Anne's Revenge!
Jan 3, 2016
Jan 3, 2016 at 8:48 PM UTC
I was always a pirate,
but I cried when my mother made me apologize
mouth sticky with taffy
standing, chubby and head hanging at the register.
Fast forward about 15 years and the bag was full before I came in...
sort of...
with each five-fingered purchase,
I flattened filling and raised awareness.
That '86 Royalle Olds' might as well
have had a Jolly Roger on the break light.
Those lawn-lovers had no idea; the gnomes stood no chance.
The refrigerator in that apartment was a shelf of empty bottles.
My mouth was a shelf of angry urchins;
prickly, and poisonous.
Age made me less salt than ore
and I tried to love the land
with fervency and fear.
Clinging to the pews, the fat lady did sing,
and sing, and sing,
but not the ending.
Once you earn the salt-sailor's badge,
there is no convenient way to dress it up,
but boy does it make a good story from the pulpit.
I can't boast of robbed riches or daring escapes.
My ships were sodden floored and taking weight.
My homesteads, still, were fractured living.
So, no, instead of calling the name a fate, I'd rather gloat.
Raccoons, clever bandits and plunderers they are
do not make excuses for their nature.
They are who they are,
and I...
am a pirate.
Jan 24, 2015
Jan 24, 2015 at 7:03 PM UTC