"ahab" poems
There's strange noises round these parts
Tales of zombies too
Haunted cabins, ghostly sights
All sorts of witches brew
We all laugh when we hear stories
Stories that we know aren't true
There's a drink that folks all know
And it ain't called witches brew
There ain't no redneck zombies
That I guarantee
To make a redneck zombie
you need the recipe
A shot or two of good old jack
and a shot of grandpa's lightning
that's a redneck zombie son
Drink two and it gets frightening
moving lights out in the wood
strange visions on the beach
swamp gas, that's what I would say
redneck zombies....that's a reach
tourist folk see things a plenty
they believe all of our tales
like the one about that boy Ahab
going chasing that white whale
There ain't no redneck zombies
That I guarantee
To make a redneck zombie
you need the recipe
A shot or two of good old jack
and a shot of grandpa's lightning
that's a redneck zombie son
Drink two and it gets frightening
if there was such a thing as zombies
wandering round out here
i'd figure it was just my kin folk
after a case or two of beer
zombies like to eat folks brains
and tear them all apart
now to a redneck, that there's work
and rednecks aren't that smart
There ain't no redneck zombies
That I guarantee
To make a redneck zombie
you need the recipe
A shot or two of good old jack
and a shot of grandpa's lightning
that's a redneck zombie son
Drink two and it gets frightening
Feb 17, 2014
Feb 17, 2014 at 1:37 PM UTC
I'm sorry, my sweet
But the dolphins don't swim anymore
They just float on the surface
Of the cruel, tempting ocean
And wait for the waves to move them
Oh, no! They aren't dead!
Don't be absurd
They're just lethargic
Atrophied
And gathering ocean dust
Since Ahab drowned
Apr 8, 2013
Apr 8, 2013 at 5:10 AM UTC
Youth runs hot, shinning souls consumed by desire.
On a search, they look for love to acquire.
But life walks by and shine does fade,
And all are in a masquerade.
It is as Heathcliff and his Kathy, they lost their love for pride.
If ether one had shown their face, would Kathy be his bride?
But life walks by and scars are made,
And all are in the masquerade.
Will you be as Ahab was, relentless for his whale.
If he had looked without his mask, would wind still hold his sails?
But life walks by and some do die,
And still goes on the masquerade.
Or will you be as the Phantom, searching for Christine.
But in the end it is Christine that finds true beauty hidden.
But life walks by and some scars fade.
And still some play the masquerade.
I beg you live your lives with passion, don't give yourself to fear.
For it is in life's darkest hours that true beauty does appear.
To look beyond life's ugly scars, to see a heart in all it's pain...
And love despite.
Do search you for your strange duet, and be not afraid to lift his mask.
For therein is where true beauty lies... And life walks by.
Feb 3, 2013
Feb 3, 2013 at 3:57 PM UTC
Done with thinking because that's for god to do
I am just this appendage of a greater consciousness
Ahab is blameless
in his small existence
Don't quote me
quote Herman and Freddy Nietzsche
They and their hermits
coming down from the mountains
to declare they ought to have
loved their fate all along
Amor fati
Why couldn't we have been stuck in the herd all along
guys who get love and happiness effortless
no need to spend their life in anguish
searching through tomes
found in tombs for eons and eons
enhancing their social aloofness
and their unremembered trauma
'till those sad souls give those pansies confidence
to leave an exegesis of their own
Too smart kid
that decried Christ and
the shadows of a god all around
only to find the search for truth was hopeless
Find a way to dumbly enjoy life again
and you only say again cause
that's all we can control
our memories
and we too often forget
our thought habits
the pre-neolithic mind tricks
on ourselves
Too many MLMs profiting off false mindfulness
missing the point beyond exercise
and short stress relief
Change your thought patterns to love your destiny
That's the best we have
to pretend to have control in this ̶h̶e̶l̶l̶ hole
Jul 10, 2020
Jul 10, 2020 at 8:49 AM UTC
The impetus
Of being
Always on the run
Through pinwheel eyes
Those standing by
The mystic roadway : River
Blues yet to be brushed
or in blush
Of evening chill's breathing
a canvas like windows dreaming felt
All mindful
And chockfull O'
Wonder
Then ponder
Yonder "window breaks"
Past the wilderness' sleep
Bone heavy wood
Umber earth
Past whoosh and rush of liquid
Folding on itself / a soundtrack
Listen now
Pedestrian be
Mindful of the cautionary whales
Old Ahab’s yell
Obsessions
Fears
Or loathing.
If one is drowning in one's sleep
Look wildly
widely
Blithely
Down river
Or up there beyond finger's point
Sidewinder snake journeys
Until sky and below it
All meet
The distance
Now only a line
Coalescing what is beyond
Our ability to see
Far and away
Evanescent
Effervescent
Ever after
River. Life.
Here we are
And proud
The free spirit is fluent
With the rapid rivers loud
Always on the run
Currents like a child's curiosity ...
How then,
When or why
does it end ?
Where do we go?
Like most things existing,
Will lead to the high art /
love's deep oceans...
We often forget to seek
And mind
the sublimations/
d¬¬rift wood.
So then,
Begin with a dot .
A speck of dusk
A burst of light
A starry sky,
pieces to mastering
Raging fragility of water
Liquid undulations
Folding itself in / volumes
Or falling from on high
A droplet cry
Then the lightning
(crash or bloom)
From the heavens
like electric rivers
So brilliantly
Festoons
Where do we go (so low)
There and here / underfoot /
Over north / southern sleep
To oceans twilight deep?
Go wrapped or map-less
Or no.
Up
Way
Up yonder
There up there
Everywhere
All without fear...
My heart like the river yearns
To go toward the sun
A flow /
the beating drum
Always on the run
And
Yet
Still
Here.
Sep 30, 2018
Sep 30, 2018 at 3:58 AM UTC
Ahoy Captain Courageous!
Cleave not thy ship from soul
Past heaving swell through
Stormy sleet this spellbinding
Siren to seek.
Away thee, Ahab! More than
Whale, this mistress heaps
Thy spirit to take thee
Deep ‘neath sandy shoal.
She sings... clings... captures.
Pour over rocks
Impudent-ass officer
Soon torn and tattered.
You know better than
Fools before thee!
Yea!
Your liquor lapses
Dead man dreaming!
Admirals and angels
Have fallen
Afore thee… oh wise one,
Ha!
Like notches on a barrel
Your soul… she’ll tow on her tale.
Jan 23, 2015
Jan 23, 2015 at 9:21 PM UTC
Sitting in a rocking chair
Hearing voices that aren't there
With a face full of despair
Where did grandma go
Grandma sitting staring into space
With a lost look on her face
In a dress all edged in lace
Where did Granma go?
Grandma' still in side we know
Her expression doesn't show
Her old eyes have lost their glow
Where did Grandma go?
Where did Grandma go?
She used to laugh and tell us tales
"Bout old Ahab chasing whales
Now, her thoughts slow as a snails
Where did Grandma go?
We'll keep coming by to see
Till the day her mind's set free
She will not remember me
Where did Grandma go?
Grandma' still in side we know
Her expression doesn't show
Her old eyes have lost their glow
Where did Grandma go?
Where did Grandma go?
Doctor's came on their last rounds
Grandma was nowhere around
Grandma died without a sound
Where did Grandma go?
Grandma now is gone
flying up close to the son
We knew what had to be done
Where did Grandma go?
Grandma' still in side we know
Her expression doesn't show
Her old eyes have lost their glow
Where did Grandma go?
Where did Grandma go?
Jun 24, 2017
Jun 24, 2017 at 11:02 PM UTC
Don't **** the Genie
Peg-leg Pete, the pirate, in the good old days of old;
found a sealed amphora, whilst searching for some gold.
The label bore a warning & a faded, scary skull
but Peg-leg Pete was curious & gave the **** a pull.
The bottle appeared empty, so he gave it quite a shake.
A rumbling, grumbling let him know – a genie was awake!
“You didn't ought to do that, you one-legged, one-eyed beast;
to someone who's been fast asleep, a hundred years, at least!”
The genie was so angry, like a bear, with a sore head.
“You'll only get one wish for that, so make it count.” he said.
“Only one!” poor Pete complained. “but I've just set you free.
I've got the very task though, that you can do for me.”
“Me owd peg-leg has woodworm & me glass-eye's on the blink;
me 'ooks gone rusty & me trusty ship's about to sink.
If you can make me whole again, one wish will be enough.
So, come on grumpy genie, shake a leg & do your stuff!”
“Make sure you word your wish exact, for there's no going back.”
The genie smirked, then got to work & everything went black.
When Pete came round, he quickly found his hook & peg-leg there
& underneath it's tatty patch, his glass-eye's icy stare.
“What trick is this, you scurvy dog, you've gone back on your word?”
“I think not Pete, just look around & see what has occurred.
Your ship is now a merchant & that warehouse on the dock.
It's yours, for import/export work – for honest trade old ****
Pete
“I don't get this, I'm still stood here,
like Ahab, off the whaler.”
Genie, smirking
“You asked me, quite specifically
to make you a whole-saler!”
Briz 5/11/13
Mar 3, 2014
Mar 3, 2014 at 3:35 AM UTC
Baal was a phony god that was worshipped by many, including King Ahab and Jezebel.
Jehovah put it upon Elijah to prove to the people that he was the true God of Israel.
Satan created Baal to turn people away from Jehovah God.
It took Elijah to prove to the people that Baal was a fraud.
Elijah knew that he could show the people the truth and make Baal falter.
He told them to slaughter a bull and use it for a sacrifice on an altar.
Elijah told them that Baal would be the true God if he could burn the bull but no fire came.
But then Jehovah God sent down fire and burned the sacrifice and that put Baal to shame.
Even though Elijah had the wood and bull covered with water, both still burned.
The people saw that Jehovah is the true God, that was the lesson that they learned.
King Ahab and Queen Jezebel promoted Baal worship and it was something they came to regret.
Both of them ended up dead and God was pleased with Elijah who was the boldest of his prophets.
Mar 11, 2016
Mar 11, 2016 at 5:28 PM UTC
If I am to be where I should belong
I would be one or two words in an unpopular song
The squeaking hinge on the bathroom door
Or the missing tile on the bathroom floor.
If I am to be, What is to be of me?
Would I get swallowed in Ahab's whale
Crawl my days in the shell of a snail
Be the hole in the bottom of a dairymaid's pail?
And if I am to be what will I see?
The fires of dawn lighting up the land
The oil can drums of a Caribbean band
The countless whispers in the grains of sand?
If I am to be where I belong..If I'm not wrong
I should be here.
Sep 11, 2011
Sep 11, 2011 at 4:40 PM UTC
I...
I...
I can't find words
to properly observe
my absurd
feelings.
I'm dealing with
A lack of a fifth
appendage.
I'm missing my thumb
Well...
Well...
Well like an appendix,
I'm useless
for your senses.
Sensing
your numb to me
your like Nestle
chocolate is addicting.
and soothing
But...
But...
But I went to rehab
where I met Ahab
who was on Jihad
cause of some white girl
We realized
were hypnotized savages
victimized by
self-reliance
the key word being lie
Now...
Now...
Now were stagnant
spaced on various fragments
adorned with magnets
to the walls
surrounding
counting
drowning
in cement
Dec 11, 2012
Dec 11, 2012 at 4:46 AM UTC
This unnatural light
like the last summer
before the last winter
sends the grackles
into the cedars
rattling their wings
in the evergreens
making a sound like Ishmael
casting his bones
on the deck of Ahab's ship.
Jun 4, 2017
Jun 4, 2017 at 7:03 AM UTC
I licked my finger and raised it to the air.
And set sail.
due North. Tacked a bit east. sea spray lashing
me down to the mast.
I saw Ahab in the distance aboard a white monstrosity.He seemed quite happy.
The years had been kind. A Fulfilled destiny.
I envy him so to surrender.
I tacked south.
some strange feat but a mighty ****** am I. The wind at my beck the stars at call.
sextant be dammed. I will rise where I fall. or sink.
Brinkmanship my stock in trade.
The wind remained at my back for a score and one.
my shirt in tatters. Still tied to the mast.
Howling banshees beckon me shore.
Nevermore.
Jul 11, 2013
Jul 11, 2013 at 3:57 AM UTC
some cast lines into swift rivers
or vast seas of uncertainty
while others throw nets toward
rich stores of earthly treasure
ships piloted by the heart,
steer in fruitless pursuit
of elusive schools of love
a doughty fool forever waits
to harpoon longshot luck
a happenstance filled fate
Godly men cast nets
among flocks of people,
for they alone produce the
bountiful yields of bursting nets
for sons of Jonah and Ahab
a fruitless watch is foretold
self love’s only triumph
is a loveless end
remain a solitary fisher
gliding by on birch bark canoe
minding a compass of faith
Taj Mahal
Fishin Blues
jbm
NYC
4/9/89
Jun 2, 2013
Jun 2, 2013 at 10:40 PM UTC
Well I'm ridin through the crossroads
on a midnight jet black horse,
got my pistol cocked and my sabre sheathed
,but loosely as a matter of course-
In the past I could let my guard down,
but Tonight I must not fail,
I'm like Jonah riding in the belly of the beast
while Ahab takes aim at the whale,
screaming from Hells heart I stab at thee for hate I spit my last breath
but tonight's my night
the coin's just took flight will it be life or endless death?,
I'm a wanted man with a blackened name,
and the hunter's have my scent,
but it's my one true love who I've got to save,
so on her rescue I'm Hellbent.
And the hell in there is not a turn of phrase,
she's in the grip of Satan's kin,
and if silver and steel can't save her soul,
I'll trade my own straight in.
because Sweet Alice always warned me
'bout the company I kept,
but I ignored her wisdom and for my sins,
she was taken while I slept,
by a Hell spawned demon creature
straight from Lucifer's darkest dream,
and her sob of fear is all I could hear,
now I'm haunted by that scream,
and for 11 years I've faced all my fears
on an evil infested trail,
a Witch woman omen caster told me I could save her with the holy grail.
I turn to see the demon following me
thru the gloom and misty hail,
and for the thousandth time I curse my oath to quest for the holy grail,
but Sweet Alice needs me to be strong,
and so I must not fail,
to face hell's hordes and save her soul I must find the holy grail
Apr 9, 2016
Apr 9, 2016 at 7:15 PM UTC
the only jeans with holes,
the polo shirt with "passionate peach" paint
from the kitchen remodel she wanted, the yard work shoes
these were the raiments he chose for his final drive, the one in "park"
in the garage, with the engine idling, its humming a monotonous lullaby
sung by compliant pistons
he wandered through the house
like a sated forager, looking at everything, for nothing,
old pictures on the walls--children, parents, one of himself,
the Yale mortar board tilting on a face who could
have been a stranger, and was, that last afternoon
books on shelves, mostly read, their stories now forgotten
even Moby **** his favorite--eight silent vertical letters
replacing a white whale he relentlessly pursued with Ahab
a sink with one small plate and the disposal's shining ring,
the burial ground for his last, uneaten meal
those were the visions he chose
before writing his notorious note,
"BYE, ALL MY PAPERS ARE IN THE ROLL TOP"
taking the keys from the peg, and taking his final steps
into the cluttered gray garage, to his 2011 Volvo
when some hand turned the key,
igniting a welcoming flame, a few intrusive notes
of a Beatles song came through the six speaking speakers
yanking something in his gut, pulling his hand
to the handle to open the door, to return to the house,
the pictures, the stories on the walls, but the other,
the right hand, ejected the CD, rejecting the beguiling voices
that would have him stay, for another dull, deaf day
he folded his hands in his lap,
allowed his chin to rest on his chest
where his eyes could see the holes in his threadbare denim
taking solace in the fact that he had chosen the right clothes
so those still in the house, yet in the blur called life
would have only whole and clean reminders of him
to fold neatly, and leave on the porch
for the Salvation Army
May 11, 2014
May 11, 2014 at 2:11 PM UTC
Repeating with
The frequency
Of apologies,
"I'm not here,
This isn't happening,"
While my head
Spins, and my
Innards lurch
Like carnival
Ride children,
"I'm not here,
This isn't happening,"
The chaos,
The orderly
Passage of red
Faced spectators
Drifting through space,
Their classic attempts
To embrace and
Disengage,
Grinning at what
Can't be erased,
"I'm not here,
This isn't happening,"
Like the sound of
Hopes cast into
The depths of hell,
Glinting tokens
You can't see
Seconds after you
Drop them in,
I'm the air,
I'm the disillusionment
That lets you know
When to be scared,
The anvil in
Your gut telling you
To stop,
I am the sweat
That drips
Like morphine
Into post-mortem
Pathways through
A needle
That needs sharpening,
"I'm not here,
This isn't happening,"
This is just a test,
As they say,
It'll all be ok
Once some obese
***** wails,
The levees are stressed
And the horsemen
Idle and wait for the fail,
For the flood
Of repentance,
Of common
Indecency,
For the blood
From Ahab's whale
To initiate
The shackling
Of the sorrowfully
Undeclared,
"I'm not here,
This isn't happening."
Nov 10, 2012
Nov 10, 2012 at 12:33 AM UTC
Oft had I thought ‘twas meant just for a male
And mindlessly I’d chosen not to read
Until one day I was summoned to heed
Melville’s epic tale of The Great White Whale
The wandering sailor - “Call me Ishmael”
Captain Ahab - vengeance his greedy need
Reckless, careless; anything to succeed
Yet, his destiny, rightly, was to fail
Hodge-podge of cultures from all walks of life
Scruples, beliefs, tenets, lessons and more
Adventure and religion - all were rife
Herman challenged and gave voice to it all
The world then - the world now - deeply in strife
When will we learn and stop fighting the war?
Sep 11, 2011
Sep 11, 2011 at 8:28 PM UTC
Lashed to the side .washed by the rolling tide
I have traversed the oceans wide.somehow. my cursed soul
Cannot find surcease.
Seasons go and decades flow.
Down, down to the depths we go. A watery grave
I stubornly craved ,no such. Cursed beast.
"No whale. No cursed devil."
Release me to darkness.
To hell and gone.
Vengeance is mine saeth the lord
I Ahab spat defiance.
A wooden keepsake strapped to my knee.
A bitter morsel for mobey **** who bit and spit the cursed zealot
Away to drift.
Now strapped astride.his sworn foe
His soul long dead .sent ahead.
Ahabs sentence
To prowl the depths
To see the unseen.
Fathom for fathom.dark and deep
Never to sleep or feel the touch.
A horrific Dutchman to end of days
To repent for his blackheart vengeance.
Forever cast
Away.
Dec 10, 2012
Dec 10, 2012 at 11:49 PM UTC
Unnatural
he became,
up at all hours
walking the main deck
in gales & in the calm
watching the ripples,
the birds above the ocean
for any sign of recompense.
He burned the midnight oil,
toiled with the trivial,
fought with himself
for dominance.
He had become mad,
blocking out reality
because the white fish
had stolen his leg
& in the process,
hell came knocking
to sink his ship
& to break
his black heart.
Apr 30, 2014
Apr 30, 2014 at 5:14 AM UTC
When I first met you in the wood
T'was like the hunter found his hart
I searched for you my swimmer pale
Like Ahab searched for his white whale
I walked for long with bow in hand
And quiver full of cupids arrows
Like the hind you were so quick
And I lost you in the forest thick
But sometimes I would see a hint
The sound of footfalls in dead sprint
Then I would try to catch and run
Thinking that my prize was won
But always you had come and gone
The most elusive adult faun
I never could quite shoot my dart
And never could quite hit your heart
In sadness I left to go
And heard your gentle hoofbeats slow
I turned and looked beyond the snow
And I saw you there my lovely doe
So timidly you looked at me
Simply wanting to be free
So I stayed my hand and bow
And waited in the cold white snow
For now I know that if you chase
The hunted will seek out more space
An eternity it seemed
While my breath in cold air steamed
And then you took a step towards me
But still I waited by the tree
And then you were by my side
Affection for you I could not hide
Finally I have got you deer
Now please will you forget your fear
For I will always be right here
If you my love will be my dear
Feb 28, 2010
Feb 28, 2010 at 10:04 PM UTC
Backstroking
into a midnight snack.
That's some bad hat, Harry!
See the sign with the fishy graffiti?
It's supposed to be scary.
Come one, come all
on the fourth of July!
Put your kid on a raft
and watch him liquefy.
Then sail the high seas
with Captain Ahab.
Three men in a tub.
Too far out to hail a cab.
Guess we'll see who ends up grub...
Jan 9, 2020
Jan 9, 2020 at 7:53 PM UTC
I know what it is
To want revenge
To believe that
Killing my own
White Whale
Would give back
What I've lost to it
I know what it is
To lose all of myself
To the things
That only wanted
Parts of me
Jun 4, 2018
Jun 4, 2018 at 6:29 PM UTC