"brig" poems
When you feel forever
LOST
impossibly gone.
You won't be
FOUND
Its not that simple
Just look to the stars,
WISH
believe it will come true
To simply hope is
PROFOUND
silly to even think it.
If you run, you're a coward;
although to stay is to die.
You must find your own escape...
How easy, if only you could fly.
Running gets you nowhere
when you're locked in this maze.
Somethimes thoughts hit you hard;
knock you out for a minute, maybe days.
Determined, you keep looking...
assuming this soon will end.
Yet these prison bars just won't break,
they don't even bother to bend!
Just lie on your back
RELAX
forget all else.
Stare into the beyond, the
EMPTINESS,
the abyss.
Make your wish, make it
COUNT
don't blow it now, just think.
In order to get out, get away,
ESCAPE
you can't afford to faulter, to miss.
Dec 29, 2012
Dec 29, 2012 at 2:55 AM UTC
Zombies are waddling toward their door.
Witches are cackling, black cats are scratching,
And the ghouls want brains and more.
But Brig and Ophelia aren’t scared yet,
They’re waiting inside,
Gobbling strange snacks while they hide.
It’s bugs they like to chew and gnaw;
And they love to eat their spiders raw,
Not fried with onions, like Granda;
Or served with broccoli, like Nana.
Not boiled with worms and creepy crawlers.
Ciaran eats those,
Not these crazed daughters.
Ophelia and Brig
Eat them raw,
Alive, not dead,
With wiggly legs and sharp jaws;
And wrapped up with mosquito heads
In white sticky spider webs.
They eat Black Widows soaked in goblin blood
And wicked witch’s poo;
Made from bats and rats and unschooled fools,
That witches eat to soften stools.
They eat fat spiders
Floating in soup,
That slide and wiggle
Down their throat.
They eat them with their mouldy cheese,
Melted over wasps and bees.
The girls fork down spider stew,
They love the taste “Tres beaucoup.”
The gravy’s made from a mummy’s spit,
And sweat that drips from a ghoul’s armpit.
They like their spiders spread on bread,
A feast to feed the risen dead.
When their snack is finally done,
They’ll pick their teeth and scrape their tongues
For Daddy Long Legs they didn’t eat.
The long legs caught between their teeth.
They'll use those legs to weave a wreath,
To trick flies and bugs and lonely spiders
Into their hungry House of Horrors.
Oct 30, 2023
Oct 30, 2023 at 11:06 AM UTC
Bear with a sore head
Takes coyote on post haste
Bore v. Trickster tried
Hung court just verdict
Bought ideologically
Branded! Brig banished
Like Guantanamo
Force fed on stale chalk
Red glib ref to beasts
Totalists with clubs
Tabulate ***** ad hoc
Bring shame to beating
When stops suicide?
Noble savage survives best
Practice leads young straight
Where head caravans?
Lossless nomads swim through sand
To moor oases
Connect with bazaars
Extra-exponential rock
Scissors paper cuts
Exacto-knifed sharp
Cards tabled until sure things
Made deals pay upfront
Cold hard confidence
Wannabe men drive sweet game
Put all together
Touch trumps tears takes no prison
Uncaged roam space free
Our place ancients planned
Body mind spirit heart team
Here earth *** soils worms
Compost ground debris
Bred sustenance seeds rich peat
Brings about the end
Jul 15, 2013
Jul 15, 2013 at 2:26 AM UTC
The hull is full of skeletons but I cannot prove a thing,
so instead I'll heave around the lines and softly start to sing.
Perhaps they'll send me to the brig
or have me dance a gallows jig.
but either way, I'm here to stay
until my body fades away.
So fellow sailors start to chant, I want t hear your voices.
They mean more to me than you will ever know.
I'll be gone for a while but I'll be back...
Nov 15, 2013
Nov 15, 2013 at 12:45 AM UTC
368
How sick—to wait—in any place—but thine—
I knew last night—when someone tried to twine—
Thinking—perhaps—that I looked tired—or alone—
Or breaking—almost—with unspoken pain—
And I turned—ducal—
That right—was thine—
One port—suffices—for a Brig—like mine—
Ours be the tossing—wild though the sea—
Rather than a Mooring—unshared by thee.
Ours be the Cargo—unladed—here—
Rather than the “spicy isles—”
And thou—not there—
1.6k
When ships set sail, their masts held high
Daunting flags, painting the sky
With rails gold rimmed
And sails sharp trimmed
A crowd appears, waving adieu, goodbye
Thunderous roar, unequaled praise
Wind catching sheets
Anchors raised
A bell rings softly and waves do lap
Against the hull of a wooden throne
From far off shores this scene is spied
With two friends of oars we've always tried
To reach for that deck
In fervent eye
Climb on board or surely die
Tattered clothes, sailors cap
Smudge on cheek
Shirt of burlap
We push off deck
Yet crowd is gone
A journey ventured with bright sun dawned
Water ripples with our wake
Small and steady pulses we make
Though we row to catch schooner bold
As we creak of wooden old
Land gestures for us to stay
Why venture out on choppy bay?
Whispers roll and caustic laugh
With sun beat oars a line is set
No motive sweeter, nor regret
Sweat beads mix with salty froth
Cutting across the water green
Battleship chugs with billowed steam
A voice escapes you as you scream
Sputtering away, with muted cries
And oars but stop
Far from home
As head does drop
Splintered hull tears apart
We're left to cling to shattered planks
And fight to stay afloat
Alone
With far off yacht a speck
Atone for water slapping neck
We groan with defeated boat and deck
Driftwood in salty surf
Connecting with shore
We walk back to land
Imprints swallowed by golden sand
A new rowboat to be procured
Again we build to flag down our Brig
And stand upon its polished bow
We persist to where we are but now
As we strive to grasp victory bell
We strive ever onward
To sail with our destined
Caravelle
Jan 30, 2014
Jan 30, 2014 at 9:36 AM UTC
723
It tossed—and tossed—
A little Brig I knew—o’ertook by Blast—
It spun—and spun—
And groped delirious, for Morn—
It slipped—and slipped—
As One that drunken—stept—
Its white foot tripped—
Then dropped from sight—
Ah, Brig—Good Night
To Crew and You—
The Ocean’s Heart too smooth—too Blue—
To break for You—
1.2k
How love strikes down so deep
The object, like a ship goes down
It’s captain, her words so sweet
My heart. A ship. A stolen crown
Lighter than the air surrounding
The captain, giving wings to ship
Yet piercing my heart, confounding
Slowly sinking, drip, drip, drip
Unbeknownst, my heartstrings she plays
Searching, she finds not one for her own
Yet found have I, all the days
My heart I give, her skipping stone
The rolling, rushing sea of thought
A tempestuous grave I dig
My mind, false conclusions brought
My heart, sent back to the brig
And so this captain, set for sail
Upon the unforgiving winds of change
My ship aground, put back by nail
A bulls-eye placed, her firing range
Walking now, alone it seems
For fear of a changing tide
I awake from a half remembered dream
Someday, I will have my bride.
Jan 31, 2011
Jan 31, 2011 at 10:49 PM UTC
Three!
Scientists stare at microbes
As we stare at humans and ants,
Sinks beneath the great dimensional wave
That is the cosmos.
Thinner and thinner I become.
Two!
This moment captured and caged,
In this sinking ship,
We’re in the brig now!
Our eyes and ears condensed
And all things.
What are we now?
Little bear? Great bear? Orion? Jupiter?
One!
We were perpetuated by hope.
Encouraged by discovery
But forever glossed over by our
Incompetence and our inadequacies.
In facing death we turned to look up at the stars.
We dared to dream,
And now we dream
Of humans and ants trapped on a sphere
In the great Galactic ocean.
Lift Off!
The space between rocks.
Jan 15, 2015
Jan 15, 2015 at 8:49 PM UTC
Skeletons from my past
that haunt me leap from my closet,
Heart beating fast,
sinful things that I have amassed,
now my mayflowers mast.
Both cast & crew, planked eyes, 2thru which they view.
mutinous! venomous!
Now its down to the brig for the both of us. Couple Capn's in cuffs. ...
What will await us on this new land?
Gold? Diamonds? If only!!! ... ...
Then suddenly unlocked for me
Was the prison we were sitting in
S'like I was a slave now free
to begin again. Now hate is not my sin even as the spiritual muses spew vile things as I exit from: within
the anchored vessel Wrecka'less
one. my faith has been tested, & second, lessons taught with a gun... make mans war's never won.
Go! Explore while there's still sun left!
Roll on cue (sonset)
curtains. exit stage left.
Dec 14, 2015
Dec 14, 2015 at 10:03 PM UTC
Two birds in similar cages bound,
with bleached white staves
a brig of flesh.
The lock unreachable,
as with any prisoner,
but it keeps them not from calling,
to their opposite companion.
The Jailers hear the songs,
block them out,
try to stifle the warbling beaks,
but they know there will be no peace
till the bleached white staves are joined,
and the two birds may nest together.
May 15, 2013
May 15, 2013 at 2:27 PM UTC
I knocked at Hannah's door
her mother opened it
and I asked if Hannah was in
she looked at me as if
I'd suggested something impolite
Hannah th' boy's haur
she bellowed over her shoulder
I took in her fiery eyes and turbaned head
her dark hair tucked away beneath
Hannah came to the door
where shall we go
she asked
so I can tell Maw?
What about Bermondsey docks
I can show you my school
then see Tower Bridge?
We're gonnae see Tower Brig
Hannah said to her mother
awe rite be cannie
her mother replied
so we walked off from her flat
and got a bus to Bermondsey
(my mother had given me coins
she was a kind soul)
sitting together in the front
watching the scenes go by
nothing spectacular
just London sights
and people passing
and vehicles going by
we held hands
moving to the motion
of the bus
her hand was warm
our fingers entwined
once we arrived
I showed her my school
(she went to a girls' school
nearer to home
her mother insisting no boys)
it looks a bit Dickensian
Hannah said
it is and even the teachers
are old as grime
she laughed and we walked on
to see Tower Bridge
and walked across to the other side
then had pop drinks in a small cafe
and shared a slice of cake
and sat and talked
I don't think your mother likes me
I said
o she doesn't like males full stop
not just you Benedict
men ur blecht
she tells me and my dad
what's that mean?
I asked her
means men are a blight
like a disease
she laughed
and sipped her tea
I sipped mine
smiling away
hoping that she
(like her mother
Mrs Scot)
never included me.
Aug 1, 2015
Aug 1, 2015 at 2:56 AM UTC
carrying a humongous ego
is so heavy in weight
it's much like a fifty ton
load of lead freight
who in their right mind wants
to haul around a cargo this big
being encumbered by it
could easily sink the brig
an ego of enormous size
isn't worth the shoulder stress
so don't put yourself under
such a burden of duress
Jan 31, 2018
Jan 31, 2018 at 5:58 AM UTC
lay
down right nex
t
o
there sleep well
and sleeep tightttttttt
dream soft
dream
brig
ht
words kill words bite
time flies
time hurts
your Hair
your per
fect
face
like a sun
shining
some
where
wor
ds
am
i am
i know
to seed the
farm
and let the bodies
let them go
and let me go
i'll be right there
to see it through and throw my hands right through your hair andc cry out yes and hold you close and put your lips right on my mouth
and eject
...
hold
me
close
...
and
go
away
i
now
i'm
lonely
on
vicarious
envy
you
only
you only you only you only you only you only you only you only you only you only
love me
...
Jun 6, 2013
Jun 6, 2013 at 3:30 PM UTC
The moonshine is everything
The soul from which I sing
What keeps me whole,
here, and clean
The brightest light I bow to
The only crown I vow to
Hold in my hands and not on my head
For I am not dying, or ever dead
I never cowered, I never sank
You were always here
We share this plank
For without you I could not see through these eyes
For without you we were never synchronized
For without you life was never real
Reality's goal is to unbreak your seal
Set your soul free, allow yourself to heal
Take the bandages off
Let the sun melt the snow
Hold my hand through this winter
I'll guide you to your show
Follow me when you catch your brig break
Remember the time and what was at stake
How you came so close to what you had left
The people you left behind
Your family and friends
But if we all were the same
If we all looked alive
Nothing would stop us
We all would collide
and bind into those who deserved us
The separate forms off the moonlight in One
How perception will change
Never fade and go on
I look up to you
I never want to sink
Keep my heart for ever guided
and my mentality a full tank
Apr 15, 2014
Apr 15, 2014 at 2:50 AM UTC
A sad shanty
We had sailed the seven seas
the schooner I met in the tranquil bay
she had a figurehead made of mahogany
anchor chain made of silver
and her deck was scrubbed every day.
Alas beside her a brig made of the same
timber as the schooner
and had never left the safety of the bay.
Side by said we slowly heave but our
dream of the south seas has been suspended
Dec 21, 2016
Dec 21, 2016 at 5:13 AM UTC
Why do people say my heart will write all my thoughts out like the addicted drugs flowing threw my Bains.
Why do we bring beauty prospective in dead heat of summer when everything dues of water.
Why do people say to me my russian blue eyes match a vary stormy m9nth of the rain storms.
WHyde be in hand of a angel that will make your wrists bleed.
Why summer than cold weather with rain.
I feel like I'm not going insane when I can spread my wings and write all my stories to my life experiences.
Why should we look at summer when cold and rainy weather brings new life into equinox.
My left hand might be my weapon but violence shouldn't be risk when your only escape is being bathed into the cold rain filling up all your cuts broken bones brussis.
The rain will save us from rushing into danger with out fear.
Let me rain so I can bring my next generation back
Aug 15, 2016
Aug 15, 2016 at 2:40 AM UTC
Lest I forget
The worlds from which I came
Throw me in thy brig
Whilst the waves cast me shame
Am not I the keeper of my mind?
The mind inside my head
Lest I forget
The worlds from which I came
Mar 14, 2018
Mar 14, 2018 at 3:07 PM UTC
First purple page, plagiarizing plums crushed like candy between incisors
First new wave, going right over the reef with aquatic teeth
Wish me luck, tango la suerte y la magica
Listening to the Bosnian adhan, for fun, 2:14am
Stainless steel ice reservoir, killing for a taste of nicotine air
Got sick of chewing my smoke
Not dead broke quite yet, need a haircut and I'm set
It's a bet betting on me, make an investment and see
Tight lines at quarter time, spilling rhyme reasonless
**** your system, digest aggression, **** out plastic
Okinawa brig **** white woman tapped my back give me my shot God ******
Jul 7, 2019
Jul 7, 2019 at 5:17 AM UTC
Why do they
jump ship
we aren't sinking
I mean
the deck is messy
and the brig
is a touch crammed
but still?
Jan 30, 2016
Jan 30, 2016 at 6:06 PM UTC
She's faded oil paintings and Venusian vengeance. Soft to the touch, a voice that bends and bows with the valleys. She'd exhaled the netted veil draped carelessly over mankind's volatile roots. From gallows she'd dissolved like the last breath of autumn soured bloom. Apollo danced in her tendrils, across fragile bends and swinging limbs. No longer did the bath house run clear but crimson. The gods welcomed the divine feminine incarnate. Cast her radiance over Luna, echoing laughter to the forests and fae. Save soul for a later form, an epochs holy dole.
Oct 26, 2017
Oct 26, 2017 at 9:32 PM UTC