Pretty bird
was flying by
I fell in love
So loved felt I
Pretty Bird Pretty bird
Singing
Jib Jib Jib
I couldn't help but
Feelin' high
I didn't know
Jib Jib Jib
I'd have to say goodbye
Pretty Bird
Pretty Bird
Sing for me again
She sparked my heart
My perfect muse
Melody of a meadowlark
I fell in love
So loved felt I
Jib Jib Jib
Gettin' high
I went crazy
For that Lady Bird
Pretty Bird

Pretty Bird Lady Bird
I believed every word
I fell in love
So loved felt I
Gettin high.

Far off in the distance,
a thousand dreams or so,
a winged syren beckons
of land, of hope, of home 

An alluring vision rises,
between port bow and port beam,
above the windward gunwale,
above the Devil's seam 

The main and mizzen struggle
against the howling wind,
the staysails strain
against the sheets
hauled taut and closely in 

But the course we follow
cannot reach our destination true 

We must tack and then again,
until our bow is set dead on,
and find a steady
wind and fair  
to fly above
the pounding waves,
to free the maiden's hair 

Just beyond the bowsprit,
a thousand leagues at sea,
the flying jib will lead us where
our spirits find their peace

All the jibs in all the land
The cut of yours is best.
One day I chose a jib for me
And yours outshone the rest.
You said that I could borrow it
If in a bad jib rut,
And I could sail around the world
All jibby in my cut.

~~~

Long hair, mixed feelings
love strains, people stop
early spring, late awakening
trailing with fear, outsiders glance
giving up, walk so strait
histories curse, the curse that all jib
but find it following to meet you no more.

Anyway, Anaplasmata act aptly and abstractly
Backhands ******* balky baklava
Caractal chasm chant "Catty cavalry can't"
Dactyl dada dawns Djakarta drab

Larva ask dab-tap shabby knack lad
"Ever elect effete experts elsewhere?"
A clad daddy wants a dark jab dart
Fleece fleets flee flecked flyspecks

Cleft feet eve expels three resew eres
Gentle germs gelde grebe's geyser
Cede effects leek fell pecks self lyfes
Hellbent helmsmen helped hexed herders hence

Glen's remelted eggs be Serge-Grey
It insistingly implys impish ipsissimis insipidity
He held next her belched sender heel
Jiggling jibs jinx jimmy's jill jig

Its smilingly spiny impish mississippi I-I-I Is It dinty?
Kidding kibitz kick killing kings kitsch
sigil sign jimmy jib jingling jil
Livid linitis limits limbs limp

Big **** kid kicks thinking gill's zit kink
Midriffs mimics Mis's minimizing mistypings
Slim villi distils it, mini blimp
nil ninhydrin nihilists nicks nyxis nightly

Ms Mmisty's zip disc, if firm, is miming mining
ontology on top of oophoron ostomy.
Hindi hint silly lynchings. Skinny nix I stir
phonology 'pon phytol plywood poops polyglots pompons.

Polygon hoof-moon on poor toys toot
qophs
phony thong ploy loops monolog poppy.  Woody plop! Psst!
Rooks romp rootstock rods

"Posh" - Q
Schoolroom scoffs scoop shockproof snort stools
Mock stork pro or door toss
Thyrotomy 'top torpor tot's torso

So-so rooftop honk slots. Morocco sloops off
Usufruct tu upchucks
Stormy troops root to tot trothy
Vulgus vult vults

**** such curt cut ups
Wrung wctu
Vulgus vult vults
Xu

Wrung WCTU
Yummy yurts
Xu
Zulu zymurgy

Yummy! Try us!
Lawman scandal any pay at a scab yap tat tartly
Zulu zymurgy
Almanac-scratch that-clay tract vacancy

they don't read poems
poor souls, scratching and headless
don't write them either


country lane bike ride
T-shirt flapping like a jib
three sheets to the wind

Apple red cheeks blushing from conversations with cherry-picked lips.
I ponder the track that your mind runs on.
A lover's affreightment as between sailors and ships
Nothing compares to the grass on this lawn.
Days of old have left rips in your sails
But no need to sink the zabra
For I brought needle and thread
I will sew up your wounds but if all else fails
I will still love you til the day that your dead
Call up the boatswain and throw the anchor off the port bow
I have found my piece of the sea
No more sailing the open ocean now
Because I found my lover and he has found me

I
The stars are double-weighted tonight.
bulging, beating, they sink
from their proper lurches.
One by one across the murky
evening they sputter out.
What natural light remains
seeps from that subtly gaudy
bauble of a moon.

II
Peeled eucalyptus, ice-plant, new-mown summer grass,
dandelion, sloping hill, carved stone bench,
the view, the reflected city-light off the bay water,
white-washed near-tenements.

I am firmly locked up, chained in a bone cage
of chemically manipulated cranial plates;
serotonin, synapses, dopamine, dendrite
create a web like seaweed constricting the sea;
this computer of a head calculates, oscillates,
and processes the sensory.

III
My body is a tattered jib sail
flowing in the light sprinkling rain:
the simmer of the gale:
a hollow cathedral abandoned
by the believers:
a vessel for my marrow:
an imaginary catalyst for profundity:
an incarceration: a hull of particles
arrested: some part of an experience.

Heh! Walk her round. Heave, ah, heave her short again!
Over, ****** her over, there, and hold her on the pawl.
Loose all sail, and brace your yards aback and full—
Ready jib to pay her off and heave short all!
  Well, ah, fare you well; we can stay no more with you, my love—
   Down, set down your liquor and your girl from off your knee;
         For the wind has come to say:
         “You must take me while you may,
      If you’d go to Mother Carey
      (Walk her down to Mother Carey!),
   Oh, we’re bound to Mother Carey where she feeds her chicks at sea!”

Heh! Walk her round. Break, ah, break it out o’ that!
Break our starboard-bower out, apeak, awash, and clear!
Port—port she casts, with the harbour-mud beneath her foot,
And that’s the last o’ bottom we shall see this year!
  Well, ah, fare you well, for we’ve got to take her out again—
   Take her out in ballast, riding light and cargo-free.
      And it’s time to clear and quit
      When the hawser grips the bitt,
   So we’ll pay you with the foresheet and a promise from the sea!

Heh! Tally on. Aft and walk away with her!
Handsome to the cathead, now; O tally on the fall!
Stop, seize and fish, and easy on the davit-guy.
Up, well up the fluke of her, and inboard haul!
  Well, ah, fare you well, for the Channel wind’s took hold of us,
   Choking down our voices as we ****** the gaskets free.
      And it’s blowing up for night,
      And she’s dropping light on light,
   And she’s snorting under bonnets for a breath of open sea,

Wheel, full and by; but she’ll smell her road alone to-night.
Sick she is and harbour-sick—Oh, sick to clear the land!
Roll down to Brest with the old Red Ensign over us—
Carry on and thrash her out with all she’ll stand!
  Well, ah, fare you well, and it’s Ushant slams the door on us,
   Whirling like a windmill through the ***** scud to lee:
         Till the last, last flicker goes
         From the tumbling water-rows,
      And we’re off to Mother Carey
      (Walk her down to Mother Carey!),
   Oh, we’re bound for Mother Carey where she feeds her chicks at sea!

After the storm,
the spider fine tunes its web-
spiraling inward,
plucking at strands
strung lyre-like
between the apple branches.
   Shrinking fingers of light
slip from the underbellies
of  low slung clouds
that stream by
nearly snagging the tree tops.
   The wind fills the web
like a jib stretched out
before the slapping bow of a ship.
   Meanwhile, our small planet
hurtles forward, circling
on strands of patient gravity
spun by God knows who or what.
   Satisfied with her spinning,
the spider finally
settles into place
at the center of a billowing universe,
waiting for some small
something to come sailing by.


Tom Spencer © 2017

Sitting in that cafe
was like sitting atop the tower of Babel
a cacophony of language
like a hurricane was going on all around him
the homeless black men
who spoke with their own jive and jib
he knew some of the language
but was far from fluent
there were the Arabian men
talking into blue tooths on their ears
or into cellphones
or arguing with each other
outside over cigarette after endless cigarette
nothing but harsh blunt sounds,
it was beautiful in a way
and there is the Russian couple
bombshell athletic blondes
it was hard to determine whether the relationship was
Mother and Daughter
or coach and athlete
they were seemingly
all business
broken with interspersed bouts of laughter
and their were the Asian boys and girls
coming from Korea or Japan or China, or some other place
talking fast and easy
gesticulating wildly with their hands
and of course their was English
thick and arrogant in its tone
it was a language for movers and shakers
money makers and deal breakers
it sounded nowhere near as special
as the other languages
And there was him
sitting silently in the corner of the cafe
his language
the chitter chatter of the keyboard

In the end,
It was a brief
Affair.
In the end
It was a ship
That fared....
Too full,
A draft too
Unsteady
To stay it's course
My perfect friend
And listing
O're the force
Of winds
That ripped
Her jib sails
To shreds
And small pins;
I full of pain
You, unable
To hold on....
Against the
Winds -
"A shame"
They'll say
Or maybe
Not
I know
I know
I know.......

In the fullness
Of time's course
We'll see
Our time
Entwined
Was far, far
too brief
To be......
You so full
Of fear
I so full of grief
But we loved free
That is true
And love, in itself
Can beat the tide
But only if
The mainsails' true
I know
I know
I know.........

Your tears were
No secret
To me,
Your wetted eyes
Let me know
You'd -
Had your fill
Of heart pain
And sorrow
And sometimes
We need to go
Aside ourselves
To heal the wounds
I know
I know
I know......

In the playing
Out of time
I'm sure
We'll appreciate
That we
Struck before,
Before the sea
Was ready
To endure us
And so the
The long rock
was struck
And strewn;
We loved
Too early
Or perhaps
Too soon
I know
I know
I know......

The hurt will
Come later
The movement
Changing slow,
My countenance
Will remain
The same
But my heart
Will lose it's glow,
To think
We may not sail again
It is the
End of the affair
I know
I know
I know........

I've learned to trace
The curves of your name
Through marks on my skin that were all too straight
And I've rubbed them raw-

Scarlet, aching, throbbing,
Irritated because of how many times I've dug my nails
Into the memory of you carved into my shoulder,
Or my wrist, thigh, hip...

The list goes on, and so do you,
Even when the licks of fire turn tamer, whiter, faded
With time that tries to give me relief but makes me
PANIC
Instead,
Because at least when it's all fresh,
I can hear your voice in my ear
And the cut of your jib is outlined by the cut on my... well, anything.

I want your fingers wrapped around my waist
But in my mind's clouded eye you pull away
Every time, and all I feel is rain drops on amber skin, and the blade grips ever tighter.

Normal girls who cry at night and not at sunset
Have stretch marks guiding their insecurity,
But I bet you've never been to a lido with your parents
After getting a new tattoo of a bitter I'll-never-know's name imprinted on your arm...

And if you have, well, you'll never tell me
Because even though I trace you every time I'm reminded of your seaside green glass eyes
I haven't looked the past in the face

Since the last time you said you'd see me soon.

So many eyes lay upon cursing skin
crevices grit, pockmarked with each thrashing intrusion
budding enthusiasm, awash, boiled...
suffer, oh suffer, green potato.

Crinkle cut?  Jib of glut!
manipulate form and function
stain of starch satisfaction...
coffer, oh coffer, oh cough, ahem, cough!
It ain't about money.

That's right, mustn't disturb the soil,
So many eyes lay upon cursing skin
crevices grit, pockmarked with each thrashing intrusion
budding enthusiasm, awash, boiled...
suffer, oh suffer, green potato.

A memory, distant, the taste of that green potato
rots in the kitchen... eat it, enjoy the flavour,
dine on discourse...
digest it,
bury it deep inside,
release it,
let it grow again.

Each of you.
My individual singularities, Dad’s One Thing.
Conceived 1955.
Driven home, progeny, made man, unequivocal, indisputable.
Post-war night spirits undaunted ~ stop ******* me.
*** for you, stopped me.
Can’t make it the way you want. Please stop.
Backing off, I respect real you.
Don’t push me Me.
Don’t dream.
Will dream us.
Short sentence for guilt whisked way beyond what crime could be.
We combine beans and seeds and gourds.
That’s science! Culinary!
Botany, true, but I’m enaturated.
Human pod progressed.
If that’s a word, don’t dream it’s not.
Forget every word.
But make each and every word count.
Then add stash, socked away.
I concede.
Mi casa su casa.
Paint it.
Together.
Made mistake then fixed it.
Copasetic dovetails, my lady and me (not I).
We walk talk island jib.
I like the cut of your yar across the moonlit pool.
Go around with me to all haunts, snow globetrotting shaken not stirred
My déjà vu in futurum videre, I can’t believe.
Asunder goddesses should be together,
While Isis and Osiris boogie like Beatrice and Dante encircled,
Their own private imbroglio invaded
By Goth end time alchemists conjuring copyrights for gelt.
You tell me this short story.
I cringe.
My mind clouds men’s, and then conjures Morpheus.
My shadow child joins me in Paradise,
Deliria dancing in concert with Shakespearean intent.
My daughter’s got more guts in one pinky
Than all that fallen pilot on our island bargained for
In the games that decided who’s hungrier.
You could have been that gal.

Packed away
fr fr from a speeding bullet
a night time bmx ride to the beach and back again
and again
she's in here
too far too fearless for you to survive this warmth
i'm not souless, just a girl in love
i made me own way here
there is no taxi cab awaiting my drunken ramblin
i am good in bed
i am happy for you
i fell apart a long time ago, ago, ago
i hear YOU scream
i am not that person long ago
you all fell in love with me
and it really it was not me
i decieved you with the cut of my jib
with the line of my skin
deep beauty within
ha hahaha hahahaaaaaa
i will have you
i won't want you
i won't want you
you drunk too much
you take far too much speed to be a queen
la la laaaa la alaaaa
you don't know this but it was not me
whisper me sweet nothings
i've been hurt before,
**** it,
they are nothing compared to you
my bittersweet tears were cried when i left you there
i left myself in your bed
and i knew you would hear me
and dream of me calling your name
i am a pill you hate to swallow
some nidnight ****
you begged and borrowed
to be happy....
are you such a thing?
no methinks not
and you know i know this
and i am in love with you
so deep, so hard i have fallen
2 hours was all it took
2 months was all it took
my world exploded in your hands
you couldn;t handle me
you could not handle this....
i am a cyclone of astute proportions
too much for your shallow heart to bear
and yet i am here
too much far gone
i am her shadow
the beat of her drum
the second glance of her dance moves
she looks at me...
and i can not look away
i knew before i met her
i knew when she got in the car
i knew before i met her
and **** me....
thats all i have to say

Years are mixing into decades like tasteless stew
while I sit here in the second floor of a double decker bus affiliated with universal energies that haven't been given names, and gods which haven't yet been killed over.
Sudden Spring makes me sentimental!  I daydream with my eyes shut and sunlight repeatedly washing over my face that Im racing on some enchanted eastern express en route to Benares while Lama peak Nepal is weakened with Earthquakes. Fallen monestaries still romanticized and newly forged in my mind. A few countries North, the radical religious groups are continuing the impractical path of world decay with frequent threats and televized beheadings.  We're guaranteeing ourselves a real apocalypse to save ourselves from a fake one!

Owls in suits recently drycleaned return home,  their bedroom drapes appear ethereal veils of cruelly false night-brides twirling from wind beating fiercely at the door. Next morning the
Hong Kong tram serrates the neon
acid streets where blankface ghosts are observing the hundred thousand faded shoes and wirey laces encircling the larger paths of Chinese cities like a hollow caffeinated sterile ball of yarn thrown over by the communist Cheshire cat. Bluehue sad sickness is the largest global airborne infection we all have to worry about!

Many Summers later, Debt and debt collectors are equal hell,
I'm home and showering off the society sweat and mutual bruises of some mundane corporate copy job where I copy and jab and jib and bob my head outta the sea of slate jaws and somber smiles. Everything has become a bore! The year is 2045 I'm growing gray and I feel like it, the world feels like it, too. Why did I let go of the poems? The rebel heroes in the 1960s who fought off nuclear holocaust with rhyme and meter?
We could really use that now!
Whatever happened to the soul of India budding in my veins and making me stiff with insatiable wanderlust? My prescription needs to be renewed and my passport expired two years ago. Nobody but the dead travel anymore and they aren't getting to their destination by plane. Those greenhouse gases really ****** us for good! All the aircrafts are now modern art and all my dreams are hidden in hypothetical fallout shelters crossing their fingers they survive before the generators power down on them.

Those past inspired goals faint and lifeless carried by anchors to underwater trenches. Back when my hair was down and long. Dandelions were polished in rainwater outside Vietnam Hostels encased in zipper basket backpacks on stock with incense,  teardrop ecstasy stains and cantinas filled on liquid dharma platinum with the zen seal bottlecap. Well off they go! hearts of an aspiring mahasattva sticking to the back ends of sticker stapled scooters gliding
down to the outdoor booths in Saigon.
As was expected, even the scooters were left to fizzle away in the cyclic guyas once all oil tapped out when I was 37.

Sedative Queens have tightened their authority on all of us and I'm sleepy in the wholes of days where thoughts barely catch wind off the finish line. Nobody is a firecracker anymore. Radios no longer work in closets!
I heard they used to. Radios worked anywhere.
All sound is dead. The angry ghost of an eighteen year old watches out his  kitchen window observing the approaching storm and listening to The Velvet Underground feeling like the world is gonna conflegrate to rock & rubble from the creamy ******* skies ready to drown us out.

Hepcat hideous mangled in gradual oppression diseases!
***** teen hormoned out of homosexuality, I thought we'd gotten past that ignorant belief!
Animal axed in syringe oblivion muscles tense then loose, consciousness BLANK.
Ozone overdosed on air miles and morning commutes, they said it would never happen!
Happiness hung on air, we've been told that our experiences depend on how we choose to perceive them, so maybe all this worldly wack has been my fault!
Dragons exist behind snowy beards contrast to a blood red tie sitting up on Senate! Why'd we been told they're make belief? They're burning everything down!

It feels like Summer no matter what season it is these days. Those Alaskans sure work a good tan!

All in all, years are mixing into decades like tasteless stew,

And we're running low on bowls.

517

He parts Himself—like Leaves—
And then—He closes up—
Then stands upon the Bonnet
Of Any Buttercup—

And then He runs against
And oversets a Rose—
And then does Nothing—
Then away upon a Jib—He goes—

And dangles like a Mote
Suspended in the Noon—
Uncertain—to return Below—
Or settle in the Moon—

What come of Him—at Night—
The privilege to say
Be limited by Ignorance—
What come of Him—That Day—

The Frost—possess the World—
In Cabinets—be shown—
A Sepulchre of quaintest Floss—
An Abbey—a Cocoon—

I don’t like how
hot
cold
empty
reminiscent
final
full
starting
this morning is
too easy
hard
open up an old book
it is never the same
she-
this is full and empty
I cannot find the in-between
just darting to and from
gluttonous and starving
I once found the in-between
held it closer than she holds hair
I straddle quest
I straddle settled
the only time we find the answers
is when we empty bottles
empty is just the other side of full
we crack bottles
over tombstones
they shatter
not full
nor empty
I am trying not to mourn destruction
birth
smiles
cigarettes
kisses
teardrops
I don’t want to capture
just earn
not full
nor empty
just be
I don’t like how
the last time we kissed
we were not cataclysm
nor inertia
I am trying to get back to her
without asking her to find me
not knowing how full our contents might be later
I know we’re empty,
pretending we are sailboats
filling out linens with as much misery as we can
calling it moving forward
in the corner of this body of water
I feel the breeze run through my hair
her fingers used to run through my hair
When the breeze comes
I tie the jib so I might reach somewhere else.
When I reach somewhere else it is
not different
from what had been left.

As so it was as we put to sea.
The Dark pirate captain and me.
Aboard a ghost ship decorated with bones and skulls.
I listened to hear creaking and the circling gulls.

Twas a dark and dismal day, with a ghost green sky.
Her main mast atop the Skull and Crossbones did fly.
Holes in her jib and Poseidon’s pitch fork on her main.
Our dark and treacherous ship was the high seas bane.

A purple fog hung over her deck, coiling and twisting.
Up the masts and sails dark spirit existing.
Born out of the ancient timbers and the toil.
Born out of heartbreak and roil.

I was first mate on this ship of the dead.
One and thirty nine hands that bled.
On the ropes and the sails.
On the harpoons and whales tails.

I counted 14 cannons on the decks.
I found more on a midnight check.
She had seven eighteen pounders deck under.
She shuddered and rolled from the thunder.

Listing to port or starboard from a volley.
Recoiling on the oaken dolly’s
No cannon ***** would touch her.
The purple fog protected those that were.

Aimed at her masts and broadside.
Swatting them into the deep I watched wide-eyed.
She deep sixed more ships than any other vessel.
Their captains hung from the stern trestle.

We came upon a man adrift in a whaling vessel.
The captain swung the ship around to nestle.
The small boat’s gunwales were shattered and torn.
Her occupant screaming wide eyed did warn.

“Avast your voyage twas Mermaids I fear!”
His face a ghostly pale and his eyes were queer.
The Captain brought him on board.
And he brought with him a fear that roared.

My Captain held him at the point of his sword.
The man’s eyes became as fire and he roared.
Deafening, it was out of his empty mouth it howled.
And with it the very air was fouled.

And the purple fog recoiled from this man.
Round and round on the decks it ran.
We all backed away from this apparition.
A horror straight away from Mariner’s superstition.

And he collapsed on the deck.
His pulse I did check.
And he did not have one.
I listened for his heart beat and there was none.

Filaments of his former self arose.
And Hung over his dead body close.
“Beware of White Cap Bay.”
“Tis where the Mermaids play.”

Came a watery cold voice upon the night air.
And we all stood there and stared.
His tortured soul wailing into oblivion.
And he passed on by aspiration.

Of these tiny stars that surrounded him.
And his likeness became dim.
And then he was gone.
The purple fog again was redrawn.

There was no body from whence this came.
Upon the deck where he laid, a blue flame.
And no man could extinguish it.
The Captain touched it with his sword, it split.

And became two, and ran off the starboard side.
“It’s gone!” the bosun cried.
We all stood there at the Captain we stared.
For the first time ever saw the Captain scared.

“Who’s afraid of some Mermaids Mates?”
“I like Mermaids more than pieces of eight.”
Our Captain said in a falsetto voice.
He did nothing to make our hearts rejoice.

And so we sailed dead ahead into the night.
And the crew held their fear with all their might.
A red litten gibbous moon to steer by.
The wind through the tattered sails sighed.

There came into view a huge rocky bay.
Bathed in the ethereal moon light lay.
To the starboard stood a huge stone monolith.
Surrounded by a ring of small obelisks.

And in its top there stood a giant mirror.
At first I thought its purpose unclear.
The closer we sailed I finally understood.
Twas a warning beacon if you would.

Harken to its brilliance unto its warning.
Listen unto its mourning.
And green sea foam licked round its base.
And the wind howled in its face.

And there were queer holes and vanes upon its top.
The wind sounded through the holes an octave drop.
Which made a strange, deep reverberation?
And it shook the deck and masts with strange gyration.

We dropped anchor in a quiet nook.
The Captain said “Lads let us look!”
And several of the old salts were superstitious.
And mumblings of spells and things malicious.

Ran through the crew like a runaway current.
For reasons of truth and things that weren’t.
Then the Captain became enraged.
Said he’d use his enchanted sword to engage.

Any man not worth his salt.
He’d be locked in the forecastle vault.
With the purple fog and the demons of the ship.
Forever in death’s grip.

So nary a man stayed aboard.
And we all crossed a small tidal ford.
And found ourselves again on dry land.
Our sea legs making it strange to stand.

We came to the monoliths huge door.
Adorned with strange hieroglyphs it bore.
Testament to some earlier time.
To some odd number prime.

I stepped into a gigantic hall that was lit with no light.
And I saw a most impossible sight.
A giant sapphire ball floating over a deep shaft.
It radiated beams of light from this strange craft.

It danced on the walls like a giant kaleidoscope.
The men were about to abandon all hope.
I saw a huge aperture above the ball.
That opened like an iris above the hall.

One of the men found an elevator of sorts.
And its doors had rows of oval ports.
And our Captain stepped inside.
And so the crew filed in wild-eyed.

We found ourselves walking out of a strange mist.
In a room atop the monolith.
A huge mirror affixed to system of lens of strange hue.
And I saw in polar equatorial it would slew.

And our Captain looked upon it with an uneasy eye.
“Tis a light house Capm,” came a wistful cry.
“Not like anyone I seen.. says I.”
The Captain touched one of its wheels, “Aye,.. aye.”

I saw upon the wall an imprint of a hand.
Surrounded by a solid gold band.
And it shown a deep blue.
Its color the same as the orb’s hue.

And the boson’s mate was about to touch the object.
“Hold fast there mate!” the captain checked.
“We dunno what that’ll do?”
A blue halo around his hand flew.

And it pulled his palm unto the wall.
And he could not remove it at all.
There came from under us a rumbling vibration.
The aperture was opening in measured gyration.

Upon the mirrors there came a column of light.
From the orb below a blue-gold blinding sight.
And its countenance you could not behold.
Through the lens and off the mirror it rolled.

And it beamed out upon the sea.
And the men were afraid and began to plea.
And it swung around on its own.
Like some mechanical drone.

Nothing human touched its controls and levers.
For it moved upon its own endeavors.
One of the men was standing above the rest of us.
The beam swung into him and he became dust.

Neither force nor the Captain could stand the men fast.
They ran for the elevator save the Captain for last.
Once again we were in the great hall.
The huge orb was making a strange call.

Calling the Mermaids of White Cap Bay.
Upon the rolling surf they did play.
There were mermaids too numerous to count.
Their passage we could not possibly surmount.

They all began singing as one.
Their mesmerizing melody begun.
These sirens from leagues of the deep.
Soon had us all at the edge of sleep.

The Captains enchanted sword did resist.
Upon our lips it did kiss.
A sharp blue spark awoke us all.
From the lilting Mermaids call.

One of them beckoned to me.
I could not move and I could not flee.
And she came out of the sea.
And was floating in front of me.

Sea-green eyes and golden hair.
A long slender nose and skin so fair.
High cheekbones swept back did blend.
Into her hair unto the end.

And small gold stars within her eyes did move.
In a fathomless green sea did prove.
Their test upon my soul.
Doing their best to take a toll.

On this sailors lost heart.
She weaves her black art.
And her teeth a row of ivory scimitars.
That sparkled in the light of the stars.

She called me by name.
And the gold stars in her eyes danced in green flames.
Her breath smelled like sea breezes and myrrh.
And it reminded me of better times that were.

Then she touched my face her touch wet and cold.
She drew fire out of me and glowed gold.
Upon the night.
As I beheld this wondrous sight.

And her touch was no longer cold.
The spot she touched me turned to gold.
Then she kissed me and I could not think.
The flames in her eyes danced and winked.

And so I was lost to this siren of the deep.
Then her sea-green eyes began to weep.
Mermaid tears upon my cheeks.
Diamond liquid from her eyes did leak.

All down my face and into my mouth.
Salty and sweet, like some wine from the south.
And I began to see sub-mariner sights.
And I soon forgot my own foolish plight.

“For I cannot stay here with thee.”
“For my life comes to me from within the sea.”
“Fear not for I can change thee if you see.”
And she pulled me into the pounding green sea.

So down we went into this emerald abyss.
And I found myself in some strange bliss.
And I could breathe in the sea.
And I felt a oneness within me.

And she beamed at me with her ivory smile.
And pointed at my legs for a while.
As I looked at my legs I was startled to see.
A large broad fluke attached to me.

I could hear her voice inside my head.
We talk this way underwater instead.
And we swam down to a sunken Galleon.
Its deck littered with gold and a medallion.

She reached down and picked it from the deck.
Submerged in the sea this old Spanish wreck.
I brushed away the barnacles and brine.
Etched into its face within fine lines.

I saw on its face inscribed a name.
A name from long ago clouded in fame.
Ponce De Leon from the Queen of Spain.
Her lost explorer who succeeded no gain.

And I saw all my shipmates swimming towards me.
The Mermaids converted them was easy to see.
The Captain looked odd with a large fluke tail.
And octopus tentacles from his face did flail.

He was still wearing his stupid three cornered hat.
The silliest sight I concluded that.
And my Mermaid swam up to me and took my hand.
“You do not belong here you belong on land.”

So we swam up from the emerald deep.
When we broke surface she began to weep.
“When you get old and turn to gray.”
“Come back to sea and we will play.”

And with that she dove down and swam away.
And I think about this Mermaid to this very day.
And in my hand I still held the medallion.
Taken from the deck of the old Spanish Galleon.

A gift to me from my lady of the sea.
At night the wind brings me her singing plea.
“Return my sailor return to me.”
“Return to your home under the sea.”

Now I’ve grown old and my hair turned gray.
And you doubt this tale from me you say?
And I swear it’s all true.
I’ll swear by my tattoos.

Dave Proffitt 2/7/2012




















.

There were tales told of mighty storms that oft battered this coast.
The howling gale that struck this night was more powerful than most,
The lifeboat crews had been stood down, Who would venture out in this?
They gratefully all headed home for a night of fireside bliss

A girl stood on a towering cliff her heart was filled with dread
Somewhere in that maelstrom was the one that she would wed
The sun had shone when he’d left home before a steady breeze
A day so full of promise, but nature gives no guarantees

This normally astute sailor did not see the sky turn grey
His mind was on the woman, tomorrow their wedding day.
He was dragged back to the present by the sudden icy rain
The boat steadied, then surged forward, a ****** at the helm again

He quickly trimmed and set his sails to run before the gale
The speeding boat fighting gamely under the minimum of sail
Ten miles out man and boat still face the wrathful sea
With storm jib filled, and main full reefed he raced towards his bride to be

The man can see the lights of home, he’s just five miles from shore
With a fearsome ‘Crack’ the hull was split. Man and boat could do no more
Standing on the lonely cliff the girl sees his boat go under
She screams her pain into the night as her heart is ripped asunder

She takes a slow step forward towards the cliff edge high and sheer
Facing a life without her lover the drop can cause no fear
Her other foot moves forward, She is on the final ledge
Another tearful shuffle forward has her on the very edge

One more step. Into the void and she plummets like a stone
The sea has claimed her loved one but he shall not lie alone
As a wave approaches the stony cliff it draws a watery breath
Before crashing, straining, weeping falling above the lovers joined in death

Run before the wind
Pay out the mainsail and jib
Desire strongly gusts

Warmly hour's
Bring me thy sun showers,
Calmly flower's
Wrap around mine veins.....
Sway to the clouded path
Down the dark hall,
Sweet boutique renaissance
Reminisce with me,
On clouds!!!!
Shaded grey
I seeketh thee not....
I'm no slave
To the could've had,
Could've not....
I'll be me
No different,
Lover of high hope.
I'll fly the band of love,
Cavort the minstrel stage.
Pivotol of all being
Just being in the moments cave...
Not expecting
Just waiting on what is...
Loving til mine spirit bleedeth,
Hung up on bliss.
Graced by God
Committing all mineself
Giveth all to other's.......
Tis,
No seeking back the help...
For I'm guided by the soul
It taketh me many places
Showeth me different era's
Wherein I shalt meet a thousand faces...

Drive your car up to the gooseneck and tie the lazy end of traveler up with wire and linemen
Take the working end of the traveler and tie that up with a rope, with the other end of the rope tied to the car
Clip the well wheel to the jib or tie arm and raise the car to pick up the traveler
Once the traveler is loose from the gooseneck, remove it and put it in the car
Loop the cable around the well wheel
loosen the rope until the traveler hangs from the well wheel
drive the car up until you have reached the next position drive and be careful about the wire tied to the lazy end
once you have reached the next position put the gooseneck back on the tower
drive past the gooseneck
tie a rope back around the working end and another around the lazy end of the traveler and wrap the other end of each rope around the tower
The ropes control the slack of the traveler
Lower the traveler onto the gooseneck
lower the car until the traveler hangs from the tower, keep tension on the ropes
remove the traveler from the well wheel, transfer it back to the gooseneck
now slowly loosen the ropes until the cable is hanging from the gooseneck again
now tie off the cable to the tower with wire using linemen
as you drive the car down continue to tie off the lazy end with wire
when you get to the donkey **** tie a rope around the cable below it and loop the other end around the car
slightly pick the cable
tie of wire below and above the donkey **** using the linemen
secure the cable to the tower with wire so that there is not too much strain on the donkey ****
make sure the donkey **** will not hit the car or trolley as they drive past it
loosen the rope from the cable and continue to drive the car down
drive the car down
go home

Pull in the sheets,
trim the tiller,
shifting to the other rail,
light airs prevail, the
sails they luff.

Seeking the wind,
Cat's paws to Starboard
Hard-a-lee tacking to Port,
the breeze she comes,
boom shifts, helm heels
over, sails crack and fill.
Reef in the Jib, slack off the main.
She digs in, laying her rail
into the water, riding on the
seas thin knifes edge again,
the keel rises, steadies her passage.
We fly!

Ah, fair winds, sailors delight,
pleasant sailing, safe harbor ahead.
No greater joy than to sail and muck
about in boats on blue water.

Freedom achieved, intensely felt.

He sits under that apple tree
on gnarly knoll beside the glade.
He thinking, haven't I done well
with the decisions he had made.

The first I heard that male voice
just droning on about his Rib.
The thing is though if I complain
his face exudes a lamented jib.

He calls me Woe-Man just for fun
and reckons now his troubles start.
Thinks I have got it all my own
when all he does is Moan and ****.

God told him I was called Woman
this name provides him with a joke
at my expense amusements aim.
Its aim to hurt and cause provoke.

His rib he gave with good intent,
perhaps he should of dwelt upon
the reasons for such hankerings.
I do believe a selfish one.

This man whom needed company,
so afraid of being alone
wanted something to rule upon.
Something to order and to own.

In his mind there was no doubt.
Sharing his home with such a one.
This Paradise that he calls home
will be so different when I’m done.

Expected handmaid I shall not
if he thinks this is what I be
a shock is coming so immense.
The man is blind but soon shall see.

Paradise they call this place.
I had no choice in coming here.
But now I am I make the most.
And certainly wont live in fear.

He’s quite attractive to the eye.
He makes his creator a good son.
There are many things I can improve
like make him put some trousers on.

I only ask him for one thing.
The smallest favour is all I ask.
In his deluded simple mind
he turns this into such a task.

That apple hanging true and bright
gleaming in the mid-day sun.
I yearn to taste a little bite
but he says No! and thinks he’s won.

He plies me with every other crop
but mind is set on other fruit
he tells me this is God’s demand
but in my mind I’m resolute.

I only have one friend in life.
Charming serpent of my acquaint.
Such an helpful companion
but evil is what my man must paint.

My serpent friend is always ready
to help me gain my aims in life.
Reminds me that my husband should
show some allegiance to his wife.

I wonder how, if I withdraw
with certain charms that I do hold.
This will change his manly mind
and leave him feeling that I'm cold.

I swoon around in tender pose,
temptation broiling in his mind.
Portraying naked silhouette
with glistening breast and smooth behind.

Positioned touch in private place
his temperature wont take much more,
he’ll soon pay with forbidden fruit.
The price he pays to bed his *****.

Resolve is lessening by the hour,
too make sweet love will surely sway.
He’ll promise anything for this
a price that he shall dearly pay.

Eventually my way is won,
the fruit positioned at my feet.
I got my way his will undone
but apple tastes so far from sweet.

I know not where my friend has gone.
To lose a friend is far from good
then God turns up so far from pleased
and chases us from gardens wood.

Cast from Eden is our fate
our goods and home suddenly gone.
Evicted we pathetic pair
just us to walk this world alone.

Why didn’t I listen to that man
instead of taking serpents phrase.
Perhaps I may of listened more
if only he had shed some praise.

Is there a moral I can say
to help others if I can.
If only I had remained a rib
there'd never be another man.

At 16 I met a Man who owned
A sailing Craft a 24 foot Yawl
A Polished Captains Wheel to Steer
Two Main sails a Jib and two Fore Sails
He had an Affair with a girl 18.....
And I was the Beard

He taught me to sail the craft,
Follow the wind with the Tell Tale
Fair Taught, you Kept the sail
Follow the wind till the End,
Swing the sail boom, to tack back again

He always bought Hot Peppered Crab
And a 12 pack of National Beer
Once he took it out the Middle River
He would take her below for whispers
With me at the wheel, I sailed the Bay
My Love of the Boat and he for her,
Were both, Same in a way

The Ship she was my lover
And to him I was his Cover
For a 30 Year old Husband
And an 18 Year old Girl
Sailing in the Summer Sun
I watched the sails a Furl

Taught with wind, she veered to Lee
Sailing till waves rolled up from the Sea
And that's when she Picked up Speed
I would tighten up the boom line.

The only sounds  flap of the Sails
And The creak of the Rope
Beneath the Moon so Pale
On a Warm Summers night sail

A summer I'll Never Forget
And the Tragedy of her Death
As she Drove for home her car crashed
Her hopes for her life Dashed
And that I lost my friend I regret....

Sharpen the knives and load the guns, empty another keg of ***. Beat the drums and pull the cannon taught. Trim the sail and hoist the jib. Fly the black flag from the rigging. Turn into the wake, and head for our prize. Laden with gold and pieces of eight. Taste the salt spray we can hardly wait. Laying siege to a treasure ship. Come on now don't let her slip away. Mark your lines and make your aim true. There is still a good deal to do, before we can line our pockets with loot. Swing the wheel hard around, hear the cannon pound on the hull of the unsuspecting ship. Thunder echos across her decks, throw the grappling hooks and what the heck. With a cutlass and pistol I take to the fight, and if my luck is just right, I will have my fill of pirates ***** tonight. Gold doubloons and pieces of eight, my won't the ladies think I am great, when I sack this ship and return from the raging main.  So on me hearties and cut them down, Davy Jones watches them going down. Singing the pirates song as we go.

Catching a star, rushing forward the frigate,
Through the storm ahead, the bowsprit of his high,
But ahead all the same abyss without borders,
The desert of black waters in silence of latitudes.

Cracks and groans bom-topgallant topmast,
Chiseling strong ezelgof,
Mars and Ray converged with parrel in battle,
With a dream - to get rid of the shackles.

The wave growls, rolling terribly,
And with the power of the wind jib-boom mast on the beats,
And a low, menacing sound of the cello,
It is suddenly heard from the blackening heights,

That drill groans together with a heavy wind,
The key of the forgotten Symphony are trying to find,
And torn violin strings - moaning times through the centuries,
And killed the brave men among depths.

The thunder storm is rushing with noise, howling,
Shaking stars in heavens,
And the thunder echoes it a disparate,
And the frigate is hurtling on the sails.

Now moored in the dark bays
My ship in the dark days
Sailed light in the wild seas.

The fresh winds that blew in
off the keys
paid no fees nor no duties
those beauties were wild.

We.
In the child that is time
got drunk on cheap whiskey
and drank even more wine.
And sailed on.

We.
were the gone in 'begone with you'
a Devils brew of a troupe
on a sloop with no flag.

Dragging my heels a bit
in a suit of the age
that cannot fit.
It's not cut for this jib
Which is even more of a fib
that is scratched in the journal with ink and with nib.

Here I tie up and stay in the bay of my birth
My final berth and it's fitting
that in this bay where I sit on the sloop
that the loop of my life keeps on playing,
relaying those wild crazy times in 'the Carolines'
or on the 'Main'
Standing, 'man on the wheel'
life is just one big reel
Always one more destination
Just one more salutation
then I go.

Sanmati, my guide, though is callow
Abnormal not in knowledge, not a bozo.
Negotiates well joy broad or narrow;
Merry as a lamb, sharp as an arrow –
Agile as a gymnast, as sweet as a cello.
Time and again found, never let her gizmo,
Ignoring angry love or any strict credo
Jib her down to cry and sit quietly in shadow.
Almighty will design her future like dido
Illuminating the world with skills and less ego.
Never be dull or extra-ordinary – no one follow.

i was is my hands drugs)!
         evaporating splendorous
      sugar canes
                            the ruby of muscled
hell
             and discharge of sinuous
      marvels

                when the fat skinny
is in vulnerable propagation
       a cloud
                       gilded
    and spake "
                             you are sweat and pain and tenuous ,
  meet thy shall i when thous tedious crumb
        is spent human shell by the ground
          resting in loose solid soil
            bath and"
                                             thus
      rattled the increment of
                                                   lovely      and kind

         death      whom
                                              i       argue
          upon daily
                                    and

                                                      make

in the extremity of my ladies passionate jib
          my current cells
              speak loudly the name
                                                     of life
             in her vambrace
                                           of muddled pink
intoxication. my ex cellent fauld

Those Orcas that just got out of frame
fame and fortune in that shot-glass 'Sound'
and focused; coke-bottle vision into depths
far deeper than their soundings, though
secondary in nature and posed as opposed
to that pod's posse of curving mammals
arched into each wave or trough
in that fluid home we call Puget
with the sound of ferry engines
breaking the silent sail boat's cut
and jib as it too arcs its slack in black/white
canvas waving to windward destinations,
as each click-shutter-whirl encapsulates
drops of sun, sea gull and horizon
ghosting as though mist were sky
semi-filled number painting panoramas
and water-color soaked landings
bringing us closer to docked domains
and they disappeared into a dimpled surface
evading this circular myopic lens

-cec

This bark's outlasted
The wintery blast,
But at the cost
Of the main mast.
Raise the spiniker
And the jib,
Hoist a sail,
Man the pumps,
There's no good reason
To jump - just yet;
We're temporarily adrift
Searching for a friendly shore
To lay anchor deep,
Waiting for your
Lighthouse eyes
To show the way home.

There are things that are better left unsaid; like when I asked you to leave, you left, even though the tears brimming in my eyes were begging you to stay.
When the door closed shut behind you, I had to swallow the lump down my chest, get a hold over my emotions and carry out with my daily routine without a mere mention of your name.
And then, do you know what I did at night? When the house was empty and only the moon could witness my vulnerability from the open window, I decided to let it all out. Once and for all. I cried till my cheeks started burning because of all the tears that I harshly wiped off. I wanted to torture myself so I replayed the memory of you leaving over and over again in mind. I howled in pain while clinging onto your old favorite tee shirt which I gifted to you on your last birthday.
I tried to calm myself so I brushed my fingers through my hair, like you used to whenever I was anxious. No medicine could compare to the magical power that your warm touch possessed.
And the next morning I found myself lying on the floor with a broken bottle of whiskey. The broken shards of glass seemed so appealing. But I knew self harm wasn't an option so I tried to stand up and get ready for the day. I went to work, my friends made a jib about how my hair looked funny, they had no idea that you left and it was me who had asked you to leave. I couldn't control my emotions so I left for home.
But even at home I felt homeless. I couldn't control the tears, and I cried harder than I did on the night before. My plan of not shedding another tear for you failed miserably. I opened my phone gallery and clicked on my favourite picture of yours and talked to the inanimate object. Begging and pleading you to come back.
I guess your absence is nothing but my penance. Something that I must suffer silently and all alone.

i dance with this one
until sweat on temples
heart doubles its drum

i dance with this one
swinging, swaying
shooshing, smiling
singing only the lines
i know

mumble the rest

i dance with this one
father's choreography
not quite ready for
broadway

i dance with this one
in lieu of lactating *******
a sing song blue eyed mother
who can only enchant

i dance and jib and jive
and bounce and slide
to dam the rainy river, to
ebb the tide

i dance for you
my ophelia
my daughter of movement
and song