This is a poem from a captain's log on and old Itailian galleon who's mission was to search out ghost ships and fuck up the unholy assfucks who inhabit them.
in restless nights, during endless tired
never can one be so inspired
but so hard it is to sweat feelings to page
to make a pen bleed, squeeze, fingers rage
this room's light, amber and pale
like my Vanessa's tattered, frail sail
and my mind stays clear for I am her captain
preparing men for harships due to happen
admirable men, these men at my service
fine whiskey, wine and meat, they surely deserve it
for each death they've seen, their friend, their best
I pin a weight and measure to my chest
far to many nights have we have spent at sea
we chase sunsets failing light, to Tripoli
towards the crew's Lebanese wives, their children, their lives
and love is the only thing I can see in their eyes
it's with the moon's rise we have our fight
tearing apart the horrors of ocean's night
for we're the keeper of the sea's lost souls
men drowned miserably, who did not have their toll
a terrible form the soul of a man can take
when he passes unreadily in seawater's wake
like a ghost, a ghoul, undead from the grave
a murderous soul which only holy steel can save
for six months we are deployed on the water
searching for signs of ghostly, green slaughter
when we find a site we drop anchor and wait
we grow anxious to meet the wailing souls we will take
GOING TO WORK ON THIS A LOT MORE. Fucking badass ship captain and crew hunting GHOST SHIPS? No fucking way.
Monday, August 30, 2010
hey guys
I just recently got this blog and still need to figure out how to do everything.
bear with me!
bear with me!
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