R
Roger Dodger
Enjoy! My first pinata whack at poetry-ish writing since.. ever. Read at Dread's last October.
After a black month at sea a single port opens her arms
So with tatty canvas afire and pine splintered
Spinnaker lost, keel shot away
Scuppers draining the blood of my crew
our wake trailing smoke and hunters, with holds full
Cannon deaf, weary, savaged
We run.
The lone port smiles her black tooth smile as we furl sails and come to her
By landing we conjure life from sure death, the pirate's eternal parlor trick
Our living cheerful, our dead muted and mourned
Lost men whose widows just might at darkest midnight feel the caress of their true love's phantom hand
Stretched from across an ocean separating life from nothingness and know their buccaneer has crossed.
The widow always knows.
Land. Punishing sun and a blizzard of gulls
Ashen faces of bloodied mates. Gun smoked faces.
Raggedy clothes, frozen with salt
We shuffle and limp on to the dock works, pilings of oily heartwood stabbed into dead silt
Sea legs shaking. Blood grief draining and yet
Radiant gems swelling our pockets, the poison fruit paid for by stilled navy hearts
I squint leeward to see Hunters circle, silent and patient. Tacking in the eye of the wind
So I cry onwards men, onwards. Come ashore.
For I believe we are in Tortuga Abassa.
We move ashore. Ahead, a hostile barricade looms, scowling heads shaking, hateful glares
Over there: slouched dreamers wearing halos of AFK
Haughty piratas on rotting crates stand high, preening and preening
Checking nails, endlessly checking nails.
And everywhere… thoughts shared and endless babble We press through. Golden whispers flicker. Do we have a GF?
Another whispers... Fight me. Fight me!
Whispers upon whispers, cruel and loving and taunting, few sincere
Guild promises come forth and form like smoke, rising but neverlasting.
A white wall of noise wraps around my crew. We ignore and limp upland.
For we are in Tortuga Abassa.
From boiling sea to burning sand we pace on
Through the shimmer we spy thatched rooftops, motley but trim across this short wasteland.
A pub!
Tortuga sand searing feet, we hobble on, a show for the dry ocean of glaring faces, preening. Endless.
Flashing cutlasses spin around us. Children's voices wheeling and jumping, jumping, jumping
Shouts and curses, Children's voices.
Invitations mount. Fight me, fight me!
Do I want a GF? Will I PVP?
Nonsense upon nonsense, a beached circus. Our numbers thin.
A mate falls to a nameless guild. We mourn, then curse these veiled rogues
Another, seeing false mermaids, says aye. I believe I do need a GF!
Never to be seen again, except in the Book of face.
It's complicated.
Another. Hearing the siren song of jumper rules, is gone, is gone.
Across the burning sand we move
Unknown pirates shamble towards us, empty of mind, soul. Farting!
Hulking infants spin like mindless tops set in motion by a lunatic
Thought bubbles appear and cloud the blue sky, with mutterings untroubled by logic or sense
the empty utterances of the unlearned mob. What is this madness we have entered?
We are in Tortuga Abassa.
Rough salted hands grasp my shoulder. Turning, my last crew member stands firm and planted, resolute
Captain. Captain. He gazes at me, then looks around. I join him.
We stand still, we look and we see:
Pirates glare and spin and check nails, empty of thought and purpose
Thoughts block the sun and assault all good sense. Preening upon preening
Language mangled beyond ken scrolls on and on
Glitchers stand proud, their form bereft of soul and honor
A circus, a wasteland, an infant's dream of pirate life
We make our decision together, turning about. We leave Tortuga Abassa.
Towards the green circle.
Toward the brine and wind and tattered remains of our frigate.
Towards our death
And make with all speed for the Hunters that await us, our enemies and equals, who we understand.
After a black month at sea a single port opens her arms
So with tatty canvas afire and pine splintered
Spinnaker lost, keel shot away
Scuppers draining the blood of my crew
our wake trailing smoke and hunters, with holds full
Cannon deaf, weary, savaged
We run.
The lone port smiles her black tooth smile as we furl sails and come to her
By landing we conjure life from sure death, the pirate's eternal parlor trick
Our living cheerful, our dead muted and mourned
Lost men whose widows just might at darkest midnight feel the caress of their true love's phantom hand
Stretched from across an ocean separating life from nothingness and know their buccaneer has crossed.
The widow always knows.
Land. Punishing sun and a blizzard of gulls
Ashen faces of bloodied mates. Gun smoked faces.
Raggedy clothes, frozen with salt
We shuffle and limp on to the dock works, pilings of oily heartwood stabbed into dead silt
Sea legs shaking. Blood grief draining and yet
Radiant gems swelling our pockets, the poison fruit paid for by stilled navy hearts
I squint leeward to see Hunters circle, silent and patient. Tacking in the eye of the wind
So I cry onwards men, onwards. Come ashore.
For I believe we are in Tortuga Abassa.
We move ashore. Ahead, a hostile barricade looms, scowling heads shaking, hateful glares
Over there: slouched dreamers wearing halos of AFK
Haughty piratas on rotting crates stand high, preening and preening
Checking nails, endlessly checking nails.
And everywhere… thoughts shared and endless babble We press through. Golden whispers flicker. Do we have a GF?
Another whispers... Fight me. Fight me!
Whispers upon whispers, cruel and loving and taunting, few sincere
Guild promises come forth and form like smoke, rising but neverlasting.
A white wall of noise wraps around my crew. We ignore and limp upland.
For we are in Tortuga Abassa.
From boiling sea to burning sand we pace on
Through the shimmer we spy thatched rooftops, motley but trim across this short wasteland.
A pub!
Tortuga sand searing feet, we hobble on, a show for the dry ocean of glaring faces, preening. Endless.
Flashing cutlasses spin around us. Children's voices wheeling and jumping, jumping, jumping
Shouts and curses, Children's voices.
Invitations mount. Fight me, fight me!
Do I want a GF? Will I PVP?
Nonsense upon nonsense, a beached circus. Our numbers thin.
A mate falls to a nameless guild. We mourn, then curse these veiled rogues
Another, seeing false mermaids, says aye. I believe I do need a GF!
Never to be seen again, except in the Book of face.
It's complicated.
Another. Hearing the siren song of jumper rules, is gone, is gone.
Across the burning sand we move
Unknown pirates shamble towards us, empty of mind, soul. Farting!
Hulking infants spin like mindless tops set in motion by a lunatic
Thought bubbles appear and cloud the blue sky, with mutterings untroubled by logic or sense
the empty utterances of the unlearned mob. What is this madness we have entered?
We are in Tortuga Abassa.
Rough salted hands grasp my shoulder. Turning, my last crew member stands firm and planted, resolute
Captain. Captain. He gazes at me, then looks around. I join him.
We stand still, we look and we see:
Pirates glare and spin and check nails, empty of thought and purpose
Thoughts block the sun and assault all good sense. Preening upon preening
Language mangled beyond ken scrolls on and on
Glitchers stand proud, their form bereft of soul and honor
A circus, a wasteland, an infant's dream of pirate life
We make our decision together, turning about. We leave Tortuga Abassa.
Towards the green circle.
Toward the brine and wind and tattered remains of our frigate.
Towards our death
And make with all speed for the Hunters that await us, our enemies and equals, who we understand.