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Captain Cannibal (Free verse) by Lenore

Murder! Have you ever heard the like As they always do in stories of a shipwreck found at night? Where survivors are floating for days on a raft; I remember the ghastly bits on the mast Where the last surviving sailor had helped eat the whole crew; He claimed he was the captain it was a good joke too, Depends on who’s the victim; The point of view counts for a heap in such things, You’d laugh yourself sick to know what it brings Starvation holds water better than your boat, When every plump and tender sailor keeps your stomach afloat No roast albatross for dinner For they gave you the slip, Your only choice left, Potluck or the dip All that last night, He sailed upon sluggish water, Covered with rotting flesh, Rank and stagnant pools of seamen Whispered by ghosts of dead comrades Carried on moonlit currents, All the water black with blood and shadow, Drifting westward homeward bound He came so near to broken, but his soul would not sink down Though he killed them as they lay there, And gnawed upon their bones, The tide of might had risen and brought him safely home

-=Dark_Angel=-, P.I. 27-Jan-04/4:02 AM
You're all wrong, and you're all grotesquely ugly freaks. None of my poemes are open to interpretation, or any sort of guff like that; they merely relate factual events and experiences that befell my childhood years. Granted, I do have three poemes on the Worst list, and said poemes have been there for almost two years now, but that doesn't mean my opinions aren't valid! All opinions are valid, even the invalid ones! Sure some poemes are open to interpretation, and they might even be good poemes, but why can't a poeme just be a description of something? What's wrong with communicating something specific in a poetic way? The idea that a poeme is necessarily better because it is open to interpretation is buncombe. People just say that because they listen to art critics and nod knowingly, and then prance around the place saying things like "Huxley's 'nappy' is a bold encapsulation of the cultural effluence stagnating a leaking society". Pish! Fipsy! Buncombe!

Huxley's 'nappy' may well be all those things, and more, but there is one thing Huxley's 'nappy' is not: It is not a proof that vagueness is a necessary characteristic for good art. Husks are.




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