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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-04/9:56 AM
The scent of death has been upon me for many years now, lingering intently about my groin, like the shining lobster that got wedged behind my fridge; a prawne-like vulture circling its prey. As the days come and go, and the green trees of youth fade to browne, I am left cold, and alone. Naked against the black oils of time, slick to the skin, and wishing my absurdly dry exoskellington had absorbed less balm. Death is before me now; death and oblivion. And then nothing will matter, save for the final cry of anguish as my Wheeled Chair hurtles off the cliff, and my wither'd backside soaks into dust, fusing with the very essence of nature, finally fulfilling its soiled destiny.




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