Deep churning of the chords conjure some words
Silence is smothered without much regret
Their eyes are smudged as commotion blurs
Pierced through the heart the other’s bayonet.

Waves clash, splintering the bases of boats
Combustible like flame to hydrogen.
Captains Oh Captains at each other’s throats
Depriving each other of oxygen.

But gusts of statements, drafts of insults cease
As anger takes flight from its creation
Leaving behind ‘reaming white tears of peace
And the nagging feel for quick translation.

And as the sun rises in the morrow
Captains will know the reaping of sorrow

He went looking for Pace-Maker Mary
and found her with Dollar Jane.
Who’s to blame?

She said it was none of his business
She said she’ll see whom she pleases
She said she was tired of men
and especially tired of geezers.

She said she wanted a new life
one without the ******.
It gave her the blues to be always in shoes that hurt her heels and sciatica.
That it was nice for a change to be the one with the game
the one who’s doing the chasing.
And if that don’t sit she don’t care a bit
now excuse me my Janey is waiting.  

But he’ll wait forever for Pace-Maker Mary
however long it takes.
He’ll bide his time
until he finds
the thing that makes her tick.

There isn't enough time  in the day to reiterate what I have said before.
My words would be as long as the circumference of the milky way
But like the center of milky way, its too distant so its unheard.
I acknowledge that this poem is a ripple of the former ripple which was a former ripple of the byproduct of heartache but its creation, this reiteration is all I have left.

The orange ambushed the tip of my tongue
my tongue felt the keen sting of acidity.