He goes to the basement, without a word he flys
To grab a sufficent sourse of numbness
To write freely and speak not so clearly
But to engage of times of the unknown and times of Modern times
The weather tide, the things of our demise
And the music rides, and the glass clinks
Goodbye to on time
hello to sweet dreams highs

Rummy is a card game
*** isn't for the hard weak
It's not win to fame when you're
Slugging back ***

It's not fun, it gags and try's to overthrow your reflexes
To misconcept your reasons
Why *** is for pirates and not for mere kitchen writers

Green as the pirate seas Caribbean,
her eyes pulsate with the thundering surf.
Majestic squall, power most stygian,
lurks just beneath the surface of her mirth.

The salt-filled breeze, a warm westward phantom,
imparts its lazy life to flaming locks;
brushes the kisses that from angels come,
caresses lips, a smile that faintly mocks.

Tropical dress clings to a body lithe,
swaying gently on the sand-covered dune
gazing at the sea, a creature of myth
spoken of in countless stories and rune.

Enchanted, I am drawn to my Siren.
She sings for me alone - the least of men.

I can't deny it anymore.
I am in love with you.
I didn't fall mind you.
I chose this.
I chose you.
And I can't help but feel
that I have chosen wrong.
That I have chosen too soon.

And it didn't help
that you chose me as your beta.
As your apprentice.
As your most trusted photographer.
Didn't help
that you nursed
all of my fangirl tendencies.
Didn't help that you claimed
to be my alpha,
my coach,
my captain.
Didn't help that you made me feel
like it is just the two of us in the pack.
Didn't help that you
verbalized my feelings
and told me
there is only us in the crew.
That I am your first mate.
The co-captain of a ship
That only the two of us can set sail.

The only thing is...
I am the only one shipping us.
And one day, you'll go canon
with someone else.
And believe me darling,
those canons can sink our ship.

Eyes are the windows to the soul
Is that why they are called blinds?
To blind the world of our messes
Our distresses as we distrust.
To hide from judgement, expectations
From speculating agencies
To close separating realities
What's yours stays yours and what's mine has been buried in the basement
No x will mark that treasure

Straight from the horses mouth
Doesn't it imply more than bit or bridal?
A brides tale of how it was meant to be
Her dreams of borrowed blue and new
Blue skies cloud minds and fog memories
Of what she once knew of who she once held
Who was always him forever
Where he went was inconsequential
Gone, so she pushes back the memories Burying them deep
No x will mark that treasure

The early bird gets the worm
But isn't still too late for the worm?
Too late for a change of plans
To change the exchanges we've shared
To shift how we will be remembered
With fluttering morning wings
Mourning the loss of loved ones
Tears shed falling lightly in the grass
Seeping into earth and resting on wooden surface six feet below
No x will mark that treasure

the saltiest
sea-iest
piratiest pirate
that ever roam the waters
bush did 9-11

I admit
that I pillaged
your Facebook page
for more
of your pictures.

Forgive me.

I couldn't
help myself.

Not doing so
would have been
like walking
on a beach
covered with
sparkling gems
and not bending
to pick them up.

Forgive me.

I am too much
of a pirate
to pass up
such treasure.
   ~mce

"They admire us" a bucktoothed pirate
stinking liquor and wearing  clothes unwashed
straight for an year at least, beams
with such ill founded pride;
pirates are called other names
that sound ironically like accolades!
Protective Gods wielding punitive powers too,
on the other hand, did you notice,
are feared like autocratic patriarchs,
and hated secretly for their temper,
a long standing problem, this! a clear case of
warped  human imagination, I'd  guess
why not God almighty, find some time
to set right this one problem vexing us for so long!