untitiled (20/12/07)

know this

I plan to take to the seas

sulk in salty oceans creak in a vessel

wind gloomy captured in a dusty chant

'The blinging old oceans will always blang and that's the life for me'

Aye me,

a pursuit against the transgressions of man

in all his seriousity

Sailing under mirth's banner, haw - hawing the stinking ocean,

become stained with ocean - smarts on rum

sustaining terrible injuries and scars

and thus mapping out the oceans

on my skin through time and every day

drunk on every dawn

climb the crow - nest and shout at the sun

and come aport seldom for there are few things more bitter and sinister than those which lie ashore.

There are few real sea folk left

and they smoke with the anger of guns

as do we all,

the Arabian Shriek slam - shutted iron - bolted the gate

shat in our nappies

made us faeries, pixies, imaginary, smokeless

a mischevious menace trapped in an Ocean of Concrete

mostly calling for The Black Heart of George Bush,

scourge of the granite seas

or the Black Heart of any emperor of sorrow

in the world that doesn't flow.

Knowing that underneath my ribs

I carried the Black Heart of George Bush

beating to the drum of any heart

I took myself out

To the Giant Freedom,

to the Big Old Blue to be lost.

Every night I drink, splayed on the creaking bows

a playful wind blowing

a song rolling around my head

'Rum and laughter on moonlit nights,

that's the life for me.'

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