Mutiny – edit.

Inherently Meaningless

I’m a mariner who’s lost at sea
And my notches in the stern
Tell me it’s been fifty days
I left my love on the shore
Sandy beaches I can’t recall
Solid ground is now fantasy
And with each passing day
The crew gets more restless
The whispers of mutiny grow
In the hold beneath the deck
Captain’s quarters closing in
My vessel moans and groans
As she’s tossed round the ocean
Seaworthy legs holding sturdy
In the midst of the turbulence
And the dull roar of betrayal
The crew, just like my lover
Are tired of waiting this out
Supplies and spirits waning
I know I haven’t got any time
Another day and another notch
They’ve taken me in the night
And bound my feet and hands
Led by torchlight to the plank
Hungry sharks circling below
Pushed off the edge, I plunge
Into the cold black ocean

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she said I’m in need of a distraction
something to fill up my mind
something to occupy my time

they come at me when I least expect it
with teeth like the night
and long slithering tongues
cold and unforgiving like the wind
wrapping itself around me
and pulling me in, in, in

the sheen of hungry golden eyes
slatted and slanted morning sunlight
through the hollows of the beast
he’s not feeding on me
but rather the fear I carry
the host within the host

I’ve gotten myself lost again
wandering down dark halls that twist
shapes form and fade in the shadows
my hairs standing at attention
the cold steel sword of fear
tracing along the back of my neck

she said I’m in need of a distraction
something to occupy my mind
but I’m about to lose my head again

The Insistence of Loss

the pale yellow sunlight
flickers through the fog
while my feet carry me
on and on and on
the distance covered
and so much more to go
not sure if I’m counting
in meters, miles or years
still, it persists as we age
more inevitable, unavoidable
finally, inescapable it becomes
we’re always aware
but never prepared
and it can strike us down
when we’re feeling our strongest
battles, trials and tribulations
some of us experience it young
those of us that may never recover
but always it gives us pause
as pale yellow sunlight
flickers through thinning fog
and my feet carry me
on and on and on

The Patient

The Doctor is in
I’ve been feeling light-headed
I’m the balloon floating sky-high
Far, far below a small speck cries
His tiny hands just couldn’t grasp
They’ll console and he’ll forget

Now, I’m wayward
Going anywhere the wind blows
Afraid I’ll be caught along the way
Among the trees their spears bared
One jab from the sharp sentinels
I’d be done for and he’ll forget

The Doctor just listens
I feel them writhing all over me
Thousands of legs, hard carapace
And those cold, penetrating eyes
Piece by tiny piece, I’m disassembled
Assimilated and he’ll forget

Part of the hive
Rich combs of nectar and honey
An ever-present buzz is our tune
A drone for a drone it fits the name
All hail to her Royal Highness
The Queen that he’ll forget

The Doctor is in
I’ve been slipping away for days
Grains of sand in a sinking hourglass
Hoping someone from somewhere
Will grant a hand and turn me over
Last grain slips and he’ll forget

On The Boardwalk

I first met you on the boardwalk at sunset
In a yellow sundress, flowers in your hair
And I was too tongue-tied for clever lines
To have even asked you your name
Something about the water
Something about the sand
Something about asking
If you’d hold my hand

It was along the water under soft moonlight
You were twirling in the sand by the bonfire
Your eyes burning red, you moved in ways
I wouldn’t be able to forget for days
Feels like a waking dream
What was the rumination
That I’ve got to keep asking
Are you just my imagination?

We saw the sun rise at the rim of the world
And I still couldn’t be sure that this was real
The touch of your lips and the very first kiss
Your eyes pulling me into an abyss
Before I knew it you were gone
Dipping beneath the red horizon
Sailed away on an ocean wave
My heart strings left undone

The Unbecoming Curiosity of James Jenkins

The unbecoming curiosity of James Jenkins
Well, to account for all his misgivings and sins
It could take quite some time to tell the tale
One that could rival the size of Ahab’s whale
Some may say it’s tall, others may cry farce
And some others say the events don’t parse
But I insist the story of James Jenkins is true
You can even put it up for a judicial review!

It started when James was just a young boy
Causing mischief and trouble, his main ploy
He ran from hill to dale, skipping to and fro
One day he severed his ear to mime van Gogh!
It’s true James Jenkins had much ambition
In his spare time he fashioned a crude zip gun
He played Cowboys and Indians with Fred
Little did Fred know, the Indian would be dead

You know that James was just shy of thirteen
And with his doleful innocence got off clean
James Jenkins was smarter than they could think
They threw it all at him except for the kitchen sink
So there he walked, happy, footloose and free
Out of court and down the avenue for the sea
The young man-cum-murderer had to move on
Before they could crucify him at the dawn

James Jenkins held up his parasol in the rain
The woman in front of him keeled over in pain
He smiled wrly as the blood ran into the street
The papers would all say her name was Marguerite
James had pierced her heart through the breast
And traipsed off in a direction, north by northwest
Just past twenty-two and filled with bad intent
His unbecoming curiosity leading to his own torment

For years James Jenkins had only one good ear
The other, scarred remains left his victims in fear
And his skin as white as a gleaming cuttlefish bone
He sat silent and evil upon his murderous throne
Aging as time slowly passed the devious doer by
His unbecoming curiosity constantly asking him why
Why did you hurt them James, why kill them all?
“Quite simply, my dear, I wished to be ten feet tall”

Finally one evening James Jenkins turned to dust
To be honest, I’ve only just reached the upper crust
For this is a story too sad and too gruesome to be heard
In just one sitting in this timeless theatre of the absurd
Ah, but now I’m sure you want the rest of this story
That, my friend, will be your own personal quarry
It’s just that this could be inherently meaningless
For you and I are just pawns in James’ game of chess


surrender yourself to innovation
unless you plan to be left behind
keep glancing over your shoulder
men in white coats are rarely kind

don’t blink as they inject the needle
in moments you’ll feel well at ease
and you’re right where they want you
so now you’ll do as they please

surrender yourself to innovation
unless you plan to be left behind
you can never outrun the machine
because it’s taken over your mind

to become the main exhibition
gawking at you during every show
you tap on the glass to cry out
is this how evolution will go?

surrender yourself to innovation
unless you plan to be left behind
take my hand and edge for the future
show me how you will be defined