Pitchers of dark ale
horizons have escaped the glass
in parallax 'mid old dimensions' field,
the captain sang stentorian and bass
Rossini's Reqviem with his belly keeled.
minds our primal goal evinced,
a crazy Mistral whistled 'mid the ropes
forlorn the waves with sea foam splashed to rinse
and cleanse with salty taste our blurry scopes.
alone upon the darkest blue
a drunken steersman guiding us to hell
and when we spoke a tuna entered through
our open mouths to cause aghast misspell. :)
But coiled up
round and dumb our hazy thought
to distant seas egressed, with drinks to hale,
a woozy balance ruled our deeds of naught,
and demons laughed with pitchers to regale.
cradled happy 'pon the waves,
seesawing mindless bird, deleted griefs,
with tunas jumping round we danced the raves,
all-night our techno moves avoided reefs.
with maids that laughed and called our names,
their curvy foggy shapes we longed to trace,
but dark the flowing ale was causing games,
inviting sirens' laugh was death's embrace.
G. Venetopoulos, All Rights Reserved