Wooden boxes
in the land of foxes
sit neatly by the riverbanks,
flooding shadows, remind the gallows
of serpentine listing planks.
Cold water, deep and blue
staring eyes hide the true.
Skullefaced moons dropped pruning hooks
before the face of staring looks.
Laughing, dancing dead and blaring
the merry Captains,
kiss was daring.
The silent, the sweet, the sound, the trot
smoked the naked the innocent thought.
Soul filled motions tied up chances
less clear nearing hallowed glances.
Where renting robes and soaring years
ended lives filled with tears.
The end, no beginning -
parched tongues winning?
Drenched worlds biting! Wills? Uninviting!
The Captains eyes there stood burning
upon the evil vessel churning
enslaved children
were they learning,
why his widow now lies mourning?
For today is the day
worlds swept away
she dons her veil
for the price he'll pay
So pardon the dismal rain I say
of the captains widows tortured clay
for be-neath,
the crescent moon,
the widow mourns
oh way to soon'
Hourglass pouring
red sand roaring
the Captain ends his plight,
for the widows tears
that stained the years
fall for real this night...
