A seed holds the makeup
That many have tried to be
No matter what each’s need
Fallacy, differences of a breakup
That holds within: a shakeup
A life well lived can see
Is it not in each’s creed?
Oh Devil! Dare not to stand up!
For it shall be the path
Not thy evil trickery
That takes account, that can last
For in mimicry
No sustenance life hath
Only a land of devilry
Thus a man shall walk past
What calls out in infamy
Ahoy, good friends! Tis’ I come home
From a land I loved, I must say
Far off, quite far, several days
Generous fellows called it Rome
With marvelous peaks and glorious domes!
But with every step, the whole way
So many places I just could not stay
Something missing I was never shown.
Then one day who did I see?!
A friend I’d lost, nearly forgot
Lost in thought in a bubbling fountain
For me was worth bounds of glee
For all at once came a quite clear thought
Go home, remember, and climb that mountain.
Night’s fog had rolled on in
Long voyage to harbour – land ho!
Land at last for this ragged show.
Three fog horns led our fearless captain –
A man too honest for sailor’s gin,
All the way to One Armed Row.
Choicest of ales, where great seamen go,
And also toiled our captain’s sin.
She smiled at all who crossed the hearth:
Fodder for jealous types stuck out in open sea;
Mirth for all at One Armed Row.
Our captain, pure soil of the earth,
Led his men, each as anxious as he
To find what seeds they each could sow.
Aghast! The land was ever black
Shifting around with all despair
Clouds rolling in Gaia’s hair
And I, loosing my way back.
Should think I would leave no slack
To bring my hems, save no fare,
Back to the toil I’d never dare
Leave alone, I had a knack!
Then all at once I felt a tap
That brought me back into my senses
Clinging tightly to the shore
I un-scrolled my handy map
Which led me betwixt two broken fences
And I, my heart, agape no more.
Wisdom is an empty sea
And I have gone too far.
I lost my rope, my sign, my star
To keep me mind at ease.
But in this dream my mind was free!
Not holding on as tar,
A flow that never was thy scar.
For if the heart pulls back to flee
The soul knows: nevermore,
Which leaves a man in misery –
A fate no soul should score.
So which of you are ready for:
The lad with eyes of mystery,
Or a maiden waiting at sea’s shore?