Sailing Out On The Good Ship

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Sailing out on the good ship
Prevailing winds ensuring a clear path
Foregoing the unexplained existence
Forging headlong into nature’s wrath
Arctic waters surrounding our view
Diligent sailors crewing this steel boat
Perpetually longing for a illusive home
But buoyed by a dedication keeping us afloat

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Sailing To The Land Of The Norse

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Roaming free, since empires first ruled the sea
Our little ship buoyed upon the rising crests
Cutting through the waters, making our way
The burden of duty, we have silently acquiesced

Sailing to the land of the Norse
Braving storms that blew & blew
Surviving the ocean’s force
For I’m one of the salty crew

Cautious of what lies beyond this foggy morn
The natural world; the root of crashing waves
Taking in the sight of snow covered mountains
Norse myths & a foreboding weakness we stave

Sailing to the land of the Norse
Braving storms that blew & blew
Surviving the ocean’s force
For I’m one of the salty crew

Now aloft; climbing the mast for a clearer view
Ice, snow & haze coming out of this Northern gale
Secrets of this land & now we’re in its frigid grip
Push furthermore, we have no option to fail

Sailing to the land of the Norse
Braving storms that blew & blew
Surviving the ocean’s force
For I’m one of the salty crew

Waking Up Before All The Roosters

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Waking up before all the roosters
With a black coffee in my hand
Carrying dreams & fears onboard
Somehow those rails have to be manned
I don’t know if heroes still exist
But that’s definitely not me
I’m just a lowly sailor
Who’s penitence is to sail the sea

It’s Like Riding

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It’s like riding a six month
Mechanical bull
These lapping waves
Tugging at my soul
Forgot how much I loved
All that dusty dirt
& those pretty girls
Teasing in short skirts
These peaceful waters are
Nice in their own right
But I hunger for my woman
& a cold beer at night

Poseur Punks Stealing My Traditions

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Poseur punks stealing my traditions

Though they never earned the right

You cannot reappropriate a feeling

They’ve never been adrift under a starry night

These kids’ empty hearts & endless expectations

I left the sweat of my brow upon the sea

With too many of my nights away from home

In an entitled world; duty means a lot to me

Thousand Yard Stare

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It was dark out on the flight deck. The stars and moon not visable tonight. The hum of the Diesel engines mixed with the lapping of the waves. The rest of the guys were inside playing cards. He was sitting on a bullnose, where the mooring lines enter the ship.

He was dirty. The overall grime of shipboard life had taken its toll on his uniform, exposed flesh and general psyche. At this point of the deployment, his blue ‘digital’ camouflage pants were were out of regulations. They had rips, paint splatter and grease stains. No one gave him flack about it. There was no time to focus on those aspects or the means to replace uniforms. It was not important at this point. There was a mission at hand. The priorities were to do your job correctly the first time. Crisp new uniforms would not help you succeed out here. There is a feeling among sailors that those who had time to polish their boots did not have a real job. Admin types and supply personnel usually were the ones with nice looking boots.
“Smitty, you okay man?”
“I’m cool”
“You got that 1,000 yard stare going.”
“Naw, I’m just thinking. I’m fucking tired man”
“Me too.”
“I just want to go home. This shit sucks.”
“I know, I don’t even want to get off the boat in port.”
“Right? Let’s just go back, cut all this short.”
“Wish we could, man. You gonna be okay?”
“Yeah. I’m cool. I’m gonna go to bed soon.”
“All right man, don’t be grabbing chains and jumping off the side.” They both smiled. “We’re laughing, but seriously. It’s not that bad. We’ll be home soon enough.”
“I know, thanks man.”
They went their separate ways. Smitty returned his gaze back out on the water.
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A Lady Upon The Figurehead

A  lady upon the figurehead
Standing proud in the breeze
Calling to the Sirens & wenches
Knowing the truth of these seas
Her beauty remaining firm & intact
The ship around her orange with rust
The sailors with splinters in their palms
For she has a wooden bust

Reading The Braille Edition Of A Topless Sextant

 

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Reading the Braille edition of a topless sextant
Borderland sailors lost again above the tree line
Vicious handwriting left you pretty & potent
Dainty cherries plucked from Guerneville’s vine
Coffeehouse grunge wiped clean in your hands
Uninitiated lives failing to stand so fast & sure
Entitlements marked against your vacant lands
Discarded notes burned to return fresh & pure
Mermaids & alehouses swollen in a vamp rain
Self-imposed heartbreak mistaken for the blues
Trying to remember names of those who remain
Cautiously awaiting your new high-heeled muse
Writing a memoir regarding a nurse he skirted
Astral units left you with dingy change to spare
Noting the good stock with which she flirted
Winning the hearts, but the minds did not care
All your dreams left tied to the evening bedpost
Those rosy cheeks, offering you up a silent peek
Locked her in the room, staying white as a ghost
Mocking all the love & affection you still seek
Fingers toy with the scarf tied around her waist
The bard’s meaning left bewildering & obscured
Untied & left it hanging, waiting for your taste
Knowing your future holds your heart immured
Dedicated your words to the love of a woman
Sailing away from her, wiping away your tears
Too many free nights with the dark star to damn
Return trip bound by the change of distant years
Pressed into servicing you under the water tower
Releasing me to retreat & now be fallen asunder
Bathed atop the crow’s nest in a summer shower
Her loose dress allowed an easy chance to plunder
Busted in a brothel by shipmates on shore patrol
Her liberty cuffs showing us a full view of the bay
Wharf rats continuing down the hill out of control
Your Elizabethan Towers blocking the dreary day
Frayed hair in a yellowish hue flowing out & over
Dry rot found along our real estate, but I digressed
That Golden Gate shadowing my four-leaf clover
I’m lucky enough to find you had freshly undressed
Pirates full of malarkey & rum out in the shipyards
It was rot gut that ruined me & not rotten planks
He returned to port to find her old life now charred
Rising sun shines upon new beauty & I give thanks

You Don’t See It

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You don’t see it
The boys not getting enough sleep
Those who have abandoned their homes
Keeping watch over the watery deep
You don’t see it
Those who dream of something better
Youth sacrificing blindly
Riding the tide, salt spray getting wetter
You don’t see it
Loading sea bags in early morning hours
Walking the gangplank in the face of fear
Trusting their lives to a Greater Power

*This is dedicated to the boys & girls who voluntarily leave the comfort of a normal life to do something different. We all have our reasons for why we’re here. I humbly thank those who have come before me, those standing next to me and those who will carry on the watch after my time is complete.