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Mar 2017
I hear the Siren's cry.
A bittersweet laughing ruse
full of a life fulfilled
just out of earshot.

Here I stand restrained.
A mute with perfect hearing,
A rigid, fettered meat husk.
Jutte Bristles feast upon the flesh of my wrists-
Vegetative vampiric cord.
It holds me to my main sail in a sea of
Violent storms.

My ship tosses and bucks, riding the bull of Poseidon
while phantoms of light dance on crests of oblivion.
My sailors, ears plugged with wax
Shift and sway on legs accustomed to rough waters.
I Alone, Hear the call and strain to act.

And what do these Goddesses of Lies offer,
(for deep down I know what they are)
these voices of fell winds wrapped in painful beauty.
Riches or Aires?
Sweet coupled love?
Secrets of the Green Mirror?

No, an end to loneliness.
Become one with the sweet horror and chaos.
Come dance over the waters with ****** abandon.
Feast on the tripe of torn souls.
I long to follow, but will not.

Rope against bone and sinew.
Blood pools at my ships rain-drenched trunk.
The song it calls, it calls…
Vile once-men, future minstrel demons,
Abominations that haunt my ghost ship.
Listen to your commander and allow me to follow
these kisses of spectral wanton lust.

Screams of anguish echo--
and then realization!
It is my own voice that parts
the waves of the storm soaked sea.
It is my own voice that
parts from the divine.
Pete Badertscher
Written by
Pete Badertscher  Ohio
(Ohio)   
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