a whore and a boy
It was a big whore camp where the tank ship crew
went to have paid for sex
I was sixteen years old, and the crew on our ship
thought it was time for me to have sex
The woman who had chosen was dusky and slim
I stood in her room and didn't know what to do
She told me to take my pants off, and she went
to work, placing me inside her open legs, steering
me into the proper opening
It didn't last long, but she hugged me and said
I was a sweet boy, but I didn't kiss. I had been
Never kiss a whore
Later in the evening, she came back and dragged me
into her room, where she began kissing me, no, I did
not resist, and we had incredible sex
She showed me how to satisfy a woman in ways
I didn't know. I remember she purred like a cat
We were tightly embraced, she called me sweet
names, and I was deeply in love
It didn't last, a crew member said we had to go
Back on board, they asked if I had kissed her.
No, we had only "ed," I bravely said
When the ship came back to Curacao, we went
to the same place, but my girl was not there
Campo Alegre re-printed
Under the houses on stilt
That has no sewers
And built for whores
To service sailors in Curacao
A barren island
In the Caribbean Sea
Pigs live under houses
Grew big and ugly
When one is slaughtered
The meat tastes of a drunk
Seamen’s vomit
And cheap perfume
That hides
The grotesque sex
In the name of need
pre-surgery
I have growth on my lower leg
which I bravely ignored till my wife
said I was smelling
It offended me, who showers every morning
I went to see my doctor, a woman in her
the sixties, she insisted on kissing me when I visit
as a result, I love her
Yes, it was a tumor surgery, the ninth of
Dismember
My doctor's name is Teresa, I knew a woman
in Curacao, she was lovely too, named Teresa
When I left her office, I noticed she
didn't kiss me, but said something about
iodine, changing the wound, putting on
a new clean bandage
Campo Alegre re-printed
Under the houses on stilt
That has no sewers
And built for whores
To service sailors in Curacao
A dry barren island
In the Caribbean Sea
Pigs live under the houses
Grew big and ugly
When one is slaughtered
The meat tastes of drunk
Seamen’s vomit
And cheap perfume
That hides
The grotesque sex
In the name of need
A colorful bantam rooster perches atop
The open-air “Blue Heaven” bar in Key West
Red, yellow, green, and blue stools inviting
Passersby to imbide a salty dog or a margarita,
Slices of Key Lime pie are mouth-watering
Old-fashioned lanterns dangle from beams,
While a peculiar green fish garnishes a post
Colorful bottles of vodka, gin, and curacao
Lined up like sailors at attention on deck,
A playful atmosphere of “what the heck!”
Written September 28, 2021
[Inspired by “Blue Heaven” a print by
Key West, Florida artist Lynne Fischer,
which hangs in my living room.]
A happy place…for some
Under the houses on stilt
That had no sewers
And was built for whores
To service sailors in Curacao
A dry, barren Island
In the Caribbean sea.
Pigs lived under the houses
Grew big and ugly.
When one of them was
slaughtered
Its meat tastes of drunk
Seamen`s vomit and
A cheap perfume that hides
The grotesque sex
In the name of need.
The maiden voyage
My first voyage on a ship was on an old tanker
who took us to Novorossiysk in Russia to load oil for
Iceland (Reykjavik.) It was an arduous voyage
in the Black Sea, we got stuck on the ice for days which was
better than the darksome Novorossiysk where we could
only go to restricted places.
Reykjavik too was a dreary little place but we could
walk about as we wanted and the people were nice
only it had no restaurants to speak of and the cafes
sold ghastly beer.
Then the ship was bound for Curacao, a Dutch island
full of bars and whores, it was on that voyage I wrote
my first poem “The Ship plough on” it was met with
amusement of the type I disliked and did attempt to
write anything for the next 30 years but read hundred
of books.
Curaçao
flies a solitary seagull,
pregnant with island life.
graceful waves flutter,
the tide ties a rope,
tambú us into port. drums
beat out a dushi welcome.
night lights, like stars,
twinkle extra bright,
with wide smiling teeth
of the southern Caribbean.
1/13/2018
Dushi - sweet, good, nice
Tambú - Indigenous music of the ABC islands
The Rising Sun
There was a place in Curacao not far from
the town of Willemstad you could stay there till dawn
when the whores had gone to sleep and the pigs in
the ditch full of human detritus didn`t grunt.
When the beer was drunk enjoy the cooling moment
of time well spent take a taxi out back to the ship look
back and remember: Campo Alegre (the happy camp)
Listening to the Blues on this cerulean night,
my mood dark with visions of ecchymotic dreams
leaving chalybeous bruises in my crazed mind.
I waited for the turquoise twinkle in your smiling azure eyes
to soothe the despondent indigo thoughts I'm feeling.
Like a vitreous vapor I could feel you, but you did not appear.
I guess your cold cyaneous attitude shouldn't surprise me,
it's what I deserve, after leaving your beautiful mind filled
with empty, brooding, questioning, mazarine emotions.
Now I sit here alone watching the aqua liquid of your cocktail
throwing slowly fading teal reflections on a crinkled napkin
as the argon Curacao sign blinks lonely above the empty bar.
Liquid slowly pools in the corner of my cesious eyes.
You used to call them your sapphire visions into my soul,
now they're just old and faded like our cyanotic love affair.
It seems you have finally had enough of my broody blue moods.
I don't blame you, they've cost me more than just you in my life,
as for now I'll just wait in my livid sorrow and listen to the lonely Blues.
02/28/16
Who is a Prisoner Now
My back yard has high walls and is like sun trap, I sit here and
get a tan in winters... the walls, cracked, need a lick of paint.
I can see a map of Europe, lakes, rivers and open plains
where wolves roam and hunt elk, and man shot wolves.
The map changes I now see the Caribbean and the Islands
dotted about. When I was on a small tank ship years ago I had
a chance to go ashore, visit and explore most of the Islands
.... mainly I fear, my interest was to meet lovely girls, of what
these Islands have many, and with a few of them swam in
crystal clear waters of innocence. I also had the sense to see
those pearls of Islands in early morning haze.
So many years ago, yet I remember Teresa, in Curacao, and that
is a great recall, as the Island itself is rather flat and has little
to offer of beauty, its only claim to fame is a big oil refinery and
the largest camp of prostitutes I have ever seen. Anyway the sun is
setting and shadows erase my map, time to go in and lit the fire,
but reminiscence of a time gone by lingers.
JACK DANIELS met JIM BEAM at the CANADIAN CLUB to discuss their upcoming trip on the
CUTTY SARK. They were planning to go south for some SOUTHERN COMFORT, but when the
ship had a fire, they thought they might have to SCOTCH their plans.
JOHNNY WALKER, who had a disagreement with them over their SLOE GIN game, wanted to
give them both a SAKI in the nose. "VODKA ya think you're doing?! cried JIM and JACK.
"It's not like EARLY TIMES!!"
CAPTAIN MORGAN came over, and BRANDY, the waitress, brought his VO to their table. He
tried to calm things down by talking about his last trip. "How BLUE CURACAO was...and the
mornings were alive with the TULLAMORE DEW!" He said.
"You've got a lot of GALIANO...to interrupt us like this!!" They RUMbled.
Before a TRIPLE SEC had passed, the CHRISTIAN BROTHERS were there to calm all the
DEWERS down and restore a HYPNOTIQ sense of peace, ALIZE for the time being.
For their efforts, they were awarded with shouts of SHIRAZ and the thanks of the king of the
club. He was not wearing his 7 CROWN, but instead, his CROWN ROYALE.
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