We are out in the ocean where the spray is rough
Old Medley Meanie decides to get meaner and tough
We take Captain Smithe and we throw him overboard.
We are a crew of roughnecks with our hatchet and sword!
Cap’n is gone, we are cheering our rebel!
The ocean has taken him, he’s head’d for hell.
We are fighting to be Captain, in charge now.
Fighting for the crown on the ship’s bloody bow!
There are ten of us left. We know there is only food for six.
I am hoping to get the one steak, but I am in quite a fix.
The other pirates are as mean as I have ever tried to be.
I am in trouble now in this dangerous Caribbean Sea.
Cap’n is gone, we are cheering our rebel!
The ocean has taken him, he’s head’d for hell.
We are fighting to be Captain, in charge now.
Fighting for the crown on the ship’s bloody bow!
There are six of us left, we are the toughest of all.
I am scared of only one, shipmate Morey, he is seven foot tall.
He comes at me with a hatchet, and I plunge into the sea.
I guess fear will now be the death of me.
Elections yield
idiosyncratic bloodthirsty gods, demons, lemons, liars, and fleas
full of prayers
that most are just tricks in twists and turns
of emptiness
that only endeavor to veil the roughness of these roughnecks
full of vagueness and vanities;
The real vampires,
plunged, swimming and sinking in stinking Politics swarmed with fanatics, irks
and licks, and deceits, and idioms, and schisms, and dreams, and victims
and
Isms
said from wide wild mouths
of crooks of looks and books, but of deaf ears,
buoyed by
self-seeking self-seekers and bootlickers, and
the rest, as they trample down
on the colors of truth, and play down
–anxious and teasing times
the
sudden overnight gods
Fossil powered gas coal and crude
Got miners and some roughnecks screwed
With solar and wind
Their fate could be pinned
On working with fuel that's renewed