Corsairs Of Old, Parts, (1- 4) Poem by Captain Cur

1) Corsairs Of Old
2) Pirate Skulls And Crossbones Speak
3) Deepest Waters Of Reflection
4) Monolith Of Self

Corsairs Of Old (1)

Cutting lime, squatting on sun whitened sand,
I view the contours of my anchored ship
making mental notes I carefully scan
indigenous tribes as juice swarms round my lips.
I wave a fruit high, stuck to my sword tip,
and laugh at horse like creatures in the sky
raging past in great white unbridled bands,
like bold corsairs of old on maiden trips.
I will barter for water and supplies
or fight beneath the great white horse's eye.

Pirate Skulls And Crossbones Speak (2)

Bled by wind, broke by sea,
Can you hear the Corsairs sing?
Whispers from the mountains long,
Waters sing their silent song.
Rising from the hungry deep
Pirate Skulls and Crossbones speak
Crafty tales and legends spun
When the moon obscures the sun.
Coarse chafed lips and bucket breath;
Massive arms and heaving chests,
Short broad swords in knotted sheaths,
Knifes clamped tight in blackened teeth.
When they raid the helpless ships
Rum and powder shot on their lips;
Climb and jump from yardarms strong,
Raze and kill like locust swarms
Taking silk and golden coins
Sackcloth shielding bulging loins.
Canons blast and rip apart
Driftwood left to float and rot
On the boards survivors cling
Corsairs bold victorious sing.

Deepest Waters Of Reflection (3)

Invasion predisposes me to fate
challenges that have steady wore me down,
I look out from the crows nest and I wait
for that last glorious battle to be found.
I am the taunt sail that harnesses wind;
a tall mast that draws it's voyaging map,
a rudder that must hold to keep direction,
from this faltering height as my vision dims
I am chastised like a child on her lap
and punished for all past and future sins
engaged in the deepest waters of reflection.

Every man aboard loyal to our cause
not a one contemplating desertion
when the winds of life still we must take pause
rejoicing in the ills of our dejection.
With one voice we have made clear to the world
we are Corsairs and contest stronger lands,
the ocean our lover and protector,
our flag whipped hard, her message seen and heard.
Within our souls the template of our plans
to each, ourselves, we hold fast to that oath.
Raise high our swords! We are the new Conquistadors!

Monolith Of Self (4)

On the belief that life will always suckle me
give the withal to move up another step
be enriched by the clear poverty of living
direct my triumphs and protect me to the last;
in this conclave of mind I stare bold and scheming
reinfected by the gaiety of the young
receiving joy from the simple garden pleasures
sung by the blooms that reach out trusting to the sun.
This moment is the only truth once afforded
the future a falsehood that I must never cast
rewards are held in this present earnest heartbeat
pass the old draughts and bray the monolith of self!