Skeleton Ship on a Skeleton Sea
Posted: Tue Jul 12, 2011 10:52 am
Here I go again. Looked like nothing was going to happen for a while, but the idea of a skeleton albatross seemed to spark something.
Skeleton Ship on a Skeleton Sea
© Stephen Whiteside 12.07.2011
When the wind is strong, and the rain is hard,
And the leaves are tumbling round the yard,
Swirling and twirling, deadened and dry,
Spicules and bicules that lead you to cry,
Think of the mariners out on the sea,
Thinking of them heaving for you and for me,
Heaving for witchetty, howling at yobbidee,
Snitchy and scitchy and bitchy and yee.
Think - well it's them, and not me.
Yibbidy yabbada. Gibbedy gabbada.
Whippety. Whoppety. Wubbeda. Woo.
Skitchetty. Skatchetty. Witchetty. Watchetty.
Flitchetty. Flatchetty. Flubbery. Floo.
I'd even prefer it was you.
Call me a sningle nous. Call me a fritchetty.
Call me a person who harbours disgrace.
Proud, not a little. I sit and I whittle.
Tell me your secreties straight to my face.
I'd harbour disgrace. It's a safe sort of harbour.
Safer at least than a death on the sea.
Better to skulk by an old rusting hulk
Than fight for my breath in a tumbling sea.
I splutter out help as the licorice kelp
Wraps itself tight round my legs and my waist.
And what of my mind? It is one of a kind.
It'll soon be hypoxic. It seems such a waste.
Oh what a waste of a beautiful mind.
Not, of course, missing the body below.
To lose such a creature, a notable feature,
A ripe bonzeer peacher - how bitter the blow.
I don't want a medal. Don't call me Humane.
I won't rescue others. I'll rescue myself.
I'll look to my welfare. I'll do what is needed.
The Continent's broad, but it has a steep shelf.
Out on the water in depths, now, of winter,
And depths, too, of water, full five fathoms deep,
I've a log in my eye. It isn't a splinter,
Or so Jesus tells me - perhaps I'm a creep.
I think of the sailors, I wish them no peril,
I wish them no misery out in their boats,
But why go to sea when you could be like me,
Sipping hot chocolate and boiling fresh oats.
The sea is a mistress, a harsh and a cruel one.
Not always, mind you, but often enough.
Especially now when the days they are short.
The wind will howl down. It will give you a cuff.
Give you a cuff from your stern to your rafters,
Give you a cuff from your bow to your roof.
Don't take it from me. I could be a liar.
Look out your window, for there is the proof.
Look out the window, just look and keep looking,
Look past the lamp post, and cars in the street,
Look past the postman, the toy dogs, the plane trees,
When look you can't more, use your brain cells to cheat.
Think of the light house. It's there for a reason.
Think of the rocks that it's warning you from.
For sailing at sea there's a time and a season.
Sit in your arm chair with calm and aplomb.
A bold skull and cross-bones, it flies by the crow's nest.
Forwards and backwards the mast it rocks wild.
With skulls for their faces and bones for their bodies, say,
Why would you not simply cry like a child?
The albatross flies past. It too is a skeleton.
Skeleton albatross over the sea.
Postmodern Coleridge. This is quite new to me.
Mightn't fool you, but it sure fooleth me.
Fooleth me. Sooleth me. Tripsies my fancies.
Skeleton albatross. Hold me my breath.
Is it a portent? Is it important?
Harbinger, surely, of untimely death.
Lo, there in the water, a skeleton penguin.
A skeleton seal. A skeleton shark.
The ship is a skeleton. Ribs without cladding.
Keep out the water? Relies on some spark.
Some sharp spark of magic. Nay, skeleton water.
Skeleton water, no more than bare bones.
No skin and no muscle. No hair and no nipples.
What is this version of ol' Davey Jones?
Down in the locker with skeleton water.
Is it true water, or could I still breathe?
Breathe 'tween the cracks of the strange little molleculls,
Still all around me the current doth seethe.
Skeleton water. Skeleton water.
I Google. There's nothing, and Wiki says no.
I must find the answer. Must answer the question,
Else how will I ever, I ever, then, know?
And know I just must. Or else I will bust.
Know I just must. This isn't a joke.
I'm here in my armchair, but life surely changes.
One day I might find it's all up in smoke.
Skeleton smoke beside skeleton water.
Dastardly vicious, but likely quite true.
Skeleton smoke beside skeleton water.
Not drowning, but smoke inhalation for you!
But skeleton smoke, does it damage your lungs,
Does it damage your lungs like the true dinkum stuff?
Lungs are resilient, will not roll over.
Skeleton smoke. Is it evil enough?
Skeleton smoke will hurt skeleton lungs.
Skeleton cancer the final result.
Skeleton chemo. Skeleton surgery.
Skeleton death, oh the final insult.
For skeleton death is not the real thing.
It's a death before death. Sure, a challenge to life,
But not the real deal, full turn of the wheel.
The Full Monty death is the one that brings strife.
I think of the skeleton albatross skimming
The skeleton seas 'neath a skeleton sky.
A skeleton crew in a skeleton ship -
A skeleton scene, and I ask myself why.
Why? There's no reason. It's just entertaining.
Gets the brain spinning in various ways.
Skeleton crow's nest. Skeleton poop deck.
Skeleton spinnakers. Skeleton stays.
Skeleton rudder. Skeleton figurehead.
Skeleton sun behind skeleton clouds.
Skeleton story. Skeleton poet.
Puts down his skeleton keyboard unbowed.
Skeleton Ship on a Skeleton Sea
© Stephen Whiteside 12.07.2011
When the wind is strong, and the rain is hard,
And the leaves are tumbling round the yard,
Swirling and twirling, deadened and dry,
Spicules and bicules that lead you to cry,
Think of the mariners out on the sea,
Thinking of them heaving for you and for me,
Heaving for witchetty, howling at yobbidee,
Snitchy and scitchy and bitchy and yee.
Think - well it's them, and not me.
Yibbidy yabbada. Gibbedy gabbada.
Whippety. Whoppety. Wubbeda. Woo.
Skitchetty. Skatchetty. Witchetty. Watchetty.
Flitchetty. Flatchetty. Flubbery. Floo.
I'd even prefer it was you.
Call me a sningle nous. Call me a fritchetty.
Call me a person who harbours disgrace.
Proud, not a little. I sit and I whittle.
Tell me your secreties straight to my face.
I'd harbour disgrace. It's a safe sort of harbour.
Safer at least than a death on the sea.
Better to skulk by an old rusting hulk
Than fight for my breath in a tumbling sea.
I splutter out help as the licorice kelp
Wraps itself tight round my legs and my waist.
And what of my mind? It is one of a kind.
It'll soon be hypoxic. It seems such a waste.
Oh what a waste of a beautiful mind.
Not, of course, missing the body below.
To lose such a creature, a notable feature,
A ripe bonzeer peacher - how bitter the blow.
I don't want a medal. Don't call me Humane.
I won't rescue others. I'll rescue myself.
I'll look to my welfare. I'll do what is needed.
The Continent's broad, but it has a steep shelf.
Out on the water in depths, now, of winter,
And depths, too, of water, full five fathoms deep,
I've a log in my eye. It isn't a splinter,
Or so Jesus tells me - perhaps I'm a creep.
I think of the sailors, I wish them no peril,
I wish them no misery out in their boats,
But why go to sea when you could be like me,
Sipping hot chocolate and boiling fresh oats.
The sea is a mistress, a harsh and a cruel one.
Not always, mind you, but often enough.
Especially now when the days they are short.
The wind will howl down. It will give you a cuff.
Give you a cuff from your stern to your rafters,
Give you a cuff from your bow to your roof.
Don't take it from me. I could be a liar.
Look out your window, for there is the proof.
Look out the window, just look and keep looking,
Look past the lamp post, and cars in the street,
Look past the postman, the toy dogs, the plane trees,
When look you can't more, use your brain cells to cheat.
Think of the light house. It's there for a reason.
Think of the rocks that it's warning you from.
For sailing at sea there's a time and a season.
Sit in your arm chair with calm and aplomb.
A bold skull and cross-bones, it flies by the crow's nest.
Forwards and backwards the mast it rocks wild.
With skulls for their faces and bones for their bodies, say,
Why would you not simply cry like a child?
The albatross flies past. It too is a skeleton.
Skeleton albatross over the sea.
Postmodern Coleridge. This is quite new to me.
Mightn't fool you, but it sure fooleth me.
Fooleth me. Sooleth me. Tripsies my fancies.
Skeleton albatross. Hold me my breath.
Is it a portent? Is it important?
Harbinger, surely, of untimely death.
Lo, there in the water, a skeleton penguin.
A skeleton seal. A skeleton shark.
The ship is a skeleton. Ribs without cladding.
Keep out the water? Relies on some spark.
Some sharp spark of magic. Nay, skeleton water.
Skeleton water, no more than bare bones.
No skin and no muscle. No hair and no nipples.
What is this version of ol' Davey Jones?
Down in the locker with skeleton water.
Is it true water, or could I still breathe?
Breathe 'tween the cracks of the strange little molleculls,
Still all around me the current doth seethe.
Skeleton water. Skeleton water.
I Google. There's nothing, and Wiki says no.
I must find the answer. Must answer the question,
Else how will I ever, I ever, then, know?
And know I just must. Or else I will bust.
Know I just must. This isn't a joke.
I'm here in my armchair, but life surely changes.
One day I might find it's all up in smoke.
Skeleton smoke beside skeleton water.
Dastardly vicious, but likely quite true.
Skeleton smoke beside skeleton water.
Not drowning, but smoke inhalation for you!
But skeleton smoke, does it damage your lungs,
Does it damage your lungs like the true dinkum stuff?
Lungs are resilient, will not roll over.
Skeleton smoke. Is it evil enough?
Skeleton smoke will hurt skeleton lungs.
Skeleton cancer the final result.
Skeleton chemo. Skeleton surgery.
Skeleton death, oh the final insult.
For skeleton death is not the real thing.
It's a death before death. Sure, a challenge to life,
But not the real deal, full turn of the wheel.
The Full Monty death is the one that brings strife.
I think of the skeleton albatross skimming
The skeleton seas 'neath a skeleton sky.
A skeleton crew in a skeleton ship -
A skeleton scene, and I ask myself why.
Why? There's no reason. It's just entertaining.
Gets the brain spinning in various ways.
Skeleton crow's nest. Skeleton poop deck.
Skeleton spinnakers. Skeleton stays.
Skeleton rudder. Skeleton figurehead.
Skeleton sun behind skeleton clouds.
Skeleton story. Skeleton poet.
Puts down his skeleton keyboard unbowed.
