You’re a questionable soul
Lying in the Captain’s brig
After drinking his scotch
& wearing his wife’s wig
Definitely conduct unbecoming
Her voice sounding the alarm
The man knows your name now
Surely you’ll swing from the yardarm
Floating through the world
Soaking up life like a sponge
Trying hard to wipe away pain
To rid yourself of this grunge
Each night another debacle
Colorful dusk marking time set
Building your wall before alarm
Shredded by demons not yet met
Liberation granted by the morning alarm
Still alive; this body aching with rippling fatigue
October visions, yet I’m safe from obvious harm
Visions dwindling; remnants of horrific intrigue
Seeking out coffee to loosen this slumber
A stretch & chance to deliberately mourn
These dreams encrusted in burnt umber
Sworn to abide by the wisdom of Nat Hawthorn
The terror that befalls us when we’re unaware
Soon free from the slow tolling of the funeral bell
Needful sleep caught us within a nightmare
Unconsciously breaking from a manufactured hell
Visions of dropping acid with William Blake
Dawn is our escape; returning to peace as we wake
Summer mornings; rising without the alarm
Open the windows while we’re still in the shade
God’s fresh air can’t do any lasting harm
Yet, snuggle up close; no sense in letting this warmth fade
Captain Q 