Sirens

“Sincerity is the cast of all marked ships
and tethered masts in Abel moorings.”

[They drink]

What wretched drafts neat Navy spill
And christen throats most acrid gasps.          
For fortunes vestal harbingers seek
Only those who dote and clasp
At the immaculate,
The clamorous webbed scavengers
Of Seraphic black saturate.

Through bending boughs decks down beneath
The widowed shells of spirits toast.
The carapace white rums bequeath
Left rolling, sea made motions host.
And heralded on mist mornings air,
The Sun’s most sultry gentlemen.
The crying white winged cadency
Alive on crested white Le Mer.

With Technologies in earnest proof
We subjugate our bearings North
Through lapped and effete skeletons,
The vestige tones of latent wharf.
Up through merry Hinterlands,
Past points of compass wrath,
Where a singing tenebrosity
Floats terribly across our path.

And unbeknownst to all my crew
I’m sailing them to widowed wives.
The delphian sweet harmonies
Were nether high from sea bird cries
But from the jaws of Seraphin,
Which devastate me deep within.
It’s more than a man’s heart can take
To hear such Godly music wake.

So sail on, north bound to Sirenum,
To a fortune most malaise,
To wickedness and malady
To rhapsody in perfect phrase.