Pirate Ship

by Darryl Price


I was a disaster at first, a thousand

Light years ago. We sail the seas we're given

Like all of you, but that doesn't mean we get

To survive like you. Our course may have blown us


Completely off the map. When that happens you

Don't just meet the occasional monster who's

Slipped into the friendly waters by mistake.

You are in the territory of monsters.


There's only one way out, and that is to sin

Against God and man until you can see the

Shores again of reason and remorse. That may

Take some getting used to, after you have plainly


Shed all modern decency for the rags of

The wild thick way forward. More than your clothes are

Shredded beyond recognition. Your eyes have

Seen more than enough of the infinite and


Vulgar varieties of stars. Your hands have

Grasped enough desperate ropes to be welded

With the mortar of many calluses. I'm

Not saying this to scare you. The world extends


In all directions, but you have a clear choice.

It's true, the poetic waters are even

More beautiful than your unopened tube of

Cerulean blue. I don't want to fool you.


I'm not trying to warn you. I don't care what

They say this adventure is or isn't. I

Reject all definitions of the impulse

To travel with the muse. Now you are catching


On. You are the captain of this voyage.  Not

A stowaway. Not a ticket holder. Not

A wooden vacationer. But again, you

May go down that plank right now and get off. No


One will be the wiser. You can opt for a

Romantic image of the ship receding

Into your memory like a sun whitened

Water lily, or you can cast your glances


To the old worlds and wave goodbye. Don't get me

Wrong, we don't recommend this life.  It is full

Of the unknown metaphors, unexpected,

Maybe even unexplored jungles of words


And new sentences. Dangerous paragraphs

May present themselves to you in a sudden

Grab for meaning. The possibilities are

Overwhelming, so are you willing? Then go.



Bonus Poems:

An Unknown Madness by Darryl Price


It's all been a pretty lonely town

for a little lost fool like me. I'm

not accepting any more paid for

excuses. We're full up. Matter of

fact, we'll be returning them for a

refund today. Keep your blue movies,

the splattered chunks of bait money, its

inevitable sequel about

nothing more than modern grasses. Keep


the sad religion of idols for

idiots. Keep the politics of

awkward stunted creeps. You can also

keep the tyrannical rants and the

equally silly psychotic raves

of sadistic radio hosts. Keep

the so-called love of ultimate greed.

Free is better. That's all—it's not a

Saturday morning mystery. It's


not an unknown madness. It's a dog's

only choice. Keep the future. Keep the

entombed past out of my face. Keep the

squeezed-out golden praises on silver

paper. Yeah, it's been lonely. Thank god

for the Beatles. For comedians.

For the dancers. The painters. Poets.

Gardeners. The bicycle riders.

The dreamers. Thinkers. I give you thanks.     

All the Words


Let the world listen in. What

Are you afraid of, the wolves?

I get it. King Liar is

Drinking his oil down like an

Ice cold coke and it's at least

One hundred degrees on the

Freshly mowed golf course of his

Demented fake dreams. But where

Are you? What are you doing?

I get it. King Liar has

Insulted all the words in

The dictionary that mean

The word love in action. Yet,

You are still hiding behind

Some awful words for empty,

For hollow, instead of kind

Words for open my eyes, for

Now, for one of these days. I

Get it. King Liar's taken

An axe to a beautiful

Family of trees and split

The forest into gated

Communities, all for the

Sake of protecting money

From being used to heal the

Earth, North and South, East and

West. But what direction are

You facing? Is it one that

Radiates? King Liar will

Do everything in his stolen

Power to protect his

Own hole in the shade using

Every poisoned tooth in his

Arrogant mouth. No child is

Safe. So will you protect them?

Or will you twist on your spine.       

The Funny Question


The world is all the love we

Will be given. How will you

Make it work? That isn't

The funny question you

Think it is. If you're not

In charge of the button


Then who is? That guy there

Is you in another

Life, another disguise.

Call it a refraction,

But dream it's a color,

Wheels spinning through space and


Time waiting for a true

Love of its own. We don't

Need to define things in

Any permanent manner.

To do so is to freeze

On the spot and never


Get up to dance again.

Who among you wants to

Simply stagnate, inside  

A statue's hollow four

Walls, garden or not, not

Able to enjoy the


Sun from a different

Angle? There are no wings

On a wall. The world is

All the love we must work

With. It should be enough.

There's only one way to


Find out, be sure. Isn't

That funny, turns out they

Were right—they weren't messing

Us around—it's really

A single eye looking

Everywhere at once.