The Captain, The King, & Big Lug

19 Aug

The fish would often say
zig zagging at a full tilt,
“Things are like a town’s office
park on Sunday here.”

“No,” the Captain shouts
down, “they are not,
I’ve seen the Cannibal
Jungles that never see
red, that’s why I’ve
got the existential
answer.”

A bronze colored version
of the Captain swam in
a castle’s mote in the
past clapped his hands
and bloomed, showing
his teeth and gold
bars.

The big city sun sets
looking like a molten
mud lobster in the sky
crossed with a mermaid
in boiling water flame.

The cards look up from
the table,
“Oh we know it is all irradiated
now, so twisted, even the
guilty trees have eyes.”
The king of hearts screams
as he smokes until he’s
dead.

Big Lug wonders aloud
mostly to himself,
“Have they tracked me down,
what of the dust in the golden
small southern port of call?”

The Captain howled into the
loudest of all the thirteen
wolves of the moon.

“There is a grand King hiding
out there in the dark.
Can you find him?”

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