POEM: Pirate Queen

Wile the sands of time
Make some wail and blubber
In the aye of the storm
You could sea it
In the wides of her eyes
Shown as bright as a thousand stars
Her pupils
As deep and rapturous
As awe
The sorrow in the whirled
Helled in a black pearl
Living
Well
Off
The grid
And passing lifeless commerce
On to
They’re game
For her
The sky her hood
And at her feat
Scintillating gems
To the world’s end
And yon unknown
Beyond where the sleepy wrest

This poem is a tribute to a wild and free anarchist spirit anchored in nature and at home around kindred spirits, with little use for civilization’s offerings of money, status and power. Free range human beings surf present reality and choose their own adventures a mist life’s boundless bounty. The metaphor of a pirate may stretch for sum the sensibilities of pondered — and often ponderous — proprieties. The deep harmonies of free spirits in touch with nature run far deeper than superficial constraints of law and order. Free spirits acting outside the bounds of one or another’s tribal laws would be hard pressed to do more damage to the human soul than the many machinations of so-called civilization, harboring dark unconscious farces in the tallest of social orders. The metaphor of royalty — a queen — may seem queer as a descriptor of an anarchist, even a rank description. Still, throne to the wind, such captains of destiny are happy presiding over surfboards rather than commanding Titanics. Such a precarious existence may be too exhilarating for many, but may very well be better suited to the human spirit than the many comfortable cages and designer chains so fashionable buy civilization. May we each wake to our incalculable futures and sail far beyond whatever fears we may be harboring.