Sea Of Garble

Drowning in a sea of garble,

On horizons, the salts of men,

As a tide of sea wash over me.

My swashbuckling words,

In verses of prose,

On the bosom of a siren.

And my swan song,


A castaway in my inking irons,

Just a shadow now of my chore.

Of distant lore's and sensual sands,

I will return to you on poetic shores.