A Tearful Pirate's Confession Poem by Chuy Amante

I do run with pirates,
perhaps unlike imagined.

Believe it or not,
I am ship Chaplain!
Blood thirsty and wild,
always ball and cappin'!

I'm not a shooter,
especially not the Captain,
I really am their Holy
Minister,
the ship Chaplain.

They run wild, they rape
and they live for pillage,
most return to ship after
there is no more village.

At night they seem to return
to their senses, in dreams,
all the blood and the loss,
haunting them severely it seems.

They stumble into my room,
deep into their dark nights,
they are looking for solace,
a place away from their frights.

They are rough, tough
and as rugged as they come,
but each has a spark,
hidden deeply, like a Sun!

They come, they confess,
they worry about Hell,
they come, they cry,
a long horrid tale to tell.

We talk about youth
and a few nice memories,
They had few that loved them,
that cared, very sad histories.

We speak of a new world, one not so hard,
a distant hope,
that resonates with their internal Spark,
makes it easier to cope.

We talk of mothers up in heaven,
and kids still pure, animals,
dreams, learning, peace,
a world maybe for next time
after their release...

It reminds them that deep inside
there must still be one drop DIVINE...
When it does come forth
ALL will be beyond fine!




(for full effect, read this listening to 'trembling hands' acoustic version by, The Temper Trap-it rolls like the sea)