Treasure Island

Captain Cur


Tombs of the Dead, Pirate Adventures (8)

Cavernous dank walls breeding fang tipped black
bats squealing warnings surrounding our craft,
lungs breathing moist crisp elemental air
un-tasted by man, unhinged in a tear,

queerness invades rising unfeasible founts
gushing springs play, defying gravity mounts
spraying force skyward sun saturate rings
captured iridescent rainbow birds sing.

Emblazoned storm clouds rush sweeping the hills
verdant rich green lands wait drinking their fill
unreachable trees immeasurably tall
rooted in unrelenting rock faced falls

crashing in streams redoubtably pours
carving islands eternal life tours
disappearing in earthen caverns below
rejuvenating springs recycling flow.

Arched causeways chiseled by masterful waves,
dutifully work then find peace in the bays
cascading steps in long spiraling climb
rock sculptures etched by the droplets of time.

Tracing shadows venturing Curdi's womb,
candlelit temple's endless cryptic tombs,
silently sleeping adorned in dream mesh
the winged angels child's hallowed smooth flesh.

Witches were there in black ancestral garb
performing rituals on each soul they rob,
one of them turned and perilously said;
'Who dares desecrate the tombs of the dead.'

Submitted: Sunday, January 27, 2013
Edited: Friday, February 22, 2013

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