Black Poetry : the captain of the pleasures from the deep...


Well-Known Member
Jan 28, 2001
the near north
I walk...

strolling in the twilight
of love's last gleam
a future of weeping widows
crying in the night
as satisfying delights
wash over their

i see
honey suckles
at the thought of great sinning
heaped upon them by
gentle men and women
that know nothing 'bout
knuckle heads
like you and me

i hear
betty sue
billy joe
aboriginal tunes
from down below
as steam from the hot streams
seep into folds
and caress after caress
elicits a strange

i don't know if it's so
if the little man drowned
as he rowed in his boat
when the currents began to swell
from the bottom of the sea
but every since that night
no one has seen, or heard, from he
who claimed to be the captain
of the pleasures from the deep
who rides the waves of bliss
and taste the joys of sweet release

the mound flooded over
as the hairy one did weep

did you see
did you see

where did he go

do you know
do you know

as the currents settled down
and its flooding ways did cease
and the rumblings from the deep
gave way to moans of blissful peace
and the fire breathing dragon
spew its lava-like honey no more
she tried to stand up sraight
but she could not...

****, baby, i'm sore.

before you wake the fiery dragon
before he rumbles from the deep
before you stay the moan of peace
before you strain for this release
before you cast aside the captain
of the pleasures from the deep
inform all of those around
a flood is coming
your bow is weak


let the flood gates open.:)


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