Captain B


‘Ukiyo 7’ by Captain B


I had doubled my distance from where I had camped all the week before. I had staked out. I had waited. I had observed. I also ate and drank my fill, merrily, something I hadn’t been able to do at home for the chief culprit’s influence and obstruction of a happy version thereof.

I filled the pot nice and stinky and steaming with all the waste and woe accumulated.

Doubled distance, no matter. Raven cawed on and on about as much. He warned of vanity. He warned of desire and vengeance. I laughed to demonstrate nonchalance in the matter. I think he detected the waiver and doubt in my not-as-confident-as-i-wanted-it-to-come-out laughter. I admit. I too detected it.

The plans of the other seemed to have changed.

At nightfall, when it was supposed the target of my sabotage would arrive at his profaned abode, Raven flew in circles above, warning at least, in the minimum, to forfeit a fire this night. I heeded that much and wrapped a blanket around my shoulders. I sipped lukewarm sake and waited.

The piercing scream gave way to trouble and thunder of a ferocious growl. It may have stripped leaves of trees and killed birds and fowl in the immediate vicinity and scene of the crime.

It shook the ground where I sat.

Necromancer would come sooner or later but always when least expected. There would be no true rest for a long while.

I would set out for my less-than-happy home at first light.



Captain B. Seafarer. Lover of shore leave. Collector of heads. Disseminator of tales. Twitter: @NPeligeiro


Read More

‘Whore Pigs’ by Captain B


Bros and Betties gathered between classes
Squinting cuz they all need glasses
(stinky with secreting gasses?)

Time binds their education
Cannot wait till graduation

In their seats their bodies squirming
Today’s exam, brain is churning
Pencil and eraser, but where’s my mind?
Nose is running from the last line



Captain B. Seafarer. Lover of shore leave. Collector of heads. Disseminator of tales. Twitter: @NPeligeiro


Read More

‘Ukiyo 6’ by Captain B


Crouched, I rubbed my bald head, freshly shaven for the occasion.

Arrived on foot. Left the steed behind. Said, rest, repose, respite, old friend. Watch the stead while I’m away.

May lose privileges to the stead for this act.

I could not handle domesticity. Not without her. She was there physically, but she was not all there.

Every night she goes to the brig. In vain, she tries to reason with her beloved but gone astray sister.

The sake I drink tastes flat though I know it is not. There is no lovely player of the lute to serenade the scene or raise her cup to mine. I speak of a plan. She stays silent. Back from another failed intervention, she sits silently until retiring to the bedroom.

Kneeling in a far corner of the room, candle lit, her mother’s beads in her hands, she talks to the same for hours, until long after my eyes have closed, surrendering to sleep.

The four of them know something I don’t. I only ever talk to one of them, but I have told you, she isn’t talking.

She, the mother, the sister, and the necromancer all know when the meeting will take place, a reunion in which two of those hope for reconciliation. But I know the other two seek sinister, just as they always have.

So I gifted the steed interim. Raven accompanied me. He flew on ahead and warned me of any danger.

When we arrived close enough but still at a safe distance from the necromancer’s abode, Raven continued as my eyes in the sky. Few other birds would know how to remain unseen in such close proximity to the realm of the foul.

Power and ego corrupt him. Power and ego blind his eyes.

Hold on to my top-knot for now, Foe. I’ll reclaim it the next time around.

Blind, he believes no one would dare.

A week now in camp, I forewent the bushes in favor of a borrowed bucket from an unlocked door along the way.

I shall return it just after decorating the necromancer’s lair with its bubbling and rank contents.

He chose a good day to seek the eggs from the deepest cave of the Uala lizard. Good for me. Not so for him.

Too bad I cannot stick around long enough to witness the rage, sparks, and thunderbolts when he arrives to find that his mongrel enemy has counted first coup.



Captain B. Seafarer. Lover of shore leave. Collector of heads. Disseminator of tales. Twitter: @NPeligeiro


Read More

‘save the man’ by Captain B


save the man
put a beer in his hand
give his hammock a friendly push
let him sip and doze and dream
and repeat
it’s sunday and not quite time
to get the coals ready to grill
in between scenes
the last a little obscene, disturbing
might be titled
part II: my octopus lover
not an orifice left unpenetrated
by that aquatic miscreant
suckers, suction, weird
shook it off
sipped some more
looked the other way
and lost myself in the dancing leaves
of the closest tree
when i fell out of that tree
and down the stairs of the drafty building
where i lived some twenty-odd years ago
did i spill a little on my bare chest
i drank it down, crushed the can and threw it on the pile
i got up, got another, and am now breaking sticks for the fire
whispering for monday to stay put and not say a word
it’s only but three o’clock


Captain B. Seafarer. Lover of shore leave. Collector of heads. Disseminator of tales. Twitter: @NPeligeiro


Read More

‘Ukiyo 5’ by Captain B


I caught up.

You know I did.

You know I arrived just in time.

Didn’t even need my steel.

My steed suggested I dismount and he stay back. Other horses and dogs might detect him. I wore an amulet to guard against such things. It would work with the two-brained beasts. It would not against sorcerer or sorceress.

The Delilah, whose name is Daitan, and she was a daring and bold one, had her there, my love, my light, her twin sister and worst enemy.

She’d already drained me and claimed my top knot. Who knew that in youth, strand by strand, hair by hair, she’d planned the same for her dear and beloved sister?

And the wig fashioned, she wore. It stood on end. Dark clouds rolled. Thunder boomed. Lightning licked and lit her sinister smile.

My beloved stood frozen in her tracks. She could not move. She was paralyzed except for her eyes. Her remarkable ears had already picked up my silent-to-most-and-nearly-all footsteps. Her sister might have had the sensitivity too had she not been drunk on the lust for absolute power.

Nearing, sword sheathed, I would not need it, I felt my beloved’s tension dissipate. With her beautiful opal eyes, she feigned and called attention to a mole which peaked its head from a hole.

Daitan, we shouldn’t mention her name, followed the gaze. Lightning shot from her eyes and the mole was no more.

One second too late, but only for the mole, I thrust from back foot. Distance covered, I snatched the contraband hairpiece just as Niko leapt. She and her once most-intimate-of-intimates rolled and grappled. I was quick with the flint. It sparked first off. I held the sinister weave to flame. The smoke nearly put me down. Intoxicating it was.

I held. It burned. My hand and arm will bear permanent scars, but any of the manuals would instruct to never let go until the deed done and the task completed.

As sister’s power drained, Niko wrapped her up and secured the fetters.

I might have made a stronger case for execution, but with family matters, an in-law should know his place.

After taking care of all the propers and paperwork at the bastille, back at the minka, over roasted duck rubbed thick with chopped garlic and ginger, sipping sake, Niko’s barefoot resting on my shoulder, her slightly opened kimono winking at a sublime future, we speculated the whereabouts of the necromancer and the other queue in question.

But no. Absolutely not. There was no haste. We saved it for another day. This night we celebrated victory.



Captain B. Seafarer. Lover of shore leave. Collector of heads. Disseminator of tales. Twitter: @NPeligeiro


Read More

‘Legacy’ by Captain B


My father
was bastard son of an emperor
I am
bastard son of an abbot
As he was whisked away and hidden
I grew up on monastery grounds
Nobody except my mother or father
ever talked of my parentage
but it was known to most
and not such a shocking thing
if one knew my father

I called him neither father nor papa
but the word in our language for abbot
like in many other tongues
shares the same etymological root

He was never given anything
by my, i suppose, grandfather
but he put me under his wing
and taught me the brand
that made him unique and famous

It had been no bigger shock to anyone
than him when he was appointed his station
Rogue, eccentric, unpredictable
had made him a character
among (in too many cases)
pious posers
perpetuating pomp, perversion
(secretly of course or so supposed)
and position

Another realm pointed him out
The few who cherished and sought the original way
the impetus and initial version
put him in his post to recall a pure form

Father did not suffer fools
He only pointed when to demonstrate the false
He wrote verse and only sought true
whether that was the delicacy of fresh octopus
(Oh his herbivore contemporaries loved to cite that one)
or the beauty and caress of his most favorite lover
who happened not to be my mother
but a blind and lovely musician
Of course
none are more beautiful than my mother
Father and mother
always remain great friends

But he made sure i worked the fields and orchards
He was also strict about my leaving at a logical age
to roam and explore
sail the seas and discover new lands
excite the palate with new flavors
experience the same or similar ingredients
prepared in different ways
so as to taste
for the first time
as place and sun’s position
altitude or near the sea
who you’re with or without
the language, commotion, or silence
buzzing or humming about you
can all influence anything and everything
greatly and peculiarly

it’s your nature
to the flower

The first time he sent me on my way
he said
See you in five years

I came home for one
then left again for seven
This repeated another time
The last sojourn eight years

When i returned
he didn’t need to tell me
his time was nigh

I would not be named in his place
nor did i want that in the least
In my last absence
he had accepted his greatest
(Aside from me, he said. Though
fathers might say such things)
A former opera star
and whether she has any say or not
an always and forever beauty queen
(Yes, the only one to rival)

She’d long wearied of the high society
the social circles, the beautiful but empty
thus, far from truly beautiful

You do not want to argue with the abbess
If you must question her
be a bit cunning and indirect about it

She does not preach lofty things
enamored by the sound of her own voice
No, that is not our way

Some talk when she can be found
at my side drinking wine from my orchards
and roasting lamb or pheasant or trout
but only on holy days
Yes, holy days

Some nights we sleep in her chambers
just neighboring the main temple
Often we sleep here in the cottage
my old but still spritely mother
in a comfortable but smaller abode
out back

We try to live by my father’s adage
which he didn’t invent
but only tried to relay
and exemplify
from the wisdom of generations

Do no evil
Do much good

He’d laugh
Too easy for you?
Just try it
Of course
Neither, both, and all exist beyond

He loved to laugh, quote, and compose
The Elder sang while drunk
and the other
His nest must have been cold
Old codger!


Captain B. Seafarer. Lover of shore leave. Collector of heads. Disseminator of tales. Twitter: @NPeligeiro


Read More

‘Ukiyo 4’ by Captain B


When he came here, they called him ugly. They threw rocks at him for the way he spoke his mother’s tongue.

Our tongue.

Cordially, he expertly dodged rocks till the day he decided to throw back. I, with my sister, sat atop a hill and watched him return fire. Each projectile found its mark. He did not miss, and his tormentors became the first to fear him most. The berth they gave him when he walked down the village’s main road, nothing but a dirt path rutted from the wheels of many wagons, many hooves, was impressive.

When he came upon me as I bathed at what in that moment became my former secret spot on the river, we never again parted.

After our first intimacy, I looked up to see my sister. The look on her face that day was new. I shiver and wish not to describe it. Lamentably, I have now become accustomed to it. It is the only way she now looks at me.

After the last attempt at sabotage, as he carried her shackled over his shoulder, he joked that execution and getting it over with would lead to much less future strife.

He jested, and though the situation terrible, understands that any attempts on my life do not change that to me she is still my sister.



Captain B. Seafarer. Lover of shore leave. Collector of heads. Disseminator of tales. Twitter: @NPeligeiro


Read More

‘an evening’ by Captain B

an evening

the coldest of the beer
i’ve had in these five past
vacation days
and this, the fifth day

night fallen

back from camping
the landscape
on all sides

i’ll go with friends
stopped home
for a change of clothes
a bed

it’s Friday
this chest and its cold contents
will go down redondo
round down, soothing spiral
a bit of grounding
heavier sleep for the bones
there’s but
a little rum

tomorrow we hike
San Marcos Arteaga
climb up

in the canyon
top of the mountain
the river that runs through it
seeking secrets

nothing exaggerated tonight
a gentle easing
into it
how i love
cool sheets

but only after
this long
and moonlit

my neighbor is on her terrace
i on my roof
cool night
she can’t see me
she has on a blinding light
she likes to watch her cats play
i do too
from where i sit
she drinks white wine
her husband comes out from
time to time
not fooling anyone
she’ll hide the cigarette she is smoking
one link in a long chain
behind her back
when he comes out
she won’t take a drag
till he’s back inside

dreamt of an ex-girlfriend last night
thought of her most of the day
sometime since
attention turned

a flock of white birds
just flew overhead
a flock of white birds
just flew overhead

it’s been good conversation
this night
me and all the i’s
those others too

understand now
the dangers
of starving
the wolf?

my long drink
off to cool sheets
let the creatures of the night


Captain B. Seafarer. Lover of shore leave. Collector of heads. Disseminator of tales. Twitter: @NPeligeiro


Read More
1 2 3 4 5 6