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‘fairy dust’ by Captain B
fairy dust
she’s spritely
keeps her hair short like many a pixie would
i’ve glimpsed her a few times out of the corner of my eye
haven’t yet caught up with her
she’s quick and spry and can fly
she’s a fairy
i have to take care in my approach
even when her wings are folded
she leaves no tracks on the snowy ground
i wouldn’t want to corner her
but if i could somehow get ahead enough
to walk the path in an opposite direction
to bring about a face-to-face encounter
i may just have a little luck
till then
i’m working on brooding, brutish and heavy steps
and to do away with them
she could tell me the tales i’ve been aching to hear
and take me to the places i’ve longed to visit
WHO IS CAPTAIN B?
Captain B. Seafarer. Lover of shore leave. Collector of heads. Disseminator of tales. Twitter: @NPeligeiro
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‘Daddy said i had to quit you’ by Captain B
Daddy said i had to quit you
Daddy said i had to quit you
She told the teary eyed lad
Smoking those gross cherry cigarettes
He thought made him look older, an intellectual
He’s an intelligent kid. I’ll give him that
You’re from the wrong side of the tracks
Daddy says so. Chiapas is no place
A stunning princess from Guanajuato
Could ever live
He was stunned
Sorry, Arturo, you’re a good guy
But you’re growing up quick
Rubi, gonna take some time still
If i run into him at La Chingada
I’ll buy him a drink
Display the smoking of hand-rolled
Strong and pure tobacco
As high fashion
While the bartender faithfully
Plays my list
Of essential
Rock’n roll
Spin the bottle
Point el joven
To the table of three
Universitarias
Waiting to be approached
After one more pull each
One for confidence
The other for longevity
Holster the bottle
And give the boy
With the regal name
A friendly shove
WHO IS CAPTAIN B?
Captain B. Seafarer. Lover of shore leave. Collector of heads. Disseminator of tales. Twitter: @NPeligeiro
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‘a happy shipwreck’ by Captain B
a happy shipwreck
a happy shipwreck
i die every night
and am born again
every day
at least that’s how it’s been going
one day i’ll figure it out
or not
and it’ll all be over
and i won’t care
all conditions, charts, and compasses
indicate to steer clear of that storm
but she’s too enticing
yarrrrrrr!
i’ll be a happy shipwreck
maybe none of the others
knew how to navigate those waters
maybe i’m the man
i’ll keep a log
i’ve got provisions
my face is cut by the sun
my skin is salty
going to make it or break it
some horizons just beg too convincingly
WHO IS CAPTAIN B?
Captain B. Seafarer. Lover of shore leave. Collector of heads. Disseminator of tales. Twitter: @NPeligeiro
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‘Whore Pigs’ by Captain B
WHORE PIGS
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
OH LAWN CHAIR!!!!!
WHO IS CAPTAIN B?
Captain B. Seafarer. Lover of shore leave. Collector of heads. Disseminator of tales. Twitter: @NPeligeiro
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‘save the man’ by Captain B
SAVE THE MAN
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
WHO IS CAPTAIN B?
Captain B. Seafarer. Lover of shore leave. Collector of heads. Disseminator of tales. Twitter: @NPeligeiro
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‘Legacy’ by Captain B
LEGACY
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
Fūryū
Bee
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)
pupil
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
past
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
Ha!
and the other
His nest must have been cold
Old codger!
WHO IS CAPTAIN B?
Captain B. Seafarer. Lover of shore leave. Collector of heads. Disseminator of tales. Twitter: @NPeligeiro
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‘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
cacti
on all sides
tomorrow
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
too
tomorrow we hike
San Marcos Arteaga
climb up
descend
swim
magic
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
drink
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
elsewhere
a flock of white birds
doves?
just flew overhead
a flock of white birds
doves?
just flew overhead
it’s been good conversation
this night
me and all the i’s
those others too
understand now
Baal?
the dangers
of starving
the wolf?
my long drink
drained
off to cool sheets
let the creatures of the night
be
WHO IS CAPTAIN B?
Captain B. Seafarer. Lover of shore leave. Collector of heads. Disseminator of tales. Twitter: @NPeligeiro
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‘Plans for repose’ by Captain B
PLANS FOR REPOSE
going back
it was good to be home
a long holiday visit
a long journey and campaign
this year
i was bearing gifts
there were those i had to see
on other matters
the winter was upon us
best to just survive
but when spring arrived
our journey would
and could only be timed
to arrive some months later
for their spring
in the land we had to visit
for reasons
we had not a clue
WHO IS CAPTAIN B?
Captain B. Seafarer. Lover of shore leave. Collector of heads. Disseminator of tales. Twitter: @NPeligeiro