Strange Shore...

  I feel myself an old man

  lost sailing stranger seas

  tacking over gothic reefs

  on bloodied vampire lees 

             …and…

  at times the faces boil up

  aloof stone burning blank

  crest up on a funeral pyre

  burn red-tide airless dank

           … as if…

  the screech of pirate birds

  that prey on nesting gulls

  is all allowed to float 'em

  towards sirens' call above

            …what…

  mutiny murder'n madness

  marooned 'em to such fate

  to crew a Flying Dutchman

  of love run-rigged as hate

            …why…

            …why…

the ancient map's were right

    here there be monsters

          sex serpents

            and death.