Poems for the Brave

The Pirate's Call Part 3

"What'll it be first?" He grins, stepping forth.
And the first petal falls,
From our young white rose.
She lifts her head and her pale skin glows,
"I'd like an adventure,
But that you already know."
His smile turns crooked and
Eyes grow mean.
"Don't be coy little flower."
He whispers with glee.
Taken by the heat and seductive waves
The girl braves a smile
And nothing more she says,
Only her unskilled fingers work
As her dress falls away.
And her innocence glows to him,
A fresh lily - unscathed.
Alleviated he covers her,
Beard claiming her mouth.
She moans with new found pleasure,
An adventure! No doubt.
He licks away at her porcelain skin
And it falls slowly away
Pirate strips the petals,
Plunging through her delicate array.
But ah! The pain!
She pushes away,
Oceans swim in her depths
As rouge eclipses her legs.
The Pirate cries
Rugged needs half satisfied,
A naked sapling in the palms of winter...
She's a stripped rose,
And he's her elegant winner.
Broken and scathed she steps forth
Grabs the Pirate's gun
And shakes it till he's sore.
He moans, ordained,
Then she pulls it away
And cocking the trigger
She shoots straight through his brain.
Bang bang! The monster is dead,
Blood seeping from his head,
She falls back, down the track,
And eyeing the carnage
Reaches her colourful climax.
A shawl of birds fly at the sound of her cry,
Bursting through the canopy
They are a plethora of colour
As they form a fleshy tear,
In the sky of sparkling wonder.