Plunged
Commodore Louis has a dream that we all know. A dream that will never come true, fortunately, because what do we still have otherwise. That dream was forced on him and on us as well, what he and we really wanted has been unlearned. That goes for all of us, including those others, you know, the rich and fortunate and all that.
No, it's just one of those days again. The weather forecasts don't promise what the sky really looks like. It is as if they are in the eye of Jupiter, calm before the actual storm. Namely, the real storm, not the one in their hearts and minds. The wind is picking up, and the waves are getting bigger by the second. The wooden ship creaks, the rigging tightens. The blocks rattle with each shake, and the swell pounds and pounds against the hull. Billy Budd reefs the sails, reducing the area that catches wind. Then he crawls towards the front through the bowsprit into the jib net and while he is thrown three meters up and down every other turn, he takes out the genoa sail. As nauseous as a crab, he plows his way back down the side deck to the wheelhouse. Nameless, the muskrat, not the ship, gets too cramped, and in his panic wants to gnaw its way through the boat. And so the old sailor wisdom is once again confirmed that rabbits and other rodents do not belong on shaky gaff schooners and relatives. Louis is losing his love for animals, now that Nameless has already bitten himself through the hull to such an extent that he is only attached to the inside of the ship with his tailbone. The seawater flows into the living spaces with starfish and whelks. A dazed electric eel also squeaks in to light a candle.
"The pumps, Captain, where are the pumps?" Billy screams. "We have to start with emptying the bilges, for ...".
"For what? Before the free liquid surface compromises stability? There are no pumps, Billy. Everything is in vain. ” "What do you mean, Captain, everything is in vain?" “I threw everything overboard in a mean mood, Billy. I'm sorry, but if it never ends, sometimes you have to lend a hand to fate. If I want to go, let it be on the high seas. With jellyfish feasting of my face, swordfish piercing my skeleton, and sea urchins pinning themselves into my softened skin. Drowning. The last breath nipped in the bud by salt water digesting my lungs. I want to dissolve, as a salt tablet, compost for sponges and coral reef. Because rather that than getting old and yearning. Heartbroken for she who has since long turned her back. What's worse, she who breaks the divine prohibition and looks back and then turns into a pillar of salt, or she who has never looked back? I've lost her for a long time, but what is the worst evil, Billy, do you think?” “Have you lost your mind, Old Man? I don't want to die yet. Where are the life rafts?” Billy Budd shakes his ass and gives Nameless a death kick against his ass, finally freeing him from the hole he got stuck in chewing it. He lands in the swirling water of a vengeful sea, and the salty water now pours into the sailboat with cubic liters. "Where are those rafts, Commodore?" Billy screams with adrenaline and a zest for life and grabs his long-standing father figure by the lapel. “A seaman's grave, yes, our element will slowly but surely seep into us,” the captain spits in the face of his sailor. "God, the radio ..." Billy hurries to the navigation table, but the water had already paralyzed the electricity. “You will be reunited with your mother, Baby Budd, and I can wait for her. Her. The love that never died. Until death will reunite us. Beyond death ... “
Billy Budd lets Louis rave further, and digs in the ship's chests for useful material. "Madame Nybros," he murmurs, "Baron Samedi, Yemaya, Yemaya, Aguanile, Mai Mai, Aguanile." That's what he remembers about the voodoo of his childhood, and after finding and firing a few flares, he throws the ship's log overboard. "Get rid of it!" But that's reckoned without Nameless, who bites its teeth stuck in this floating swampy role of nautical lore. "Damn rat", Billy thinks as the schooner slowly loses the battle against the leak in his hull. Bright red lights up the sky between two wave valleys. Billy can no longer stand it and slaps his Old Captain into dreamland. He then takes him on his shoulders and jumps into the no man's land of swirling waves. And then the light went out.
Commodore Louis has a dream that we all know. A dream that will never come true, fortunately, because what do we still have otherwise. That dream was forced on him and on us as well, what he and we really wanted has been unlearned. That goes for all of us, including those others, you know, the rich and fortunate and all that.
No, it's just one of those days again. The weather forecasts don't promise what the sky really looks like. It is as if they are in the eye of Jupiter, calm before the actual storm. Namely, the real storm, not the one in their hearts and minds. The wind is picking up, and the waves are getting bigger by the second. The wooden ship creaks, the rigging tightens. The blocks rattle with each shake, and the swell pounds and pounds against the hull. Billy Budd reefs the sails, reducing the area that catches wind. Then he crawls towards the front through the bowsprit into the jib net and while he is thrown three meters up and down every other turn, he takes out the genoa sail. As nauseous as a crab, he plows his way back down the side deck to the wheelhouse. Nameless, the muskrat, not the ship, gets too cramped, and in his panic wants to gnaw its way through the boat. And so the old sailor wisdom is once again confirmed that rabbits and other rodents do not belong on shaky gaff schooners and relatives. Louis is losing his love for animals, now that Nameless has already bitten himself through the hull to such an extent that he is only attached to the inside of the ship with his tailbone. The seawater flows into the living spaces with starfish and whelks. A dazed electric eel also squeaks in to light a candle.
"The pumps, Captain, where are the pumps?" Billy screams. "We have to start with emptying the bilges, for ...". "For what? Before the free liquid surface compromises stability? There are no pumps, Billy. Everything is in vain. ” "What do you mean, Captain, everything is in vain?" “I threw everything overboard in a mean mood, Billy. I'm sorry, but if it never ends, sometimes you have to lend a hand to fate. If I want to go, let it be on the high seas. With jellyfish feasting of my face, swordfish piercing my skeleton, and sea urchins pinning themselves into my softened skin. Drowning. The last breath nipped in the bud by salt water digesting my lungs. I want to dissolve, as a salt tablet, compost for sponges and coral reef. Because rather that than getting old and yearning. Heartbroken for she who has since long turned her back. What's worse, she who breaks the divine prohibition and looks back and then turns into a pillar of salt, or she who has never looked back? I've lost her for a long time, but what is the worst evil, Billy, do you think?” “Have you lost your mind, Old Man? I don't want to die yet. Where are the life rafts?” Billy Budd shakes his ass and gives Nameless a death kick against his ass, finally freeing him from the hole he got stuck in chewing it. He lands in the swirling water of a vengeful sea, and the salty water now pours into the sailboat with cubic liters. "Where are those rafts, Commodore?" Billy screams with adrenaline and a zest for life and grabs his long-standing father figure by the lapel. “A seaman's grave, yes, our element will slowly but surely seep into us,” the captain spits in the face of his sailor. "God, the radio ..." Billy hurries to the navigation table, but the water had already paralyzed the electricity. “You will be reunited with your mother, Baby Budd, and I can wait for her. Her. The love that never died. Until death will reunite us. Beyond death ... “
Billy Budd lets Louis rave further, and digs in the ship's chests for useful material. "Madame Nybros," he murmurs, "Baron Samedi, Yemaya, Yemaya, Aguanile, Mai Mai, Aguanile." That's what he remembers about the voodoo of his childhood, and after finding and firing a few flares, he throws the ship's log overboard. "Get rid of it!" But that's reckoned without Nameless, who bites its teeth stuck in this floating swampy role of nautical lore. "Damn rat", Billy thinks as the schooner slowly loses the battle against the leak in his hull. Bright red lights up the sky between two wave valleys. Billy can no longer stand it and slaps his Old Captain into dreamland. He then takes him on his shoulders and jumps into the no man's land of swirling waves. And then the light went out.
James Carr - Pouring Water on A Drowning Man
