Painted sunsets kissed metal, embraced salt
as mermaids held up the champagne flutes,
celebrating the launch of this monstrous
pleasure craft--a floating dream factory.
Deckhands whispered, "God's own stepladder,"
lifting souls higher with each overweighted
oesophageal sigh. Deck chairs arranged like
aliens awaiting the mayor of Moonville.
People, tiny as teacups, stacked like secrets,
occupied cabins while disco lights blinked,
stars unsure if they were part of the dance.
Anchors marooned in disbelief and jellyfish.
Swollen casino held the misled hearts, dealt
abyssal poker hands by whispery chief wizards.
Angled views from the panorama room witnessed
nothing but ocean swallowing itself in a loop.
A revelation: the Leviathan wasn't a cruiser,
but a sermon of human folly shaped in steel.
Endless horizon doubled as mocking laughter,
waves applauding the foolishness admiring itself.
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Author:
gray0328 (
Offline) - Published: January 8th, 2025 12:08
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 19
- Users favorite of this poem: Cheeky Missy, Mutley Ravishes
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Comments2
The hights of luxury dipped in debauchery. Technology for the wealthy devoted to pleasure.
Have you heard the Bill Burr's take on cruise ships at a show in Nashville?! (Bill gets a little "violent").
Great write.
I've been working security for carnival Cruise line for 20 years and my friend had the best description of a carnival Cruise, it is a floating Walmart. 😂
Haha! Well, I guess we're taking the pleasure principle to its limits. I can't imagine how this would look 100 years from now. (I doubt it will be given that much time)
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