The Mariner's Dream

The dead albatross has acquired a stench  
Dangling around his neck  
The curse nevertheless keeping him alive  
"The ice was here, the ice was there"  
He sings, sailing for warmer climes  
He has read the "myth" of sirens  
Beauties singing men to madness  
And graves sixty fathoms under  
He collects the candles, melts them down  
Then places wax deep within his ears  
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The sirens await him on the rocks  
Their aria to be ravished by a sailor long survived  
They will grant him endless pleasure  
Licking, fucking, going down  
He tears off the decayed albatross  
And flings it in the sea  
Allowing it to sink with the bloated weight of years  
He can't hear the sirens singing  
But he can see them, his member growing  
The curse lifted at long last  
He may never become an ancient dog of lore  
Not with youth in perpetuity  
Indulged beneath the tropical sun,.  
 
Inspired by "The Rhyme of the Ancient Mariner"