guilt

The USS Towers: A Sailor’s Lament

/ M.Hatter / Leave a comment

There she is,

Rusting under the fucking waves,
Our eternal mistress sleeps,
steel heart still.

We’re topside now,
but her ghost still raves,
In the depths where our memories chill.

Her engines’ dirty growl echoes in my head,
stale AC’s sour breath,
salt on my tongue.

Our small destroyer,
pitching, we bled,

Puking our guts out,

God, how we are wishing we were young again.

Mess decks,
a cesspool of stories and grease,

Hot, nasty coffee could raise the dead.

Shitty midrats barely kept the cold at bay,

Bitter sludge burning holes in our head.

Tossed us around like goddamn rag dolls,

Yet kept the enemy away,
our steel mother.

After long watches,
fucking dead on our feet,

She’d rock us to sleep like no other.

They sank her for practice, our old girl,

A fucking exercise,
that’s all she was worth.

Silent rage burns,
as memories unfurl,

Of our home, our hell,
now in the earth.

One by one,
we’ll ship out again,

Join that endless fucking Westpac cruise.

No more bullshit,
no more pain,

Just the freedom we finally get to choose.

She sails on through the starry night,

Her crew aboard,
forever free.

No brass to polish, no watches to fight,

Just us, our old gal,
and the endless sea.

M.Hatter

Memory

/ M.Hatter / Leave a comment

In a dark, smoky corner of a forgotten bar,

Where the neon lights flicker like dying stars,

I sit alone, with a drink in hand,

A man whose life never went as planned.

My fingers trace the rim of the glass,

Each scratch a memory of a love that didn’t last,

The stale air heavy with tales of regret,

Of dreams unfulfilled and debts unpaid yet.

The bartender, she nods, knowing all too well,

The stories this man’s weary eyes could tell,

Of days spent toiling under a merciless sun,

Nights lost in shadows, nowhere to run.

My laughter, now, is a crackling radio, static and spent,

Echoing in a room where hours are bent,

Where hope is a coin tossed in a wishing well,

And fate, a dealer with nothing left to sell.

The lines on my face, a roadmap of sorrow,

Each wrinkle a path I’d tread again tomorrow,

For in this world of steel, smoke, and grime,

I’m just another soul, lost in time.

So, in the end, I raise my glass to the ghosts in the room,

To the dreams that died, the love that met its doom,

In a world that spins too fast for those who walk slow,

Im a man who’s been everywhere but has nowhere to go.

The door at the end of a dark hallway called judgement

/ M.Hatter / Leave a comment 
 
 You shuffle your feet
 with purposeful delay
 for insanity is 
 not too far away

 The pain from your past
 paints the walls 
 of this dark hall 
 your conscious wont last
 
 Cold Shivers, run down
 your spine
 your guilt, has
 soured the wine
 
 From under the closed doors
 light spills out
 Wait, this can’t be happening
 Where is your doubt?
 
 You start to pray
 But what will God say?
 Will you be forgiven today?
 
 You hear laughter and confusion
 while on your knees,
 praying for absolution
 But you find there's no easy solution

 when questioned of faith
 what did you used to say?
 Who is God anyway?
 
 You must walk 
 and do the time 
 each room you pass 
 is your crime
 
 It was hard to conceive
 your part in this, 
 difficult to believe

 screams of anger flood your ears
 from all the people 
 you hurt throughout the years
 
 You had no shame
 you played your game
 they didn't know your name
 or did they?

 The end is near
 funny, you have fear

 There is no one to save you
 except one, 
 who happens to be
 the one 
 that betrayed you
 
 Who can that be? 
 Why you, obviously
 Can't you see?
 
 Now down on your knees
 What say you?