im all about poetry now:) i dont have a title, inspired by a true story:
 
HOW richly glows the water's breast
Before us, tinged with evening hues,
While, facing thus the crimson west,
The boat her silent course pursues!
 
A wastoid skipper, the crew does trust to bring the booze,
He knows not a substance, he dont like to abuse.
On this boat theres no place for taking a duece,
Better come prepeared, and dont talk no jive!
The lubbers need him to survive,
Or at a watery grave they would soon arrive.
 
The skipper lets down the sail, they have reached their point.
Time for maxin, relaxin, and to spark-up that joint.
But first, dont forget, the anchor must be dropped,
Not tying it on, I would not opt...
 
That is, unless i was too wasted.
 
Badump! Badump! "what is that sound?"
Its a rock making a hole, pound after pound
They cried:"God save us for being so lubberly!
Im sure we will die in all this Hurly-Bur ly!"
 
After saving the boat, from his own incompetence
Cpt'n said "get yo'self together, the times over for yo' incontinence"
With that he jumped overboard, into the night
the lubbers were in, for such a fright
for if he drown, they'll never be able to dock'er
they'll all end up, as stains in davey jones' locker
 
And so he swam out, into the inky darkness alone
the crew stayed behind, and played with their asses.
 
by GREG SACHS, CAPTAIN S/V ONE ARM SAILOR