major storm on the horizon reported from the "Fo'c'sle"

Though forever being a landlubber
a vision analogous to the nether world
deep within the bowels of the Earth
immensely distant from the sheltering sky
amidst a thick fog enveloped landscape
with here and there a projected
craggy, derelict chasm
precipitously crooked
rocky claws pointing toward
an infinitely wide yawning abyss
dwelt kindred spirits
comprising a Soul Asylum,
where The Grateful Dead (albeit marked
via weathered tombstones)
hermetically sealed in Davy Jones locker
once vibrant corporeal mortals
betook their eternal slumber.

Echoing from one end
of the universe to the other
putting to shame the initial big bang
ranking as a mere whimper
that original primordial blast,
which cosmological exploits
generated heavenly sphere instantaneously
comparison viz Krakatoa times Googleplex
essentially reduced to insignificance
albeit on the analogous tinker toy
premised conjectures of brilliant minds
that could only gander feeble educated guesses
asper extraordinary natural phenomena
mortal mankind could never approximate
as belligerent threats
punctuated via nuclear warfare
merely rates as a flickr amidst
uber kindle jump/kick starting,
pinteresting snap chatting
tinder blinks, extinguishes,
snuffs out one lowly
Beatle browed bipedal simian.
While reading the above text,
I could barely keep my eyes opened
and practically dozed off
as the lapping of the ocean
buffeted our sturdy small cruise ship.

Lazing about the "Fo'c'sle..."
sailors situated upon upper deck of their ship
spotted what appeared
to be a humongous, ominous looking,
phenomenal, shape-shifting massive entity
fused between distant land and infinite sky
and moving at lightspeed
toward the prow of their ship.

Within lil more'n a day at most
the coming fury
would impose the wrath of God,
whereby nobody forced
small number of young and old salt
more familiar to the briny deep
then the terra firma underfoot
into the impossible mission
to weather the maelstrom
already passed the point of no return
far too late to never call retreat
tempest will challenge
cutting crew to a ferocious brawl
trumpeting tempestuous donnybrook
chalk slam dunk March madness
closes curtain call
“in like a lion, out like a lamb,”
twill hove tested survivability,
asper flora, thru harsh winter, and
those most searing robust
will have passed thru
brutish, nasty, and short assay
compliments Poseidon
(known as Neptune
in Roman mythology)
upon weathering,
mustering survival skills
and the psyched
by shear blessedness
that lovely lass,
(and countless small children)
awaits sea dogs after pulling thru hellacious
allowing, enabling, and providing
each experienced hand
to “Hoist himself by his own petard,”
with attendant motivating prospect videlicet
regarding unbridled love
the mere thought of leaving behind
a young widow summons
pent up latent energy bursting asunder
envisioned hardened Jack-tar
to cavort, frolic, instigate
wham bam thank you ma'am
soon after making landfall
lollygagging, orchestrating, romancing
while birds and bees pollinate
seeds of life and white lily
jamming, humming, fostering sensational slam
dance, where flora lifts, wafts, and yawps
spring fever that busted out all over
invoking nine months later warble(s), gurgle(s),
burble(s) from new born baby
being rocked back and forth
enroute to visit grandmum
comfortably situated within tram
pleasantly dreaming courtesy
rhythmic clattering over tracks.