November 20, 2025

The Sirens

You can't miss them,

Making the sky flashing red,

Shrill notification through the night.

The vessel operates in the fog

Refusing to signal its own distress,

Pumps out the press releases

That promote its uniqueness.

Still the waters churn

In the eye of the storm.

So much hope's been lost

As a search's been botched.

The flimsy boat lurches to and fro

With the first mate struggling to control.

Cannibalization is setting in,

Survival instincts in the end.

Catastrophe ready to commence.

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I can hear them,

Songs resonating through the hours,

Plaintive pleas to save their souls.

I'd love to think they do not sing to me,

But my Prufrock act can't dim their powers.

Upon this narrow cliff where I retire

They can still tempt me with real estate,

A return to my final resting place.

Their chorale both shrill and thrilling,

It implores me to get on board

And once again serve

In ways I no longer thrive.

My dilemma as they drag the Lake

Is whether to file or not.

Through its mixed messages, my heart aches,

While the Fates seem to curse their lot.