Let’s set our course, good captain,
We’ll cut across the current.
We must leave this bay were trapped in,
And escape this viral torrent.
Inflate the boards unnoticed,
Nets filled with all we need.
We must free from this bronchitis,
Or our souls will scar and bleed.
They’ve seen our bow wave forming
No allies to our sides
Armada gathers, ready, there is no weak facade
Radio smashed, as are the phones,
Off grid, head for the edge.
No hate, greed or plastic thrones,
No lies to fill or dredge.
A glance behind and all I see,
Is beleaguered boats and wood.
The dreamers jumped and came with me,
Arms linked on SUPs we stood.
Copyright Pedro Batpoet 2018