On Freeing Myself from a Full Nelson Hold

For years he left a cavitation
That sent disturbing waves throughout my brain;
A kind of inner, mental fomentation
That only recently I can explain.

I think it was the thought of amputation
And phantom pain that makes a man to sob,
And hearing always cited that quotation
About the need for men to do their job;

Or prior to my seasoned maturation
I somehow thought it quite romantic
To navigate triangulations
Then die dramatic deaths in the Atlantic.

“ I am done for,” was what he finally said.
And now for me the admiral’s finally dead.