The morning mist lies low,
The dew perfumes the grass,
And on it run amok the lads,
Winged feet and sturdy hearts
That spring them up at that dawn
To partake and to indulge in ,
boots, grass and Beauty.
They whisper forward as if one,
Weaving their web of magic,
And should indeed thier lines break,
The rearguard stands tall.
The game though, is won in the middle
Where battle is made upon the playing field,
A conflict of strength and mind and
Of boots, grass and Beauty.
They have won and they have lost,
Yet in a well played game , lie
Neither victory or defeat
For those are realms of honour,
Of pride and joy
Of boots, grass and Beauty.
Nov 16, 2017
Nov 16, 2017 at 4:16 AM UTC
The darkness overcame me,
Those shattered spectacles of fire were all around
As the curtains snapped to over the sun, you took what was mine.
The flames enveloped me, and yet I fought them.
For when I broke cover, the sun was shining,
Clear as it did in days of yore .
Your light had built me, and in that it failed
I fled into the darkness, for my fate led to death,
And to victory over your ambitions.
To fertility over desolation
To prosperity over the darkness that,
Unfolded upon us, like oil on canvas.
And yet I am afraid.
The living have traded for the dead.
The fire dwells over all that resist.
The light of the shadow is fading
Where art thou, o Evenstar, and why do you flee , before our end,
And though you may flee to bright lit shores
Where the maladies of death come to nought
It is we who watch thy girdle
The blood upon our swords and the splinters of our shields,
They hold back what thou fear
The halls of our fathers await.
We are destined to them
And as gentlemen though we fall to
This darkness that you hold
We shall not accept your order,.
And live and die as gentlemen.
For the hour is long gone for negotiation
The vultures gather for their treats
The unhallowed for their rank,
And yet I shall face thee to the death.
The leaving dare not come near us,
The dead dare not pass by
For as the flames of the elder days are stoked
We shall both meet our doom.
The dead watch our front
The living , betray us
But we of the mighty land shall stand
And fall for those that we hold
That mistress is arriving.
Gentlemen, I give you today's victory,
And tonight's mourning.
Feb 19, 2017
Feb 19, 2017 at 9:21 AM UTC
It was amid the conflagration,
That I saw you, sheltered by awe,
And upon that field, where I struggling stood,
Your eyes bore upon me.
The ground was rent with the devil's snare,
The air befuddled by his mystique,
Yet your lure brought me strength.
I crawled through the bloodstained mists,
Over the entrails of a shattered humanity,
And you stood smiling at the door.
I had upon me nought but the sweltering radiance,
For the shadow, he took refuge beyond you
Your fire was my support, your glory was my shield.
I was not lost. For within you lay deliverance.
Labour it was that pushed me forth,
As the abyss of nothing was upon me
The bogs of dereliction lay under my feet. I fell.
The perfumed grass that was under yours beckoned,
I progressed.
And though I battered my demons to reach your sanctuary, you slithered away
There was sorrow behind me,
And ahead, enticing me you stood.
But I cannot reach you.
My strength has been sapped by this journey
My vitals have been beaten into submission
I shall fall here .
Perhaps it is your quest alone that is transcendental
It may be that you are but a mirage .
Even so, as I give away to that eternal night,
Your light flickers in my pupils.
I am lost in sight of your being.
You are the death of me.
Feb 3, 2017
Feb 3, 2017 at 1:08 AM UTC
It is in the realms of being that she ,
flutters, as if inevitable
It is she that traverses the mires of misery,
And infuses the spirits of darkness
Hope, that mistress of ill fortune,
Who deals in honey tongues and flowery words
She twists speech and engages minds
Ensnaring all in her deceit.
She is a lie.
In her absence dwells the warmth of self.
Courage comes when she flees,
For there is no fight that is fought,
Better in her absence.
No impossibility achieved in her presence.
The paths of victory, lead through
The Death of Hope.
The gusts of change leave her shattered in their wake
For when she is vanquished, defeat itself is sweet.
And when her fickle whims are laid to rest
When the constructs of her malignancy laid bare
Comes the sweet dawn of truth.
Her end leads to greater roads.
Those not of victory,but of glory
Of valour that cannot be written
In scripts of her choosing.
The last bugle shall play
The sounds of that charge shall take up our times
The fires shall burn for their sake alone.
And when we come upon that new dawn,
Hallowed in its darkness,
We shall have arrived,
At The Death of Hope.
Nov 29, 2016
Nov 29, 2016 at 7:23 AM UTC
If I die before you wake,
Know that, when darkness fell,
I was standing.
As fire rained from the sky,
I endured it and did dwell
Where the shadow was darkest.
If I die before you wake,
Think of me in that cozy dawn
As the sun lights up your face,
For as you lay, so did I
In the blood of those that
I too did love, and could not save,
As the light faded, from their eyes
If I die before you wake,
Think of those glory days
Of mirth and wine under the sun,
Of laughter and spirit unending,
Drunken nights, and infinite stars
That dwindled into those countless hours
When I die before you wake,
Remember me for what I was,
And mourn not but celebrate
That I fell in lofty company
And have achieved peace that only,
The fallen can.
You my beloved, must soldier on,
Living, for so many who could not
A life without sorrow, a life complete.
Regret nothing, and do not forsake
Yourself, for that which cannot be.
Promise me this, and dream away
For I shall be dead, before you wake.
Oct 19, 2016
Oct 19, 2016 at 4:53 AM UTC
The illumination rounds light up the sky,
My love, and it's time for us to embark
Where the heavens are our cover
The darkness is our saviour, and
Only victory our release.
For you know how it is m' dear
When the lead starts to rain
The field rages hot with fire
And in the heat of it, you alone
Stand besides me, unflinching
Unquenchable spitfire that you are
The world dances to the Lady's whims
The night and snow close around us.
But in you alone, there is a comfort.
To face death and come what may,
For when the sun shines again.
Our hour shall have come.
We march together for glory awaits us
But so does death. And he waits. He watches.
He sends down fire, and splinter and shot and shell
And you never fail to reply .
He shudders the earth and melts rock,
And yet your aim is true.
Victory is enshrined in your musical chatter
For even though I lie, with you in my blood smeared,
You live to fight another day.
My victory is your resilience.
My courage is your accuracy.
My sacrifice is your continuum.
Your mortals have fallen many times afore you.
And yet you soldier on. Unheralded unlike him, with bronze on his chest.
You deal in lead.
And in victory .
At the end of all things, you alone stay with me.
Sep 23, 2016
Sep 23, 2016 at 6:55 AM UTC
In the bosoms of all that is
There is darkness
For all things come from it
And all things end therein
There is peace in the darkness
It is untouched by the entropies of the world
Chaos it knows not, warmth is its being
In its kindly embrace, there is no conflict
There is truth in the darkness
It was before aught else came to be
When even the deeps of time,
lay without foundation,
The darkness reigned supreme
There is wisdom in the darkness
Forever it has sought to teach
That the senses unsullied by light
are pristine, profound and everlasting
There is beauty in the darkness
Such that needs no eyes to see
A realm of peace and harmony
in balance with all that should be
There is life in the darkness
It has fostered all that there is
For it lived before even emptiness came to be
All has passed through its gaze
There is eternity in the darkness
Enduring through the ravaging light it has,
transcended the realms of being
The darkness shall exist
Unconquered, unbroken
and forever awaiting those that seek
the joy ; that dwells only in,
the hallowed immobility
within the halls of darkness
Apr 25, 2016
Apr 25, 2016 at 6:17 AM UTC
The deeps of darkness have been raised
As if their being was kindled.
The warm night of peace is at an end.
The devil is he that rages unchecked this night, and there are none to withstand him.
The shield wall breaks, the cavalry routed, and the meanest defence stands alone.
What shall become of these men?
Death surely, for the miracles of poetry give lie to no truth. The curses of old are set in concrete.
Death has gained his presence here. He smells victory. For the living in their mundanity see only their existence.
This existence that means nothing in the tomes of the greater good.
There is no life, only sorrow.
There is no victory, only decimation.
Only the naive think thus.
Victory is not that of arms and steel.
Nor of land or gold or tales of which bards sing
Victory is in the fight that was fought.
For they that wage the good war, and fight the good fight, all is victory.
Defeat is beyond question. Life is not of consequence.
The act alone reigns supreme.
This isn't joy. This isn't glory.
For victory chooses not the last man to stand, but the last to fall in defiance. Victory belongs to the departed. The victorious dead.
And such as it is. It shall end now.
And it's end alone worthy of song .
For all who bear witness to it.
We die, we do not flee.
Mar 23, 2016
Mar 23, 2016 at 2:32 AM UTC
The end is near.
The door opens
And with it a breath of air
But it is no benign gust
But the warm murky stench of his presence
He is waiting
The clouds enter, and with them bring
The precipitation of the end
Night, that beautiful nurse
Has fallen into the abyss
Overshadowed by blinding destruction
Of that bright inevitable light
Which breeds evil.
Oh what can stand before,
when even the staunchest resistance fails
The unbroken redoubt is surrounded
Beaten back but not broken yet
The end will come
And with it the glittering reminiscence
Of all that was in the peaceful winter
Summer scorches all.
We are overrun
But in these pockets that are still held we remain
Till when must we endure this unknown foe
Where are the songs of old and those who sang them
Where are the mighty, and the feats of arms renowned
The joys of battle and the songs of slaying
Or were they just a dream, that blew into the Blue Mountains
Strong, but ineffective, against those giants of rock
We are dwindling.
Every man watches another's back
But to what avail, when we exist only in demarcation
A mere clean spot on the sullied canvas of the world
As we knew it. It too shall fall.
There is no glory to be found here.
For even though we hold, we give way
A yard at a time. The dirge goes up a note
We strive to make a worthy end.
Yet to whom shall it be of worth?
There are none left to sing songs of our courage
No one to recite lays of this defiance.
Not even the foolhardy dare to hope.
For there is no one to hope for.
We know of our end. We have made peace with this war.
It shall consume us.
We shall all fall, and yet, none will be left behind.
Nov 16, 2015
Nov 16, 2015 at 2:30 PM UTC
The game of death knows no bounds.
He is on our tail.
The flotsam of his being approaches.
Light slaughters the darkness.
The warm breeze is but the reek of his presence.
He is watching.
Killing is inevitable.
A whirlwind of shadow is upon us.
The fallen have passed into eternity
Those waiting, project their shadow.
Life is the realm of fruitless combat.
The dead have seen peace.
Victory is a degenerate passion.
Survival is glory.
Sep 22, 2015
Sep 22, 2015 at 12:17 PM UTC