I stand before you a King
A court of gods at my feet
They bow to me in worship
In jest
In mocking of my demise
Self-inflicted
And total

I raise my eyes
A yawning expanse before me
I have become a wisp
In the night
Journeyer to places
Spoken of only in dead tongues
Which will not be named again
Until this tongue itself has died

There I’ve found the beasts
Which wallow in the blackest mire
Scraping
Gnawing
Strafing
Wasting
Frightening
Guarding

The treasures
I came here
First
To seek

I tried to write a poem
But it was rambling and pointless
And now I find myself

Rambling

Pointlessly

About a poem that doesn’t exist

Now Billy was OG down D Street
Where Joey got dead beat
Caught mean heat down D Street
Where Billy was OG
Cop beats beat pig feet when Billy was OG
But Billy run quick flee
When Joey caught mean heat down D Street where Billy was OG

Now Billy got mad beef
Got kids feed
Their mother’s got DTs
But Billy run quick flee from D street where cops don’t beat pig feet since Joey got dead beat caught mean heat

Now Billy caught clean chrome to dome piece
Got kids feed
Their mother’s got DTs
And Billy caught clean chrome to dome piece from mad beef down D street where Billy was OG but Billy run quick flee from mean heat that Joey caught dead beat

You see
There’s things in life we lose that can not be found

There’s things in life we lose that can not be found

Not be found

Not be found

1:45 PM

My clock falls from the wall

Unacted upon by outside forces

The time reads

1:34

And 33 seconds

Loved the way dope moved
Stretched it for his cousin who
Rode bikes out in Lynn for a living

He one two stepped
A couple bundles from a stick
Caught his first finger
Flipped it cuffed a brick

Some boys caught wind
Bucked him right upside the neck
Now his cousin’s in some debt
And he can’t be found

“You’re a ******* ugly mug,”she said.

Fragile lace
Draping from the nape of her neck
Fair skin glowing
Preternatural in the waning moonlight

Soft hair framing
Sharp full eyes
Piercing through the bedroom wall
As if to stare at the painting
In the next room

“I’d imagine much of the world is to you,” I reply.

The spirits of those who came before chase me

The find me on the border of dreams

They haunt me with whispers of things to come

Cities not yet burned
Blood not yet spilled

The history of humanity is a history of war

They tell me I have victory coursing through my veins

That my mind is the storm from whence the Tuatha De descend

That my voice is the flame with which Fafnir conquered

That the Hall is open for me if I choose to take up my blade and walk

The history of humanity is a history of war

Fought for land
For lineage
For freedom

But what of this modern warfare

Fought for the whim of puppeteers

Fought for the ideologies of elitists

Fought to pave new paths of corruption

In hopes that they might relieve us the ******* of the former

How does one know what to stand for when all one knows is corrupt

How does one fight in a war against violence

Take up thy blade

Walk