Arcane rumblings bellow out from the infrastructure. The secrets swell out from the wealthy infidels. Their water has broken. The top-hat henchmen gather their whiskers. Stuttering shock and leaking their whispers, vulcan-loud.
The wise old casualties know all of whatβs to come, so they pack their sacks with their old guns to fortify their army of one. The news skips the billions of ignorant families condemning daughters and sons to an army of none.
The first bullets abandon their barrels, the kick-off to pain, from poise. Eager to byte flesh, fur, faith, eager to make some godawful noise. The following blasts are a metallic symphony Quickly looming, swooning, booming into cacophony in shrill-major.
Blood spatters pavement, under marching feet, is dragged, looped about the streets in a homicide calligraphy, paralyzing the squinting mercenaries.
Out come the canons, dancing on their wheels, silencing the gunfire, spinning on their heels, dissenting the sonata with rifle-explosion accompaniment.
Warrior sighs greet the late auxiliary: armadas sing in baritone while civilians scream soprano. Children cry in alto. Blood flows in legato. Today some of us will die so that the rest will open their eyes to an oversky, cloud-bloated with lies.
While down below we blaze away our requiem. And by the hand of this same melody we die. Here lies humanity, fashioning, always, a bellicose smile.