The King of Shards and Metal Shaving,
His consort; Queen of Flaking Rust,
and the Prince of Powdered Pulverized Stone
reign over nothing but dust.
All they fear is a sudden gust
- a brazen wind or rebel breeze
that dares expose landscapes of chalky bone:
skeleton-subjects who once bent knees,
millions who bowed to their Majesties
proclaiming idiot-edicts, raving,
"This is Holy War!" "Righteous!" "Just!"
Now they are bleached remains past saving.
Blood was the wasted acid engraving
tributes in sand to names-unknown.
And none now hear the royal decrees
from each clown on each crumbling tin-foil throne.
The King of Gasping, Dying Moan,
The Queen of Last Convulsive Breath,
and the Prince of the Final Beat of the Heart
rule in their realm of death.
Jun 13, 2015
Jun 13, 2015 at 8:13 AM UTC
The King of Shards and Metal Shaving,
His consort; Queen of Flaking Rust,
and the Prince of Powdered Pulverized Stone
reign over nothing but dust.
All they fear is a sudden gust
- a brazen wind or rebel breeze
that dares expose landscapes of chalky bone:
skeleton-subjects who once bent knees,
millions who bowed to their Majesties
proclaiming idiot-edicts, raving,
"This is Holy War!" "Righteous!" "Just!"
Now they are bleached remains past saving.
Blood was the wasted acid engraving
tributes in sand to names-unknown.
And none now hear the royal decrees
from each clown on each crumbling tin-foil throne.
The King of Gasping, Dying Moan,
The Queen of Last Convulsive Breath,
and the Prince of the Final Beat of the Heart
rule in their realm of death.
I wanted to try an irregular rhyme-scheme for this anti-war poem.
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