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Zywa Aug 2023
We're barbarians:

people who destroy what they --


do not understand.
Novel "The PowerBook" (2000, Jeanette Winterson), chapter "OPEN HARD DRIVE"

Collection "May the Might"
Zywa Aug 2023
Sometimes civilised,

refined and choosy, sometimes --


a barbarian.
Novel "The PowerBook" (2000, Jeanette Winterson), chapter "OPEN HARD DRIVE"

Collection "May the Might"
David Hasselblad Mar 2019
Final Sunrise: Ode To A Soldier

I ran all throughout the night,
Scrambling clumsily through
foreign forests,
Exhausting my mere mortal might,
Hollers and whoops follow in chorus,

Struggling to believe, this is true,
This tree looks tall and strong,
Perhaps I’ll rest for a wink or two,
Rest the wounds that bleed my brawn,

Arrow in the back,
A deep **** along the torso,
They overcame every attack and tact,
My tried true tunic red and tore and Lo!

And behold, defeat of invincibility,
Pierced by impervious persons of pouncing pinpoint power,
A score of potent soldiers perished in peril,
A leader forced to cower,

As I sit, my breath won’t catch,
I know, they must **** me, it’s the only way,
Broad, rabid dogs play fetch,
Bark! Bark! It’s fine... just let me live long enough to see the day,

I’ve exhausted my mere mortal might,
Sun threatens to break the black skyline,
Dawn! I long for your divine lights song,
Yellow, red, orange and blue pierce the starlit sky and draws a yawn,

The air gets crisp, the mornings fate,
Dew forms on my broken breastplate,
The brisk night, ordaining dawn,
A starry umbra moves a long,

Odd that I feel no fear or hate,
Coming to terms with my current state,
Black frames preclude my sight,
Bleeding out my mere mortal might,

Light hits like a flash of flame,
Warming fingers and blood flecked face,
Finally caught my breath, oh hark!
Bark! Bark! Bark! Drawing closer with axe and mace,

Yet the hunting voices fade,
What a rush, quite the chase,
Comfortable in the position I have laid,
Blood on pain, I laugh fore they will find me slain,

On this tree I lean, down and slayed,
Sword on chest a humble pawn,
The sky clear blue mixed jade,
Feeling peace, bestowed by dawn,

One by one my mere mortal might, severs ties,
Drifting off to sleep, Lo!
My final sunrise,

The foreign soldier bled by dawn,
His sword, rested on his chest,
A face of peace yet the sword lay drawn,
We buried him under that oak tall and strong,

His respect has been earned,
Paid full in blood,
His gods bury their dead,
Commanding bodies be unburned,

Under that oak he lay unplundered,
Tall and strong, was the oldest oak,
“Coincidence he picked this ancient tree?” I wondered,
We sent him on his way, sword unsundered,

So Ode to you Soldier dead at dawn,
On your death we lay no claim,
May your gods catch your soul,
In your peaceful heavenly plane,
Josiah Wilson Jun 2014
A harsh wind howls over the mountains
But I stand tall, alone and unbowed
With my wild hair and pelts
I am the barbarian, fierce and proud

No weapon can fell me, no man can best me
For I vanquish all with my axe and my shield
Flee now before my might and wrath
To my power surrender, to my fury yield

Like the wild north wind I come
Laying low all in sight
So cower in fear, you soft ones
And flee fast into the night

— The End —