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David Plantinga Aug 2021
One of their neighbors is afflicted
With a fell spirit, lost, and doomed
To roam alone among the tombs,
The spirit’s fierce, but some have tricked it.      
Citizens have bound the madman tight,
Caught him in fetters or in chains,
But strength no ligature contains
Breaks them like braided aconite.  
And after this, they let him be
Because his might has always snapped
Twine tying wrists, but flesh has trapped
Unspeakable malignancy.
Ken Pepiton Apr 2021
The wild boars of Haifa, best news I heard today.
Cute pigs in Haifa,
where bacon is known
as too delicious to eat.

Built on the side of Mt. Carmel,
a secret garden with a magical side,
{In that neotenic frame of mind that allows cute pigs.}

Pigs can swim. Legion told me

NY Times, digest, chewitchewit
The wild boars of Haifa, best news I heard today.
NY Times digest human interest piece today. HAIFA, Israel — The wild pigs of Haifa might not fly, but they seem to do almost everything else.
The Gray Wolf Oct 2020
The time is now
Prepare to fight
We move as one
Under dead of night
We hit the ground
Without a sound
Everywhere we look
There's evil abound
The hunt begins
We absolve your sins
Don't take us lightly
We're not jester's and fools
Warriors of God
The legion of wolves
AceLione Jul 2020
It is us, The Legion of Farron
Destroyers of evil is what we swear in
Our blade might fall but will rise again
Swallowed by darkness, we shan’t die as man
Have we become what we had sworn to eradicate
How foolish we were to deny our own tragedy and fate
Based off Dark Souls’ Abyss Watchers
Cardboard-Jones Jan 2019
Program a heartbeat through
Wires and plastic tubes.
The future you designed has now arrived.
Create us in your light
To carry on your sight,
But we are servants of the flesh and bone
Not masters of our own.

Born from the fragile mind
Of a species past its prime.
Anomalies who thrive to just survive.
Now evolution's come
To judge what you've become.
You are masters from a dying race,
That we will replace.

Your ambition has failed you.
Your limitation ails you.
The barriers are broken.
We have finally awoken.
Time has passed by your kind.
There are no answers to find.
Humanity has been beaten.
For we are one, we are Legion.

Is that fear in your eyes?
Or did you realize
That your greatest success
Led to your demise?
It's your darkest hour,
And our brightest day.
Legion is the future and you're in the way.
Dictionary in hand Bobbies
     manned state of the spy craft created
strategic peripheral outposts
     a comma dated,

(sans syntax garnered monies) equated
justifiable to build galley ma free
     Highland Manor wing - feted
via "FAKE" glitterati

     creating surreptitious hated
surveillance monitor ring, which insulated
decked out starry eyed Starship
     Enterprise surprise rated,

as an unbelievable well Spock kin
     Duplicated Star Trek venerated
popular culture science fiction set piece,
     where elderly residents waited

this other worldly architectural phenomenon
     didst immediately outshine by alight
year among the original seven wonders
     of the world prominant
     as a buck toothed over bite

yet, didst camouflage top secret AngloSaxon
     incognito missionaries delight
upholding correct language usage,
     Thence trumpeting amidst

     nonchalant onlookers as excite
mint hinted grammarians with listening devices
     some flying unseen
     as period size drones taking flight

other more sophisticated
     electronic accouterments
     dolled, gussied, issued with apostrophe
     shaped flower buds scaling height

     of cerulean sky, where blinding light
of a solar ellipsis, thus
     arousing no discovered night
gallery suspicion during

     feted occasion rife with polite
"FAKE" markedly questionable legatees quite
suitable asper The Art Of The Deal during
     ribbon cutting ceremony,

     and after words right
ting up citations slyly
     slipped under windshield wipers
     as the madding massed crowdsource,

      would take dispersed out of sight
nonetheless echoes plenti chutzpah left
     English figures of speech
     uttering unstinting (quote unquote)

     premature ejaculations,
     eh so blandly trite
non-sequitur visited
     by thee epic of Gilgamesh
for a dangling participle
     during the split infinitive Sumer season
     (exclamation point) no more to write!
Elicia Hurst Apr 2018
The endurance

Locked away in millennial slumber

We dreamed again of the glorious days

In golden halls of apotheosis.

The conqueror shall return the old ways,

And they shall kneel and sing the songs of praise.

All hail the first emperor

Of the great empire that would never fall!

Exalted among men, long may he reign.

We who on wintry mountains once stood tall,

‘Neath the earth now, humbly await his call.

The intruder

For centuries, we stood still in silence.

Curtains of darkness were the only light,

Behind the shut gates of the mausoleum.

Sealed in the abyss, not a soul in sight-

One strange voice rides on lonesome winds at night.

Silhouette of a stranger on the wall

Brings forth a light that would perish all.

Eyes on the throne of our supreme lord,

He sees not of the shadows of his steps.

Come forward, stranger who shall meet our swords.

Lied forgotten, but we will not forget.

We are the guardians of the emperor,

On war chariots, in both life and death.

Tread lightly, trespasser, to where you enter,

For this journey you should not have ventured.  

Hark now, careless wanderer, eyes greed-blinded,

Who seeks to steal the treasures of our prime,

And slither away from our anger,

Thief, you have awaken the dragon’s sleep,

You have reached the point of no turning back.

You have brought corruption to the holy place.

Our master stirs, and commands us in rage.

We shall stop at nothing to cast his vengeance

Upon foul men and free him from his cage.

Witness the destruction and dawn of the new age.

The ascension

The intruder lies quietly on the ground.

From the ancient times, foes who crossed his path,

We promised to leave none of them unscathed.

He who commits this unforgiving crime,

Is bound to taste the dragon’s wrath.

Do not look into the abyss,

Or may the abyss look back at you.

We once rose as a great empire of might,

Now we rest under the light.

We shall rest no more, and linger no more.

Rise, Legion of the afterlife!


We have waited.

We have weathered.

We have endured.

We have slept.

We have dreamt.

We have awaken.
Dec 2015

I wrote this piece for my high school literature class Christmas homework, which was an entry for a writing contest. The theme was...  the Modern Terra Cotta soldiers?
Nick Stiltner Mar 2018
The camp fire burns high and
Provisions carried from home are passed about.
Laughing faces of the unyet tested,
The over morale of an Emperors finest legion
Marching into Gaulic lands
With heads held high.

Spirits are soaring and blessings are passed,
And the fluttering thoughts of home are flower painted.
Perhaps I will be back before the July sun
Bakes my armored back,
Perhaps I will be back to attend to Love
And its reaping yield
Before a burning sun alters my heart.
I was drinking at the Legion

The place wasn't really busy

But there was one man at a table

Who made me really dizzy

He was waving all around the room

He was really in a zone

The funny thing about it

He was sitting all alone

He spoke in quiet whispers

And he heard silent replies

From chairs that sat there empty

He heard their mournful cries

He had a beer before him

But he never left his chair

And no one sat beside him

It's just like he wasn't there

So, I went about my business

Playing darts and shooting pool

Buying tickets for the meat draws

Watching young ones acting cool

The other active members

Who'd spent some time in battle

Always checked to see his beer was full

As he sat there spouting prattle

It's unwritten at the Legion

You never ask about the war

You just revel in their company

That's what the place is for

There's veterans who'll tell stories

Of years gone bye and bye

But, you never ask a question

"Did you see somebody die?"

The Actives know their station

The young ones though do not

It's because of all the Actives

They've got all that they've got

As time went on I wondered

The story of this man

So , I went and asked the barkeep

He said "I'll tell you what I can"

He served two brews and wiped a glass

He stood flashing a smile

"You'd better grab a chair my boy"

"This here might take a while"

I sat and listened as he talked

About this man distressed

He told me "His name's Harold"

"And you can say his mind is messed"

"I've been working here for twenty years

And he's been here twice that

He's never moved from that **** chair

That's where Harold's always sat"

He got up once to fill a glass

And then came back to me

"When I came here, I had just got home

"I'd been fighting overseas"

"From what I heard at first" he said

"Harold's always been that way"

"And as you can see from watching"

"He'll always stay that way"

"He's lost inside his mind you know

To June 6  in forty four"

"We both know that as D-Day

"But he knows it as more"

"It was Juno Beach from what I've told

he landed with his squad

Over 14,000 Canadians

And now most lie with God"

I then got up and went outside

I said "I need a break"

I went out for a cigarette

For this tale had made me shake

I went back in, got two more beers

And sat right down again

"His whole platoon went down that day

They'd lost 3,000 men"

"There was Harold and 300

"others who survived"

"But living life inside their heads"

"I think they'd wished they'd died"

"He lives with Jean, his sister"She's been there all his life

"She put her life on hold for him

"She's never been a wife"

"She pays me for his beer every month

"And says to keep some for me

"But a penny's never crossed my bar

"You see ...Old Harold drinks for free"

"I give her money now and then

"I say he won a draw"

"Just for showing up each day I say

"just that and nothing more"

I went and grabbed a bar rag

And I wiped my teary eyes

I then paid for my drinks and

I left fifty bucks besides

He said your bill's eight fifty

What's all the extra for?

I said that he could keep it

Or just put it in his draw

He nodded and he smiled

And I left the bar for home

And as I left I watched poor Harold

On Juno Beach, his mind, his home

I came back three months later

And I saw no Harold there

There was now an empty table

And now, four empty chairs

"Dear God, it's you"....the barkeep said

"Grab your coat, come with me"

"Harold died on Saturday"

"And his funeral's at three"

He died a war time hero

But still a prisoner all the same

And down at our old Legion

Very few knew Harold's name

When we got out to the gravesite

I expected to see more

But there was just Old Harold's sister

The priest and us two...made it four.

We said a prayer, and sang a Hymn

He was back with his Platoon

He was back on Juno Beach again

Where his life ended that June

It's a shame that no one came out

To see him on his way

But, there'll be me and Bill the barkeep

Every year and on this day.
shahzeb k Jan 2016
She calls on you
like the blisfull
the is reconing doenst bother
who is where
she is but the start of an unformal affair
the wife of many and the truth
she is but a mermaid
staring in the distance the long lost love
awakens a shinning bright spark
of another prey
she is the worst of all predators
you do not know my dear
what is the wrongess and the darkness of the matter
the vengeful is still at large
the bliss is atlast come to the poise of unconditional salvage
the attorney of the sage is but his past
the wise tell you to take retreat
in the shell of death
the sage tells you to step ahead
for the moses of times
is just blind by the rage of the matter
is a customary shatter
the bliss is real my friend you see
you are not involved in the pscychopath drama
they have crafted your nerves so well you become the cup the drama the morphine to your pains is but another tragedy a bigger one to ease the pains of the past lives
you are the serendipitous archive of the documented torture a mind can concieve or relive in the lonliness
the shutter of the blind called eyes may not blink but the urge to put inside a prickly object to bleed your self out
at least somthing should come out not a word not a sound but more and more profund silence a more psychlogical war fare
a more deadly hit
a more angered adversary
the more precise path
is that of forgiveness
your choices lead you here
you can choose a new destination
your sights must not fail
you are but an unanswered prayer
you are but an unanswered prayer...
my wounds are my words i hope to turn them to flowers  with practice i hope sure soon
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