Some people call them pests.
I, however, call them roaches.
They make way too much noise.
They rarely show themselves.
And when they do,  they bring their kids.
I mean I respect life and all that stuff.
But sometimes,
In the quiet of the evening.
The moon playing tag with the clouds.
The wind whisking by at gentle speeds……
I accidentally step on one on purpose.

That’s not going to go over well from what I’ve heard.

Let’s all react.
That’s what the old trend is.
And now.
The information superhighway.
Is spreading the news.
"Happy Happy Joy Joy,# said Ren

If it was good enough for “them”,
It’s good enough for me.

The raiding has begun again.
This land is no longer fertile.
Its tainted and dry.
Too painful to stay in this place.

We raid with no compass.
No direction. Only the wind.
Let it fill my spirit with stallions.
Let it fill my anger with wolves.

Wherever we go, we know not where!
Wherever I go. I will shield myself.
However, should the wind drag me back.
Should you find me again.

Do not fool me once more.
I forgive, but forgiveness hands on a loose thread.
I do not forget; memories are feelings.
And I cannot forget how you made me feel.

It was better then any wine.
But cut deeper then any sword.
You wrote about me.
Now you have erased me.

The raider was raided.
The thief was robbed.
The archer was shot.
The trickster was tricked.

“Sir. They Hit the Wrong Town”
Ruth was concerned. Spitfire recon photos were the problem. Not the quality but something else. The target, it was wrong. Its street plan was different. Buildings, or what were once buildings, were different. What was wrong? Ruth thought. Do what thy will be the whole of the law. Do it right or it’s a **** up! What have our boys done?

She called her superior officer over. Quietly Ruth raised her concern and he looked closely through the stereoscopic eye glass at the post bombing pic.

“Strewth! You’re right. A right **** up. They hit the wrong ****** town. It’s not Munich. This is bad.

Ruth glanced up with wide intelligent questioning eyes. She looked very pretty in her WAAF uniform, with hair tied back and young features.

“As you sow, so shall you reap,” muttered her officer. Did it matter where the enemy was hit? As long as we bombed them. Our revenge for Coventry, London and a score more. Our Lancasters were pulverizing Germany. Bomber Harris had unleashed his whirlwind, silencing the Luftwaffe’s wind with extreme violence.

An urgent investigation needed to be carried out. It was the wrong target. A new raid would be needed...

We come as warriors, we come as raiders, and as slavers. We take what we want, we are Vikings. We raid and we pillage, for our gods, and for our sons. Feel our wrath in battle for we have no fear. For when we fall we join our brothers in Odin's hall.

An abundance of hope in her heart
Light dancing in her eyes
Who could imagine such a horrible thing could start
To take that all away

She use to do these little dances
On her way to the kitchen
Now she barely takes these little chances
For shes afraid what she has now will be swept away

Oh
Oh
Oh
How could this be?

Oh
Oh
Oh
How can no one see?

They took it away
In a midnight raid
Now she has to pay
For the damage made

How could they
Take it all
And have nothing to say
But goodbye

Where did it go?
I can't find it
If only someone could show
Me

Now she drags her feet
To the kitchen

Now her eyes
Are dark

Now her heart
Is missing a piece

And all she hopes for now
Is to go back to the way she was