Antihero


An old stone built tower stands above all on the skyline;
The curves of its body twisting spiral’s in the air.
The moon shines around its peak, which reaches up so very high.
It is surrounded by a castle keep,
That is an image of a burnt out nightmare.


The castle walls are in pieces, like its people,
Cannon fodder their game.
The drawbridge has fallen, but the iron gate still remains.
The shadows in the night speak of a desire to be the enemy within.
The voices of the fallen spit out their final endless scream’s.


The sound of war is upon the castle door.
No more escape for its inhabitants,
Apart from those who are fleeing through the century old tunnel.
The secret passage to a way away from all the savage.
The army continues to do battle, at the top of ladders and ramparts.
All have been affected by this battle’s damage.


The sorcerer of this cursed land,
Stands in the furthest, most high room,
Shooting lightning at the wall tops as the chaos reigns below,
Where all is doom
And in a final decisive action,
The sorcerer reads from his ******* book;
The ground shakes, the fire falls and all enemy are shook
And thrown from their steeds in front of the castle gate.
In pieces they bleed and from the tops of the castle walls,
Those who are falling will never be saved.
They crash to the floor and become no more.
The sorcerer falls to his knees, exhausted of power,
But he has put an end to this midnight war.


No protection was given by the enemies armour.
Their swords and shields crashed loudly as they hit the ground.
The enemy is no longer the invading warrior;
They are all running in fear and their last sounds are all dying out.


As the sorcerer takes the final step down from his twisted tower,
He pushes open the thick oak wooden door.
As he walks out into the open air courtyard his face is a glower;
No living enemy can be seen, because the enemy are no more.


His men are all cheering and shouting his name,
But the sorcerer is not laughing with them, for he has a plan.
He tells them this morrow they will all fight again,
So they must all prepare to once more stand.


Some voices of discontent whisper within the ranks;
Some of them openly criticize his view.
As he creates a ball of flame that hovers above the palm of his hand,
They all realize he has been their antihero
And he could be their demise too…if he chooses to.


(C)2017 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.

Unknown enemy


In an alien world with three moons in the sky,
A luminous thing flies high in the air.
It looks like a pterodactyl,
But it has three heads and breathes fire.
My fellow soldiers and I are searching for resources,
Among the dead bodies, inside a spaceship called ‘The Debonair’.


It’s been here for over a hundred years;
But no man has been to this planet since.
It was just a coincidence that we heard its distress signal,
As we passed by, heading for Alpha Six.
Our home world we haven’t seen now,
For seven months and sixteen days.
But now we have a new mission:
Salvage what we can and bury the bodies in graves.


Sergeant Angelos is reading an elegy, to commemorate the dead;
While the scouts we sent out earlier, haven’t reported back yet.
The scouts are on gravity bikes looking for anything we can use,
But so far they have found nothing but volcanoes and rivers of sulfur…
But something has found them.


They didn’t know they were being followed as they returned to base.
There is a loud other-worldly scream in the distance
And we are all put on high alert.
“What the Hell was that Captain?”  “I don’t know Pike;
Hit the dirt!”


A huge ball of blue light is flying straight towards the medi-bay;
Soldiers run this way and that and thankfully we are all safe.
But the medi-bay is destroyed by an alien weapon.
“Fire at will!”  Shouts the Captain,
As strafes of bullet fire fly off into the distance,
In search of the alien.


“Where did it go?  Anybody see it?”
There is silence; then a shout.
“It’s there!  Two o’clock, beyond the red rocks!”
We all open fire and create a dust cloud.


As the dust disappears the Captain says:
“Did we get it?  Is it dead, or not?”
Before anyone can answer, there is another scream
And this time it comes from behind us.


“Oh my God!  This thing's got friends!
Round up the caravan’s lads, we’re hunkering down for the night.”
As the sky gets darker, more aliens surround us
And our bullets fire, lighting up the sky.


Blue luminous fire rains down upon us and our barricade.
Our ground to air ship, takes a Hell of a beating,
But it’s been through worse than this in its days.


By morning light, the shooting has ended.
We all walk out our ground to air ship and see what we can find.
There are dead aliens all around us, seventy five in total.
The cheers and joy of our victory,
Has been sullied by the number of our side who have died.
Fourteen gone from us; taken by an unknown enemy.
This is our job, our life, our fight and our destiny.


As we leave the planet behind, the memories stay with us.
We have conquered one enemy;
Now we are heading home to our family and friends.
The people we do this for and the people that we love.


(C)2016 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.

Casualties of war


Godlike?  No.  Human?  Maybe.
Yet living above the bones of dead babies,
Who fell to their deaths from the top of the world;
The forgotten, the miscarried, the unfortunate boys and girls.


Now the babies lie with bullets;
Sanctity no longer exists.
Once upon a time, we were all for it,
Now we just wish this war would cease.


Fire!  Called the Sergeant as the Germans advanced.
Onward called the General, as the men became entrenched,
In the trenches and fell to their knees;
Some prayed to the lord above, others fell down silently.


Many days and many nights had come to pass
And still Old Blighty was under attack.
Churchill’s calls, spurred on a nation;
Whilst mothers and babies were simply seeking salvation.


The babies cried, as the explosions filled the skies;
The poor boys tardiness meant he had to find somewhere to hide,
And pray he wasn’t killed by the bombs or the bullets.
Just hoping not to die in a watery grave.


For all that’s left in the bottom of your rivers,
Is babies bones and war souvenirs


(C)2013 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.