When guilt burst forth, at Menden's door
We could not speak, we did not know
The toll the rage of men might seek
Through witless priests and burning snow

That Sword was forged in Elwen's fyre
With magic signs embossed in vain
The power of steam in crooked lines
To cleave the brows in villainous twain

Thus Emnoch came to shield the world
A hero's hero of countless girth
The ***** of shame that numbered zero
A blade arrived to state his worth

This dismal feast of brutal love
Will never sate a horse's tune
Senescence and honor entwined in fate
He ever swells that liquid boon

Asunder sliced was Denzhen Yeep
Just as Vile Ben wast slain
The Witches Five broke on the Pile
A magic Pentagon of pain

But do not braise the glance of morn'
We cannot love what has not hair
Embrace the stench of Emnoch's glove
His tale is there for you to share

From the ashes and dust
We rise again
Bearing the scars of death
As we count our lost
From the bones and graves around
Many have fallen
And the sword is red

We march through the village square
Bearing more corpses
Looking for a place to rest
From the raging sword of the invaders
We seek the face of the gods

Why do we dance on their graves?
Like masquerades in the village square
The kings come from afar
And we take them to the shrine
The invaders helped us built
And none shed a tear…
None raised a wail…
And none grieved
Because it’s not their lost

They said we wail too much
For the lost was small
A tiny drop in the ocean of blood
That has flooded the land

Our contribution was small…yes, small contribution
Or how else could we justify this ceaseless carnage?
So they took more
More women…more children
More boys…more girls
Some pregnant…some suckling
A sacrifice to make up for the rest

We thought our shrine was big enough
To pacify the gods and save their wrath
But we were wrong
Their white regalia is not red enough
The blood is not deep enough for a swim
But why desire blood as one seeks for water in the desert
Oh sword! When will you rest?

The king is coming
Maybe he will see the mountains of graves
And the waiting dead—candidates for mass burial
Maybe he will say it is enough
And the priest can take the blood
And pour on the altar of the gods
So the living can rest
And the land will know peace
And the sword be no more red
May the gods be pacified
This sacrifice is enough

Racing across
The well worn path
Of old earth and stone
Down the road
Over the hilltop
Not a moment
To brace for impact
Only the collision
Cast back
To the earth that flowed beneath
Now coated with a thin layer
Mind as scattered and disturbed
As the earth and grass below

Gaze across
To what lies just paces ahead
To yet another
Disoriented fellow
Pages strewn about
As is an apologetic voice
Hands fluttering about
Like freed doves

Risen and collected,
Words shared and spoken
Together they then go
Towards the setting sun
With mighty sword
Ink and pen
Away to battle they shall go

With sword strong and gleaming bright
Surely to survive the fight
Sharper than thorns
To pierce the veil
Their enemies to wail
The soldier shall prevail

With ink as black as darkest night
Words well weaved, bold with might
Surging with power of great war horns
To give strength without fail
Their foes sure to flail
The poet shall prevail

On goes the soldier
Powerful in skill
Master of the sword
And precision in the ****

On goes the poet
Sharpest in will
Master of the word
And always ink to spill

Away they go,
Walking to and fro
They shall lead their lives on well
Never to hide inside a shell
The soldier and the poet

- Jay M
January 12th, 2021

remembered to the birth of time
held to nothing but the play of life

remembered to the warm of day cradled to the skin
no talk of living only laughter and joy
on the lip of adventure and discovery

remembered to the excitement of friendship
created to the star and hero on the sword of imagination
neath the flight of a dream

remembered to the glow of nurture
breathed to the skip and run of little feet on earths foothold
as the close of a hug to the beat of love
holds charge on the heat of a body not being
to that there you could be found by the hide of seek

remembered to the belt of a star to eve
as you make the first move on the kiss of sunlight
and touch soul to the flesh of sleeps fade
into the light of nights close

remembered to the rush of blood desire
thru the pound of a vein slipping its teeth
across the make of your naked pure

remembered to the sip of a body
thru the arc of a rainbows melt
as the ray of charge bursts open on the blister of sun
and drips to the earth of ground through the light of dust

remembered to the burn of life
held tight to the hunt of scent
gifting a rise on the black of slow heat
as the pelt of wolves prime escapes
to the prey on a red white snow

remembered to the last of kings and queens
answered to the truth of gravity
swept over the infinite mind on the lift of light
to the hand that one be hold

Apriori and Self Evident, A Gift
Upon which Reason is founded, A Sword
     Separating Truth from Lies,
     Discerning Reason in the Unreasonable,
     Seeing the Unseen, and
     Affirming Belief in the Unbelievable.

Words can strike like swords,
leaving wounds that time can't heal;
They scar the heart and soul,
more so than iron or steel.