Fight with words
even the swords
agree

Everyone here seems to know each other
not like a son knows his mother
but they know each other

and I'm sat looking over
hundreds of people
yet alone I feel

in an unknown city
with people wearing white
people dressed to fight

they fight with swords
but not with shields
in straight lines
is where they choose to shine

In admittance,
In ecstasy,
In guilt and in anxiety,
In the gutters of Yuexiu,
The plains of Tamaulipas,
My precious mountain top
Near Calgary,
Or this flat, honeycombed and
High above Kyoto neon,
I’ve finally lost;

I surrender.

I surrender to –

Wave a white flag in comfort,
In defeat, and a first, when I warm,
Come this newer blanket,
Whilst we dance,
Come a first smile, decades, and
Finally to fathom,
“Embrace,” eternity, this
Hold opposed pierced when –
Swords eventually rust,
But fields forever bloom.

With fire and hammer
Anvil and steel
In my craft I do not stammer
With weapons I do not feel.

With my blade I feel protected
Protected from the cruelty of life
I don't know what you suspected
I didn't intend to cause strife

Forged by Hephaestus himself, tempered in Satan's heart.

It moves too fast for the normal eye to see,

But leaves traces of moon glinted footsteps in the fissure of heaven's breath.

In the harmonic tune of clashing instruments, an orchestrated chaos is present.

The chord from the bowstring beats time on wooden shields.

To this, their blade waltz continues.

Their cadence unmatched by surrounding performers,

The maestros continue their viperous style.

Just as a painter cannot take away a stroke of the brush,

A swordsman cannot take away a stroke of the blade.

It all came to halt...

The battle cries;
The swinging swords;
Cleaving halberds;
Even death's opening doors.

It all came to a complete stop.

Enemies from both sides, frozen in time.
All looking towards him.
The man shining brightest with hate and honor.
No, not the hero.
Instead the mighty warrior,
With an ode to a king to claim the sacred lands.

Arrows arching, painting the sky black.
Red rivers running, beneath the bodies of the fallen.
Burning; burning; burning smoke, filling the air.
The smell of death hanging near.

He changed that day.
The day he turned on his rage.

Legend insists to say.
He was the reason they won the war that day.

Prophecies of the Ancient’s decree,
Dark Pariah shall face the dragon,
In the Universal arena, heart’s quail,
Worlds tremble as giant forces clash.

Cloying Darkness is stirring, awakening,
Shadows shifting within Darker shadows,
Snake-like tendrils slithering, pulsing,
A menace daring to reveal true purpose.

Brandishers of Light must stand and fight,
Resisting all temptation of offered power,
Battling against foul corruption: death,
Halting the slide into dank, filthy, pits.

Monsters stalking the innocent; feeding,
Drenched in blood of pain and suffering,
Spawn of Dreadnoughts bring carnage,
Will any stand against the slaughter?

The fabled sword twisted in torment,
Calling, calling; seeking a champion,
Searching out those who would dare,
Questing for the brave of the Light.

Light heeds the need, offers strength,
Dragon heart’s beat, Champions arise,
Drums of war, thunderous, deafening,
As the Clysm screams to be birthed.

©Paul M Chafer 2014

I'm writing a song today,
While I try to keep my thoughts at bay.
A tune that will keep your face,
Stamped in my heart with some lace.
A verse that'll be filled with your favorite words,
I'll try to match that with perfect chords.
A bridge that'll be saturated with our memories,
And all the emotion that your heart carries.
A chorus that'll rhyme with all  the days you make me smile,
Even when sadness seems to pile.
I'll then put the song into a disk,
And maybe take a huge risk?
For the song will be ours,
And we'll listen to it for hours.
As dawn turns to dusk,
As the environment smells like musk.

The song will diffuse into our veins,
As we fly towards the clouds to meet the saints.
For there is serenity in these words,
*For they are mightier than the swords.