"crusaders" poems
somehow all neighborhood tribes & tribe lords love you.
somehow you beat my score on the nickelcade spaced invaders.
we leap fences
in escape of party befouled
cops. crusaders
of mustache & veiny hate.
you rip your jeans
& lose your artifacts in the creek. into
convenience store warm lights
& makeout mixtapes.
Aug 20, 2014
Aug 20, 2014 at 3:31 PM UTC
Here be dragons all old maps say
Here be dragons: beware, go'way
Noble knights and brave crusaders:
All steer clear and take detour
But whose to say these fearsome beasts
These terrible monsters of lore,
Who declared that these gentle giants
Live only to create gore
They may be misspoken for
And probably misunderstood
They could be timid gentile folk
Who dine on aether and fish
But nevermind the possibilities
Here be dragons: go'way, beware
Nov 22, 2012
Nov 22, 2012 at 5:22 PM UTC
I demand to make my choices.
We are here to raise our voices.
These irreversible changes are locking us in cages;
These are real, life-or-death issues.
This is no show, and these lives are no Broadway stages.
Let's talk about decisions;
Let's put aside biased visions.
Let’s talk about who makes these decisions;
I’m looking at you, old white dudes in boardrooms.
Last time you took a class in sex-ed,
Gatsby and Daisy were just about this close to being bride and groom.
Let's talk about consent;
Let's use this space to vent.
Let’s talk about who has the right to judge;
I’m looking at you, anti-abortion crusaders.
Feeling threatened by strong women and their placards and posters,
Like they’ve got pistols in their uterine holsters,
Like they’re all daughters of the dark forces of Darth Vader.
Why do we insist on going to war with each other?
More importantly,
Why does our ****** education,
The root of this problem,
The rotten core of this issue -
Why does our ****** education **** so much?
Why do we talk about choice for a woman instead of the choice of men to respect a woman in the first place?
Why are we still debating?
Grown men telling women to listen,
It's absolutely infuriating!
Let's fight for rights and quit the hating.
Women are resorting to desperate measures,
Whilst men walk away with fulfilled pleasures.
I adopt this tone gravely;
Women are jeopardising their safety, daily.
Is a living woman worth less than an unborn baby?
May 25, 2019
May 25, 2019 at 5:18 AM UTC
Sweet lips encrusted in sugar from the hot doughnuts at the steam fair.
Baked in the dusty sunshine of an August afternoon in North London.
I would roam these streets from childhood into adulthood,
Drinking £2,50 wine at bus stops only to get thrown out of the pub for illusionary bathroom shots
Our real crime? Being too young.
Since then, i have drunk Spanish manzanilla in an old tobacco store room
Transformed into a house where wafts of old book smell mingling with the scent of baked terra cotta and lemon trees sweeps down dark corridors revealing hidden gems of traveled souls.
Where there are streets that belong to Phoenician women , Arab traders , Christian crusaders and now the Spanish folk
All these names we go by , yet still human we stand
Up on roof tops, smoking sneaky roll ups to the elegance of storks
Building nests on church domes and castle walls
Monuments to remind the future
Graffiti on the natural landscape , the ruins read " we waz ere"
From shores of the Atlantic to shores of the Atlantic
Brooklyn rises
The night bus to eat pizza alarmed me
How were the buses so different ?
London's told you where you were
New York's Made you suss it out for yourself
In the company of a Father i hardly knew and the Mother of my new sibling
Child ,
Who will you become ?
Shaped by the contrast of your parents skin , your curled hair yet to emerge from fresh formed follicles
Rest easy ,
This world Ain't so harsh
I found God at the bottom of a bowl of noodles
Simply sitting there , lazing about as i licked my lips of the residual chillies and sugar
I deal in the order of paradoxes
Born by the sea only to grow up in the 'so called' luxury of the cities jungle
Although, resting now in the moon soaked mountain air ,
no city can compare, to the fragrance of flowers that bloom and scent only for those who brave the night
I used to be afraid of the dark ,
Now i make love with it.
Jul 16, 2013
Jul 16, 2013 at 3:26 PM UTC
Stretch me out and count me like clouds
Say she is vapour
Venom, velvet and vermouth
With hair of hazelnut rapture
Clutch the moments, clutch the moonbeams
Clutch the stretched out skies of cloud and mustard gas sunset
Sing she is a child of trauma
Supressed in the name of breathing
Violence in the name of skin
And she is venom, velvet and vermouth
She was born to pink salt lakes in the low country
With ruby pomegranate eyes
And hair of hazelnut rapture
Girl with the soul of a thousand pilgrim journeys
Girl with the soul of a blackberry bush
Girl with the soul of olive trees and sheep meat and oven bread in the fire country
Human smiles
And other dark things of value
She lies like velvet
She lies in the name of supressing traumas
In the name of breathing
She bleeds like a billion stars bleed vapour
She is venom and vermouth
With hair of hazelnut rapture
She is the sum of a thousand pilgrim journeys
The prayer of holy rivers in the canyon country
The smoke of incense burned by sages
The scars of bodies burned by crusaders in mustard gas chambers
Goddess of Nuclear energies
Red-eyed like ruby pomegranates
Like the dewy cauldron of morning
When tenuous steps lead bodies down the path of executionary revolution
To boarders, frontiers, walls of white-skin scar tissue
Sing songs of Babylon in the free country
Clutch the moments
Clutch your breaths and hold them in broken palms
Clutch the tides and teach them
Breach your rib-cage, unstitch and return the borrowed bones
Melt the metaphoric thrones
Breathe backwards in the name of unsupressing traumas
In the name of truth
Stretch me out and count me like clouds
Girl of angel-breath ambition
Soul of blackberry bush and smile of splintered terracotta tile
Sing your songs
Say she is vapour
Jan 26, 2017
Jan 26, 2017 at 1:32 PM UTC
Our Father
Woe! to these demonic determined downtrodden deceivers,
Woe! Oh Thine merciless mendicants of misery and maleficent mendacity
Woe! Oh common corrupt conniving cunning calumnious crusaders of crucifixion...
scurrilous screeds scribbling sorrows
The Lord will sharpen thou pencils...
Thou pocket protectors whilst melt into thine *******
Thou spectacles opaque and permanently smudged...with other assorted
myriad miseries
Thou mittens will be smitten with interminable degeneracy...
Oh languid leaders of licentious lubricious larceny..
Oh craving calculating copious concupiscent calumnious falsifiers...
Oh maudlin mocking manipulators, multitudinous marauding machinations
**Thy God is an angry God
a vengeful God
a jealous God**
Oh **** pots and gall! Oh sordid ****** insalubrious denizens of depraved degeneracy
Take heed thou names mightn't appear in the almighty book of life when judgement deigns an
opprobrious order of objurgation
terrible tragic tempestous tribulations of treachery
Oh Woe! Alas!
They are fallacious febrile fabricators, fallen , fragmented flawed fugacious furtive falsifiers!!
scalawags and rapscallions..rascals of ribaldry..forlorn fallen away backslidden recalcitrants…
Oh misguided miserable miscreants, maladies and agitation be thy lot!
This rant has been brought to you by:
The Most High and Holy Priest of the Ignoble Church of Alliteration & Utter Skepticisim
Aug 8, 2013
Aug 8, 2013 at 5:54 PM UTC
every time i travel to Warsaw i fall in love,
i stand on the central Warsaw train-station,
and there's this girl checking her
mobile interet, phone,
and she looks pretty...
and... i really don't want to **** her like
the guys **** her in ***** movies...
maybe that''s shy i'm considered
"effeminate"....
maybe...
i just didn't **** enough women...
or maybe...
i speak the tongue of the crusaders...
but we sent the artillery...
the beautiful women to the Arab
******
and kept the nation safe...
Islam, akin to the comparison
of the Bubonic Plague...
Islam... virus of the mind...
i'll contest thi...
i'll ******* die for this...
i've been feeling weird for the past
few days....
Tom Petty died....
so... why would anyone give
a **** if Wayne Static
does the coffer?
so... i'm supposed to care?!
**** you!
Jeff hanneman died...
but do you see me,
making a case for a ******* parade?!
no?
good... that's how i like it...
******* south London
plonker!
every single time...
i fall in love with a girl
at the central train-station in Warsaw...
the love dies a sudden death...
when i get to the....
Western train station of Warsaw...
the Ukrainians et al...
the Mongols...
love's up,
dead, long gone...
i'm basically living
the enterprise in re-experiencing
a slow death...
feral lands...
these Polacks are like...
please don't land in Warsaw....
i know...
Krakow has Auschwitz as a tourist
destination...
but... but...
you will not see the generic
schematic of globalization...
every time i travel to Warsaw i fall in love,
and then i think of "it"...
**** marriage..
no thanks,
you have it covered...
on your way;
i might not be on the winning side,
but sure as ****
i'm also not on the losing side either...
and t think...
that i could even concise my
life within the confines of
imitating my father...
i could have...
but then... life...
isn't exactly a chance on bet within the confines
of a roulette.
Oct 15, 2018
Oct 15, 2018 at 9:54 PM UTC
shuddering luminosity in dark forest
naked pale skin moves close in the moonlight
smells of springtime and pollen
the forest isn't gone yet
we are crusaders though we are young still
we are the dreamers and the lovers
we can change the way we think,
but the rest is up to you
lost moments and hollow memories
night vision surprise and pop culture cliche bubbles up
mud stains and sky gazing
the stars are jewels upon your naked breast
I am the hidden sunshine
we are a confluence of time and pressure
we are the ghost in the clockwork
I am lightning striking the Earth
you are the clouds enveloping me
you create the change
I ****** the change into your center
for you are also the earth,
stardust rains down upon your nakedness
and you are washed clean as a ******
yo are the sky
but i behold the hidden
the rising red horizon
the turbulence is my rising star
Oct 5, 2014
Oct 5, 2014 at 5:36 AM UTC
Now see, I am forbidden
By my totem not to eat
The meat of the dog,
For my future cannot
Even distinguish between
Water and palm-wine,
Oh, life is ill,
When I went to the bush
To fetch the medicine,
I met a fearful fellow on the way,
But no, an evil ancestral spirit
Snatched the medicine
From my hopeless soul,
Unfortunately, fellow crusaders
Were looking ghastly at my
***** rag, not loosing
Sight of my plucky suffering,
None fetches firewood
From my bush anymore,
Where the tree of the
Pawpaw has fallen,
Not even my enemies,
Hmm, I was made to swear
The divine oath of solidarity,
But fairness was not found
In the heart of my companions,
Given me the hope that,
The everlasting python
Which live in the Birim river
Did not make a mistake in
Confirming my creation,
Indeed, when myth dies
Only force is made free.
© PRINCE NANA ANIN-AGYEI
Email: [email protected]
Apr 8, 2013
Apr 8, 2013 at 6:17 AM UTC
My dear, every touch from you
Is holy absolution
Every press of the lips
Is a new wave of salvation
Time and time again
You have rescued me from damnation
In you lies the sacred and the divine
Darling, the prophets would have built shrines
With roofs touching the skies
Altars all bathed in golden light
Crusaders would have stabbed every man
With their own spines
Kings and queens and popes
Would have swallowed
The gems from their crowns and thrones
To have this love
This love is too big
To be shoved into confessionals
This love is too holy
For tightly gripped prayer beads
And acts of contrition
This love is too great
For anything less than
The highest seat in heaven
No old bearded bible entity
Can tell me how to live in my faith
No-one- not even Leviticus or Moses or whoever the ****
Can tell me that this is a sin
How can it be a sin
When I have stopped searching for God
The moment I saw you
Apr 17, 2015
Apr 17, 2015 at 4:40 AM UTC
Legislators of social stigmatization
hand out identity before child birth,
reluctantly judged by your pigmentation,
you're given a name
and a pew in a church,
assigned to a gender with implications,
while ATM balance determines your worth
Bugs will certainly inherit the Earth
Disguised as your neighborhood
privacy invaders,
cops kick in the door
at your mother's front porch,
enforcing law written by legislators
for a routine seizure and search
Police brutality couldn't mask the depravity
of their warrants nomenclature
Capitalist crusaders terrorize Americans,
but can't keep the bugs
from their Earth inheritance
Men will shroud their evil nature
Malicious intent hides below the glacier
Camouflaged vindictive behavior
is electing dictators across the equator
Truth serenaders lobby for
congressional persuaders
to pardon these murderous
capitalist crusaders,
fitting agendas with tailor made suits,
who infect Mother Earth deep in her roots
Antibiotics couldn't heal or stop this
infection these players gave her
Pray for fire and fury
to burn away worry
when bugs surely crawl from the dirt
to inherit what's left of our Mother Earth
May 8, 2020
May 8, 2020 at 6:30 AM UTC
Excitement filled the cinema waiting for it to start
with anticipation amongst the fans.
As the cape crusaders new adventure began
nobody expected what was to come.
They settled in to see the spectacular action
then came a violent interaction!
Joy turned to terror as in seconds he fired
randomly with an automatic gun!
A man gave no mercy to those in the dark
red hair dressed in black!
Not caring whose life spark was taken away
no compassion on display!
Another mass murderer there was created
at least twelve slaughtered!
Many more badly wounded caused by one
a lone young gunman.
Another massacre to analyse how it could be
evidence the authorities didn't see!
Then you realise how easy it could happen again
a possible scenario of death!
Loners who are not all psychotic beings
but clever devious individuals!
That for a cause a grudge or even sick pleasure
they have no decency or measure!
May I send my deepest sympathy to all the families
those lost should be remembered not the killer!
The Foureyed Poet.
Jul 31, 2012
Jul 31, 2012 at 8:39 PM UTC
It was Saturday,
And you said God was with us.
So, we drove as fast as possible-
Into blistering orange and purple,
Into the death of the sun.
Because we knew he was, just as well as wasn’t.
There was sweat on your chest,
And on mine two black handprints of mud.
You called me your Apache warrior.
I made fierce stabs at sol, spears tipped with glass.
I did not **** the fire, only scared him away for a cycle.
In ecstasy you asked if I’d like some-
Fearful to step past my father’s drugs I shrugged you a no.
Sold you the same line from dreams before.
I don’t like being in heaven and hell at the same time.
To which you replied with hollow eyes to hell with heaven.
And together we cried ponds in the parking lot of Wal-Mart.
Beseeching the dams not hold,
Hoping we could wash it all clean.
It was Sunday,
And you said that god was dead-
We danced in the street, maniacs,
Exposed flesh and drumming war cries.
Busted open the fire hydrant and nursed,
Hysterical for love and peaceful tomorrows,
Crusaders of regrettable intentions.
And then your mother called and you had to run off to church.
During this fifth year you were enlightened.
Many people feel that upon reading a book or two.
Labeled me wrong, you of course playing the protagonist -
I didn’t see it that way.
I wasn’t keeping any type of score.
Still bear chested, scowling at king sun,
Howling to mother moon, dressed in pale luminous silk,
Knowing she would never howl back.
With duly noted precautionary tales in mind I set forth-
To coastal plains lush with life,
Trees hiding the cityscape.
Stars sending light at a glacial pace,
Eroding corneal muck.
You had left three sheets to the wind,
And I was inside my own mind without.
Skies bled crimson heat,
Leached from me that passion that once held steadfast
And it was pleasant at best.
But, I am no martyr.
Revitalized in my own indulgences,
Slept till Saturday when you returned-
The world making right again.
Feb 6, 2013
Feb 6, 2013 at 2:09 PM UTC
Morning was sudden-made as an onwardness of hills,
Meant for donning crusade in chainmail glistenings,
The sun visored in misty slats of cold steel,
To glimmer fusty through the godded grove,
A holy sepulchre, earthly-dim to its rafters of oak,
Where the forest-fall of sunlight shed its rosework,
And a red-breasted bird, its song-flight of dappled gleam,
And in the meadow, where colorful whorled the tale of Saladin,
Wayside flowers shook beneath the destriers' cloth caparisons,
A sunny fullness of vales for the crusaders' forest-heartened lungs,
And when this furthering of sights was sunken from,
Still an onwardness of hills to Jaffa like steppingstones.
Apr 16, 2023
Apr 16, 2023 at 10:11 PM UTC
Divided by lock and key
bolt and lock
hold solid in stolid monotony
strong oak lacquer knights are guardians
standing vigil in front of dark rooms with darker secrets
Glare in glass panes and through the shattered splatter- splintering shards dance over musty old ground-mold dusty without sound because whom is here to hear the whispers flowing out from within
But resist the steel boot brutes kicking and screaming to steal in
killing hostages on your floor
treasure chests and gold chalice -might be within
no crusaders disturb what you strive to preserve peace and prosperity deemed unimportant
with outstanding austerity
don't give up your mystery
because then what are you but history adrift
Oct 23, 2013
Oct 23, 2013 at 9:57 PM UTC
I’ve written enough small poetry
to start a nuclear war.
Do you want to die in traffic
behind the wheel of your car? Or in yr rodeer camp next fall.
Control eludes us. The hero
loses urinary control, the unified nation
loses missile control, lost my timepiece, lost my metronome,
now my music is ethereal as an archangel’s.
No owl hoots or duck quacks
or squirrels ********
or spiders spanning rampikes.
The floccinaucinihilipilification of nature.
No greater tragedy than a tipping
point that tests the hero’s gullibility, complicity,
self-control, comity, sense of humor
which is the only remedy not to hate those in authority.
Them guys with guns at the Michigan state house,
fat bearded tattooed ****** off white bros.
Norsemen, Crusaders, Vikings, Britons.
For despair there is no forgiveness. Peace out.
Nuclear mischief, mad Man’s most incandescent bloom
and the devil who exists to carry the load
when we misbehave and fight among ourselves.
I wake up to my skin boiling off my bones.
Humor is the only remedy, or is ardor the best way forward.
We’ll see how things work out in the next generation.
The same diverse, spoiled, unpatriotic revolutionaries as at the nation’s
beginning
trying to reverse the future, making phone calls to get out the vote in
Georgia, hating the desert for having no water.
Events keep piling up,
the future depends on ourselves.
Conflict is inevitable and in this conflict power must be challenged by
power
so err on the side of patience, perseverance and impermanence.
Dec 7, 2021
Dec 7, 2021 at 6:15 AM UTC
Your wicked tongue awoke
Between crooked teeth
And a scarred smile
An accent at the boom
Of your voice; could shatter
Cities of marble to sand
The plague you've sent
As we prayed for an end
And you took your throne
But this is love, isn't it?
You whispered to us all
Through an open palm
This was all there is
And all that ever will be
You are the omega
You've slayed and conquered
But like caped crusaders fallen
You were mortal all along
And I realize that now
Whelmed through life's storm
You, too, never knew love
May 4, 2018
May 4, 2018 at 4:45 PM UTC
"The pity of war, the pity war distilled" - Wilfred Owen
Somewhere in the after-haze,
Jesus sought Mohammed
who was on his way to see him.
Moses met them on the ridge
and without a mike or gavel,
the meeting was convened.
They fell to their knees in sorrow
hands cupped to catch their tears -
shed for the smoldering chaos below -
so far from what was meant to be:
Sworded and chain-mailed crusaders,
suicide synagogue bombers,
machine guns stuttering in Palestine,
fire raining from the skies
bombs igniting at the speed of death,
slaughter at a Parisian concert.
Fathers of the light rise up
from your lofty provenance.
Unite your tear-drenched hands
and come dwell within us.
Breathe healing truth into the ears
of every foe of love and life.
So much more was meant to be!
Come to us now
before the setting of the sun!
November, 2015
Nov 11, 2015
Nov 11, 2015 at 10:54 AM UTC
*Somewhere, there is a poem in our heads
About, Love, life, politics, natural disasters,
Religion and conflicts controversial issues
Suddenly, here come the uprising wars in politics
Isis and The Donald Trumps of the world crusaders
Here, we are as citizens, once again, starting to feel down,
Trying to find beauty in life, throughout the fixation,
obsession with tic, TAC, toe politicians.
Somewhere, there is poem ,a poem in waiting,
waiting, waiting, waiting, and waiting,
Too many words, not enough ink for printing,
not enough folks, who cares about such matters.
Because, they saw the up and down to natural disaster,
the tricks of trade in the political world of politics
Even if we do comes across a little harmony in love,
Because, out of clutter, find simplicity, said Albert Einstein.*
P.S
*We are all equal in the fact that we are all different. We are all the same in the fact that we will never be the same. We are united by the reality that all colors and all cultures are distinct & individual. We are harmonious in the reality that we are all held to this earth by the same gravity. We don't share blood, but we share the air that keeps us alive. I will not blind myself and say that my black brother is not different from me. I will not blind myself and say that my brown sister is not different from me. But my black brother is he as much as I am me. But my brown sister is she as much as I am me.” *
― C. JoyBell C.
Jan 31, 2016
Jan 31, 2016 at 10:20 AM UTC
I miss Buffalo Bill and Jersey Lil'
Jesse James among other names
Like Hopalong and Big John Wayne
Cooper,Cagney and,
What's that Indians name?
Oh yes
Cochise.
The man of war, the man of peace.
Jimmy Dean and Johnny Ray
Otis,Sammy and Doris day all yesterday
And yet
I bet there's no one quite like them
Not like Borgnine,Heston or Glen Ford.
Rememeber West and Ward
The caped crusaders
Or Roy Thinnes and the Martian Invaders?
I miss them all
The magic of the casting call and Lucille Ball.
Where did they go?
Moved on no doubt to another show and more greasepaint
Ain't life dull Without it full
Of these great stars.
Mar 5, 2013
Mar 5, 2013 at 4:32 AM UTC
(Geraldine, Maya, and Pedra were in the kitchen to drink some Jasmine Yin Zhen tea.)
Between Bosphorus and Dardanelles, the waters are calm.
Geraldine Said, ''I love the life at sea on this tall ship.''
Maya said, '' Let me see the meaning of the lines in your palm! ''
''I worked a lot; I can't feel my hands when something I grip.''
Maya insisted, '' Let me rub your hands with Gilead' balm! ''
''I can't stand the hustle and bustle of big cities.
Can you predict my future after reading my palm?
''You'll be surrounded by death coming from the waves' ditties.''
''What is this balm? '' '' It's an extract from the bakha shrubs.''
''Where did you find this shrub? '' ''This extract is brought from Chios,
Where this tree grows near the sea, to make this balm and drugs.
It's good for the stomach and prevents the skin infections.
I used it to make bread tsoureki.'' ''It's sweet, '' Pedra said,
''This tree excited the cupidity of invaders-
The groves of Jericho.'' Maya touched her, ''Are you afraid? ''
''Went there to fight Titus, Joshua and the crusaders.''
Pedra took a long look at her, ''Do you have children? ''
''I have two boys who live in southern Ottoman Empire.
My husband died.'' ''Why did you come here? '' ''I'm a poor woman.
Now, it’s war; I want to work here, not to walk through the fire.’’
(Maya left the kitchen. On the deck, Marco, Rosa, and Cruz stopped for a few minutes their walk to admire the Marmara Sea in approach to Çanakkale.)
''Anybody who wants to pass through the Dardanelles
Must pay a tax. So, we must sit at anchor in waiting
For an opening at this small Port of Çanakkale, ''
Said Cruz. '' About buying fuel, the ****** are still debating, ''
Said Marco.'' This city is placed on two continents.''
'' The shape of the strait is akin to that of a river.''
'' Its history started with Troy. The tidal currents
Make this time of wait at anchorage a deceiver.''
''The Dardanelles is the most dangerous waterway, ''
Said Rosa, '' Maya and Naimah are talking fiercely.''
Cruz said, ''They've seemed not to know each other until today.''
''What happened, Maya? '' ''He can't stop speaking viciously.''
(To be continued...)
Poem by Marieta Maglas
Jun 21, 2015
Jun 21, 2015 at 2:52 PM UTC
I'm a human jukebox
They listen to the shape
Of my face
World in my palm
But it's a clenched fist
Dandelion heart
The crowd roars
A deafening sight
I see the spirits fly
When after all
I like them even more
When I hear
One hand clapping
Sign says for-sale
A cell without bars
Sell me down a river
Sail me down to Mars
I messed with space
Got into the chaos
Better than the rat race
But where is option C
The crowd roars
A deafening sight
I see the spirits fly
When after all
I like you even more
When I hear
One hand clapping
I'm lucid
Colorblind
Out of my mind
They're crusaders for
A green, green lie
Frail and wild
The crowd roars
A deafening sight
I see the spirits fly
When after all
I like me even more
When I hear
One hand clapping
Nov 25, 2011
Nov 25, 2011 at 8:48 PM UTC
Living in a lonely world,
Falling for everything;
got me here.
headed to nowhere.
But empty space,
Wondering if I should,
take it there. Or stay miss
placed. Mars for Pluto’s
and kudos for escapes.
Things looking up,
I’m feeling; fate.
Tomorrow never lies,
Then again; Time kills.
Brutal battle grounds;
Where Love don’t make a sound.
Heated passions simmer down.
Dudes that had my back;
Waiting for me to turn around.
Toxic crusaders; pullin me down.
Devil’s advocates; in the back ground.
Angels have wings; no need to touch down.
The thought; alone. So profound.
Karma knocking; she’s on the rebound.
Hold-up; that’s her – calling me now.
Jun 9, 2014
Jun 9, 2014 at 4:34 PM UTC
crusaders
christianized, zealous warmongers with ****** stains on stainless steel blades
hauling with them the great flapping insignias of royalty, emblems of their special heritage
disregarding the fact blood flows warm and fast all the same, nobody spared
familiar ties shattered over petty disputes of land and territory in the name of a great purpose
a great purpose disguising glory-seekers and painters whose favorite color is red
led by a massive snowy warhorse with crimson hooves and jet black beady eyes
old, worn, and of a raggedy golden mane forever worshipped
it is my fate to follow
(that’s what they tell me)
crusaders
biblical storytales springing to life as they gallivant across the country singing do-goods
while their actions connotate some great demon lurking about behind their holy words
valiant warriors in service to a mighty omnipresent deity watching woefully from above
as they unnecessarily **** innocents that they knew it was wrong to ******
blind belief is as alive as bloodlust to them, screaming their lungs out for the almighty
they are the salvation and the scourge, leeches of the land and lordly leaders for long
fearful eyes of aliens stare to the sky and grovel in a piteous attempt for mercy
he cannot condone this
(and that’s what they don’t)
crusaders
knights of cardboard armor and ironclad skulls falling by the thousands
yet they relentlessly hunt the enemy like predatory raptors of the past, voracious
not yet declawed or defanged as they are before the plastic wisdom of man claiming to be
the god of glory, gold, and gore; suddenly he is a savage ravager and avenger of the undead
men swear themselves to a cloaked idol in order to become accusers of the guilty
when the openness of perception may be all that is truly necessary
even kings are defenseless against the all-consuming force of religious blessing
how is it just?
crusaders
god’s greatest success
crusaders
god’s greatest regret
(am i both or neither?)
Mar 4, 2019
Mar 4, 2019 at 10:26 PM UTC