First Horseman

July 1, 2015

Watch the funeral pyre grow higher;

Watch as the noose grows tighter.

Listen to the cry of the cockroach

As he sees the final horsemen encroach.

Exhaling embers; the calescent iron in my eyes.

This body remembers this foul heat which I despise.

Feverish sweat and this hellish heat

Hath made me regret ever getting back on my feet.

But the wooden ramparts over ran,

Hoary captain yells: "get out while you can!"

Routed. Yet I would not yield.

With strength full, a brandished axe I still wield.

I was caught between the heart's hell hammer

And fear's razor wintery maw.

But betwixt there lays a certain glamour,

One long lost to the sane of this ancient awe.

So with ashen breath of hoary hearth

And footsteps with leaden lead scorch once green earth.

I pass the burning legions spouting war cries of demora and woe! I still seek single combat with overwhelming foe.

Air in torment with gelid gales;

Howling threnodies yet icy male prevails.

Gray waters froth green foam with bitter salts lashing Rosen cheeks.

Onward, onward! Grimaced man yells for battle and glory he still seeks.

Trample down barricades of the frighten masquerades.

Send bolts of silver crashing, cracking helms;

Shields splintering in sprays of thick crimson as the rampart is overwhelmed.

Cutting down pleas and ululations; ignore their cries.

For this is the moment we live for; total domination until one side dies.

So suppress your humanity to be blind to the atrocity.

We all are hallow husks clad in steel and iron,

With fleshed skulls tattooed in scars; human lions.

Yet one still lashes out

With brandished axe, his last words naught but a shout.

Blood mixes with spring's last melt waters.

Yet upon this moor lay the dead thousands of somebody's sons and daughters.

The funeral pyre doth grow higher.

The noose now ever tighter.

Harken to the cry of the cockroach.

For the final horsemen hath made his approach.

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