Transformations Among War-Bred Kin

The doors are open over at the pub.  Open Link Night is in full swing.  Stop on by D'Verse and check out all the great poetry in play, and while you're there, link up one of your own.

atop charred earth, decisions remain

   when foliage stays,                                   

                                  does our soil yet still grow?

Trampling beasts

                  hunted, scared

                           as herds of men

                                             frolic near

Ensiferous and cruel

the blades weep

for outcomes likely due

Stained

                           by

                                    the spots

                        we grow

Shedding our skin thrice in life

        the disconnected cord’s the first

            followed by the innocence of youth—

                      here is where mutations spread,

                                 altering the balances—

                             and the last to leave

                         is the transformation,

                  as men, we’ll never see

Apocalypse must Wait (Mythic Series Volume Eleven)

To the bridge we made our way,

Silent and calm would not stay,

Soon blood would fill the air beneath,

The sky filled with nasty beast,

And this mangled sum,

Must defeat, prevent the battle from loss,

Seize the motion, here at this gate,

For all mortals and God’s alike,

Ragnarok will come if fail we do,

Then, as I still was in contemplation,

Men came from the other side,

Swaying their might to and fro,

Bearing advice for us to go,

I instructed these sentries well,

Our presence was of Godly design,

I apologized for their lack of knowledge,

And bore no will or malice,

Instead would find it helpful to defend Asgaard

Alongside this spectacular crew,

These guardians proud and wise,

Detected my words as lies,

Convince them I could not,

Surely our mission was not these fine men,

I explained our purpose once again,

Stated as such we would not go,

And so they chimed once more,

Leave our face the wrath of lore,

A standoff for many years,

Between the giant guardians and our clan,

But then from the North avalanche was heard,

And from the South flames ensued,

From the west creatures still,

To the east the worst of ills,

Converging in one last event,

For this I explained was why we were sent,

The guardians spoke one last time,

Stated we would stand as one,

Until the darkness was no more,

But then upon that point,

We would then become the last to smote,

I had no choice but to agree,

Without their arms we would match poor,

And in unison the beasts emerged,

So many demons,

I knew only few would emerge,

Then I pulled my double axe,

And so the song began,

Spinning in the air, Guardians and man,

Fire in the sea, Man and Guardian,

On the earth for where we stood,

Man fought best as could be earned,

Besieged from each and every side,

Our victories to this point

Dwindled when compared to what was left,

Fought we had and each his wounds,

Many dead, many tombs to build,

But then it looked like the end was near,

Suddenly the Gods themselves emerged,

To which all men and Guardians lit their face,

Nothing could match this force now,

Orc to elf, Giant to serpent,

Each and every one did fall,

Victory itself revealed itself,

Joy came forth, pride filled us all,

As the men were celebrating with the Gods

Helten was called from the crowd,

A name I had forgot I knew,

A moniker that long since went,

As a child I was called this name,

My mother held and my father called,

Yet he was not there growing up,

But seeing the one to call,

All holes in my arc were filled,

Loki was my creator,

My father, my maker,

Then I knew, even as such he had left,

Too many miracles my life had happed,

Too many unknown bearers of gifts sent,

Perhaps this is why I had a side for war,

Like no mortal I’d met before,

I’d often dream myself a God,

But now I stand before one now,

I swelled in joy and terror,

It was not the God I had dreamed back long,

I had always felt a connect with Thor, Odin’s son,

Instead it was the Other, Loki the trickster,

And yet amongst regret, I felt complete,

Whole as any other point in my time,

I went to him as swiftly as these ragged legs would take,

But then I felt a blow to my head,

I paused, then stopped, then fell to my knees,

What creature did we not end,

Who could be the one to end me dead?

I turned and saw the face of the Guardians,

Together as they did warn they would,

Loki came to my side,

Son he swelled from deep inside,

And in such a moment Loki did cry,

That moment I did die.

Into the Dragon's Lair (Mythic Series Volume Ten)

When we reached the forge,

A dark and deadly suspicion

Overcame my sensibility,

For within the glowing cavern

Lives a dragon, of ungodliness

Yet we stand conspiring,

First a tracker would test a path,

When returned ahead we’d march,

And wage destruction upon scale and skin,

At the mouth, a foul stench raced upon our very flesh,

Awakened a glorious amber,

Monster from another world,

Draped upon uncountable treasure chest,

Overflowing with trinkets, both silver and in gold,

His eye peeled back to see an army,

Preparing the strike to come,

Archers flailed arrows through the sky

Brilliant war has sight a light,

Yet fail they did to pierce the armor

Of a dragon well worth the attack,

Flame burst from his snout and tongue,

Singing all and burning some,

Quickly his wings expand,

Removing himself from his mounds of coin,

Deeper and deeper still,

Into the innards of its cave,

The path the dragon weaved,

Many men looked in awe,

Never in their life had glory within their grasp,

A few dropped shield and sword,

Within the wealth they were absorbed,

Armor raced to temperatures peak,

Within mere instance, all that remained was the boots and feet,

Three were down and down the rest would persist,

To snare this behemoth in our midst,

Each step down the throat of this stony grave,

Light abandoned the path we tread,

And torches would be lit instead,

At the basin a river sounds,

Rippling notions like when pounced upon,

And then infernos sheared us in,

Behind a pillar, made of quartz and sand,

In the torching wall held candles became lit,

And draws would fall when eyes focused too,

One had turned to six,

Six dragons in our midst,

Five were small, as are many,

But too stood tall above them all,

One of the beasts, in the back,

Would be the one we last attacked,

Many heads upon one neck,

Flames igniting all around,

Men began to question this journey,

Were we purposely led into agony,

An ambush like this could not come from another man,

Nor did it I replied,

These are guardians of a demon great,

There below, a dismal gate,

Once we slay each and every,


Those of us still to live,

Would enter and retrieve

What glory the Gods will get,

Upon my knees I laid prayer,

For each and every God to hear,

When the battle plan came clear to me,

Do not fight each separately,

Damage all at once permanently,

And so we scattered to every side,

Axe to wall and flame to find

The weakness in the columns of stone,

And after much blood was spent

The exterior came down with it,

Buried deep beneath the rubbish

Breathing dragons did not disturb us,

Pushing aside boulder upon boulder

We unearthed a path to the gate to try

Reclaim the prize for the God’s grace,

Unlock the latch and light the flame,

To guide us along this spiral descent,

Until the wet stamping of moist clay we set our boots down to,

There a coffin miles wide,

Taking might from all inside,

Unleash the golden corpse of an age old find,

The snake like tomb of another time,

Golden wings and bronzed claw,

Diamonds were eyes once saw,

But there we knew the second in view,

The magnificent and glorious dragon sword and shield,

One left by our count,

Six have fell and one left to mount,

To the bridge we shall ride,

One last battle left to fight

Betrayed by Swine (Mythic Series Volume Five)

Our reemergence was but minutes old,

As the temple our eyes told,

Short march past

Some angry brush

Stay on course avoid we must

The bloodshed we’ve grown accustomed to,

The pain, the misery, the prayers by some

That each moment should be it for them,

Upon our march, single filed

One man noticed the peculiar absence

Not a noise stirred, no voicing screaming

From the clouds,

We all agreed it was strange indeed

But it was the comfort our ears need,

It’s been long, devastating,

We all are worn, but in that holy place

Our deeds this day, a culmination

Of our past thousand or longer hours,

Spent beneath death, spitting in the face of agony,

But here we are with all odds beaten,

Arrived we have, our war is done,

Moments from the gate of holy men,

Another of my clan spoke a point we had blinded eyes toward,

Since when are boars content to abide by arbitrary mortal law,

Never had they witnessed obliging pigs unconfined,

And then our weakest soldier escaped a thought,

To which blades unveiled, and shields aligned,

“How did not but one, but how did eight boar arrive to this place,

Miles from the level ground, a good distance into clouded sky”

In pattern, in design

The heavens had changed

The lightest blue filtered through a whitened hue,

Transformed to ruby red and dark tinting screen,

The swine had betrayed us,

Our own satisfaction had left is in contentment,

Pig flesh burning, snouts and fangs contorting

And from the swine monsters rose,

All the while biding time to strike

Shape shifters in boars’ clothes

Monsters shapeless without form,

Engorging the peace this mountain morn,

Soon their darkened flesh

Would meet the blood of the fallen

At the mercy of our once tempered blades,

And so it went, only one clansmen

Lost his head, but from which

My eyes found a way, an angle

This led to an ease in victory,

Where every monster would be slain,

As my brother broke containment

Shield in right, left with sword

A trickle of aura tore through painted cloud,

The monsters tail bore swift

Lopped my man in two,

But in this moment of supreme sorrow,

The emanation scarred his shield

And with light reflected their weakness was revealed,

And in such the very manner,

We stood our ground,

Swords high, shields angled,

One by one, they didn’t learn,

One by one,

As is the pattern we’ve wrote before,

The numbers in helvete,

 Have shrank some more

The chalice is behind the temples’ mouth,

 Lest another tries to stave, soon high the chalice shall be raised

An Attack By Dwarves (Mythic Series Volume One)

Canvas the brush when creatures sleep

Quietly survey the open field

Transforming the present image

Into the way it shall look tomorrows’ eve,

Lutes recording time in notes

Taping up wounded brothers,

Closing the lids on many more,

Friends and foes alike,

Flesh is flesh without

Individuality,

All shall pass and pay reckoning,

All shall meet his time, and pay his due,

When I returned to camp,

Lights were dim, as they should,

Yet something just did not feel right,

From sheathing unleashed a flash

Of tempered moonlight,

Stealth never being my strongest suit,

Charging like I’ve been raised,

A boar attacking prey at night,

I find ogre children or so I thought,

Standing aligned, center of a circle,

All my kind were entranced, bewildered

Under some evil notion each of them,

And there then in that moment,

As light reflects their form uncovers, the mangled faces of these wicked fiends,

Tricksters, half men, imps, devils’ rejects

Different parts hold different names, beast or man; I will not ask this of them,

But distrusted in any case, flows from their eyes to the paralyzed,

Emitting stories, drawing pity from the emotionless,

Like succubus draining blood, taking souls from each of them,

Letting slowly until the flesh will collapse around bone

So bold they continued still,

They saw my rage, and I their fear,

Yet they stood cement to mud, their trance would not be censured,

Only way to sever this, detach their skulls midsentence,

As my clan recovered without recollection of these events,

Events I shall not remind out of respect and friendship,

I display dwarf, another of their name, upon dwarf to the pyre,

The blackened smoke will signal another talisman,

Yet another gateway removed,

This a message to their darkened master,

Next time you best try better

Relics of the war past lost (Soldier Chronicles Volume I)

Relics of the war past lost

Lives worn, erode like caustic

Dream, a reality polar opposite

Vision is not an option

Limb to limb,

Man to a Man

Devaluation, perhaps

The collateral

Snake skinned and venom-less,

Our opposition deposed of pride,

Crown, Throne and a possible

Side effect most takes away as the only

Benefit to the thrust forced upon the sons

And daughters of the now childless, or less children

To coddle by hand,

Death was, is, the only salve to a wound never heals

Death pictured in voluminous detail

Replaying again and again, between

The rainy procession down the lot and in through

Stained glass,

The vision haunts, as the body is yet returned

To this matter the parent holds responsible the president,

Chief armament to a desperate many

Master motivator, manipulator, ignorant entirely of the fact

This highest honored American had no part in your child’s fall,

The previous did no such propaganda either, perhaps you see things

Different, difficult to paint a proper portrait when you only see in a solitary color,

It is your prudence to allow your mind it’s time to heal,

It needs coddling itself at this, the grimmest hour,

Not to taint my stream of conscience, with a viewpoint so personal,

But for those enabled skill sets aware, in whichever place your eyes meet word,

Read between the linear, obtain the non colored space and the shade it colors the spine,

Their position, their telescopic lens, periscope into and out of, will reveal

And what it reveals to you, the individual reader, inclined toward poetics,

Yet will not feign eyes from truth, what you feel, however you see it, those and more are my positions

But I shall induce one last transmittal

Soldiers are a special breed

Selfless, martyring if I should paint in such theology

They deserve more than they have earned

Celebrations should be on display, outside

The pat on the back, glad to have you home parade,

Each owes them, whether visual or not, look long enough come will the thought