July 12, 2007

• Poems

  The Poetry of Exterminance
  Three Poems

  Fighting For the Fourteen - an Acronymous Poem

  Far not from the frightful morrow
  On the very eve of sorrow
  Replete with arms at ready
  Great warriors standing steady
  Over the battleground now gaze
  To contemplate their final days
  To plan ahead for battle's wrath
  Etching out a suitable path
  Not pausing to ponder fear
  Nor bemoan the lack of luxuries near
  Only wishing to encounter the foe
  To end their lives and lay them low

  Fighting for survival
  Our lives and liberties at stake
  Universal Nature's Laws our bible
  Resisting, with whatever it takes
  To victory or Valhalla we march
  Embrace the bitter blitz
  Even as above us Death's halo arches
  Not pausing to voice regrets
  When faced at last with mortal foe
  Our ranks braced for the brunt
  Ruined we their ordered rows
  Devasting them to back from front
  So hail the sure victory!

  Arya Numerica

  Sing a song of beauty
  An eye full of Aryan light
  Four and twenty Valkyries
  Danced, to my delight!
  And as my eyes were opened
  My heart began to sing
  Was this not the vision
  Which justified everything?

  Fourteen maidens skipped along
  A trail by the riverside;
  Singing and smiling and making strong
  The spirits of men who've died.
  In less joyous times, down that path
  Grim warriors once hurried;
  And now, long since the battle's wrath,
  Eighty-eight soldiers there lay buried.

  Time seems to tread tardily
  While battle's brunt is borne;
  The fates seem to deal unto men hardly
  When the piper plays his horn.
  Yet years seventeen and thirty-eight score
  Passed like the flight of a beast
  And all the brave warriors of yore
  In Valhalla's halls now feast.

  A Warning to the Male of the Species:

  When beauty's bounty blessed my eyes
  And bore the burden of my stares and sighs
  I felt, deep down, a dire debt
  A price for privilege which must be met
  And, if such beauty were mine to see
  I must fight, to keep her free.

  Stood and spoke is what I did;
  My name not something I'd have hid.
  Aroused the ire of beauty's bane
  While their hounds bayed that it were vain
  And foolish to resist the killer kings
  Who sought to end all beautiful things.

  Yet my eyes still find with briefest seek
  Justification in fair maiden's cheek;
  Cause enough is ever there,
  And epiphany in golden hair
  And in slightest quirk of expressive lips,
  Reason enough perpetually drips.

  So prison gates yawn and sword raises high,
  The demons croon "For a pardon apply!"
  The temperature drops and the lights fade away,
  And now starts the first of many a long day
  Sitting in stillness and far from all pleasant
  In an attempt to make me all good things resent.

  But part of me will always be free
  And beauty which spurred me I'll continue to see
  Burned for all time into the sight of my soul
  Frozen forever in immaculate splendour
  No matter what evils I'll be forced to endure
  Or how long I'll be held in a hole;

  For what man can say 'The price is too great!
  'If I fight for her beauty, they'll accuse me of hate!
  'And suffer and fear I've known more than enough!
  'What more must I pay for mere image of love?
  'Why even try, to but die when push comes to shove?
  'I'm here to enjoy, not strive or act tough!'

  What will such encounter, when inevitable Fate
  Leaves them face to face with Eternity
  Beyond Death's yawning gate?
  The gods granted us fertility,
  If for fruition we but fight;
  And if we do not - tremble, come Night!

  For being cold and alone is the sole lot
  Of those who ever fled, and never have fought.

  - Bill Noble

  • 6:58 pm
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