Conqueror

Above, Beyond

The morning, crisp and broken by the curfew
Of rising larks and pigeons in the choir,
Its breaching sun is bursting through the grass dew
And thinning out the misty dawn’s perspire.
Many rest upon their linen sheets around,
And you, the only currently arise –
Solo is your ally when breaking the ground;
Undistracted, undisturbed – your alibis.

Your muscles twitch uncertain of their purpose,
Or whether purpose serves them yet to start,
Your head begins suggesting that you’re worthless
And battles with the resolve of your heart.
A road that much less travelled must be conquered,
But necessary not if by those who
Strike with no emotion or emotions blurred;
Push without belief that they are able to.

Your body aches from trying hard to break it,
Your mind, a pulp that no more forms a thought,
The blisters, bruises hurt too much to fake it;
These tattered fibres frayed, no longer taut.
But life is short and time the only healer
Will let your body, mind and soul repair,
This paranoia your only defeater,
This deprecation your only despair.

You dread the distance that you have not travelled
And panic that it’s not for you to make –
Convince yourself they’ll find you here, unravelled,
Persuade yourself that this is a mistake.
The road is long, it winds around your torment,
Your trepidation herein trips your feet
For by your fears alone will you be misspent,
And hope will no more greet you in the street.

So down your doubts and leave them in the gutter,
And tighten up the laces on your shoes,
Let not defeating thoughts be yours to utter,
It’s by your hand alone that you can lose.
Keep going until there’s no more to go through,
And further, faster, than you’ve ever done,
Above the limitations that can’t catch you,
Beyond the endless footfalls of your run.

marathon

I Am Become Death

And I will say – now I am become fire.
The liar, the thief, stirred underneath
In golden chasms burst forth
Unto wrought iron skies
Shedding white scales
Upon the veils of the red.

And I will say – now I am become faith.
The wraith deity, gravity defiler
Tied to the fate, the hate
Of beaten idols
Lying in scattered pieces
Upon barren soils.

And I will say – now I am become fear.
Spread clear under the moonlight,
The sight of me frightens,
Whitens the eyes of all
Shadows cast from moonbeams
Upon the seams of the earth.

And I will say – now I am become pain.
Ravaged insane, bequeathed with daggers
For teeth, fine and foul,
Shatters the ivory,
Freely feasting on flesh
Upon the irony of endless wounds.

And I will say – now I am become law.
Upon the clasp and claw; raw the heat,
Meat blistering, burning, filling the urns
Turning masses to ashes
At the desecration of cities
Upon the fall of my pity.

And I will say – now I am become loss.
Creator of chaos, struck firm in the forge,
For George could not slay me,
Pray he stay hidden under tor and stone,
Lone slumber in English beds
Upon the plagues I spread and spread.

And I will say – now I have become past.
Unsurpassed by Ascalon, thou art benign
At the refining of my doom,
The approaching end soon beckons,
My reckoning utter, unpaid
Upon the flayed scars of these lands.

And I will say – witness my destruction.
My desolation, laying waste
As though an aftertaste of a life-age,
Waging my ancient war, white wings unfurled
I need say no more – for I am become Death,
The destroyer of worlds.

The White Dragon
In Welsh legend, the white dragon was one of two warring dragons who represented the ongoing war between the English and the Welsh. The white dragon represented England,
as opposed to the red dragon of Wales

The Conqueror

He crossed the seven oceans, brought the seven tides
But did not bring the mercy in His rippled wake,
The loss was His to gain, was His to cast aside
And yet, to pillage, plunder, was all His to take.
The comets and the stars above could not lament,
Or cease the rapid odyssey of his ascent.

His armies were immeasurable, immense in size
And none amongst the ranks did dare question His cause,
For they had once been men of freedom, men of pride,
For they had once been men that fought in grander halls.
But challenging His tyranny that knew no bounds.
Was but to dig their own grave in the waiting grounds.

The earth itself rose up and split itself apart
As He traversed the ruptured scars of its remains.
He strode across the bleeding magma’s of her heart,
Across the glass-like ashes of her blackened plains.
His glare was limitless, surveying without pause,
Ensuring all succumb to monocratic laws.

The fires parted ways like oceans drawn by moons
And though they licked at He, His flesh was left untried,
He strode across the roaring chasms without wounds
And laughed upon the faces of the gods defied
The very cosmos could not halt His forward march
And burnt as though but fabric in His aftermath.

But still between He and that which He seeks to hold
His stature riding high as death himself looked on,
He, utterly aware of those that were so bold
To challenge such a thunderstorm, a maelstrom.
His wrath alone diminished quick their measly gains
And cast their tortured carcasses upon the flames.

The sky above turns black from ceaseless firefight,
As blood begins to pour out of the cracks of earth,
An endless age of men fall down in wasted plight,
Then buckle into piles of ashes, mounds of dirt.
But He rides hard and fast upon His blackened horse,
Crushing foe and follower without remorse.

Millennia draw on but his defenses stand,
As millions are notched beneath His brutal laws,
The waves of those that could not serve before His hand;
Devoured before utterings of His great jaws.
A thousand years of immolation whispered in
And countless souls annihilated at His whim.

Until no more was left, and nothingness endured,
His domination absolute and ever long
The mountains, crumbled wastelands to his fate immured,
The oceans, barren canyons of oblivion.
And as the ceaseless winds rage on across His lands
They pour the scattered wastes through His triumphant hands.

Why Make Man That Which Man Can Never Be?

Why make man that which man can never be?
Why give him eyes to cast from misery?
Why give him ears to blot out cries of pain?
Why give him arms to fight for selfish gain?
Why give him hands to build a tool of death?
Why give him legs to crush a final breath?
Why give him feet to run from those that crawl?
Why give him strength to build a higher wall?
Why give him speech to whisper wicked lies?
Why give him thoughts to overthrow the wise?
Why give him love to batter and abuse?
Why give him hope to arrogantly lose?
Why give him light when darkness he will seek?
Why give him peace when havoc he will wreak?
Why give him warmth when frost will chill his soul?
Why give him freedom when he seeks control?
Why give him choice when errors he will make?
Why give him truth to falsify and fake?
Why give him earth when fires he will burn?
Why give him sea to pollute in return?
Why give him power to bend and corrupt?
Why give him skill to make atoms erupt?
Why give him courage when ensnared in fear?
Why give him life when death is ever near?

Why make man that which man can never be?
When man alone can change his destiny.