Rhapsodus! Exaltus!
Furious foe!
Hand over structure,
In battle, all shall bow.
Indebted to no one,
Enthralled by all;
A ravaging hellion
Breaks bonds, friends or foe.
Tame a wild warrior?
Deny hungry hands their due food?
How lonesome and ignorant
That stool would do feel.
And in smouldering wakening
A clear path shall be known,
No man shall forget
Battle cry of fury’s fire.
This warrior:
Peace and fighting,
Love and connection.
Divinity through spirituality
Emptying into a vastness
Laid out before
Sweeping vistas.
And India, aho.
Pastures I walk on
Where my window-less remains.
Crickets and butterflies,
Like this dusty ramblin-rose.
I am not a soldier,
Bandaged up and bruised,
I am a the lone cowboy
Pictured and framed.
It escapes the wild warriors
With my heart: dear, forever.
Like a copper pan at the tin store,
Stars in my campfire.
Cyclical moon which bringeth thy sun:
Boil over warm coffee.
Because I love this way,
Where my window-less remains.
Do not take your hands from the steering wheel and let it drift into unkept edges of city streets.
Make haste! Make speed, good man! Towards dotted lines of hope we must spare no time in pursuing!
But, mind your thoughts as you swerve here and there. Remember precious and delicate matters at hand.
Remember the gambling stone that sits atop at lookout point; sunsets and cityscapes that sweep the horizon so.
Can it mean it is so? Can the limits thrive against the collapsing opportunities of hope thrusting inside my veins?
I should think as you call out my name and shatter my silence that even in the darkest of hours hope should be flung.
Despise my bated breath as non-committal silence that burns down the doors of unturned and untrue thought.
I am a so-called warrior. I am a fenced in guardian. I am a dotted line on the roads to freedom.
I am an invisible sanctity on the lonely island of hope hidden far away from human consumption.
A straightened arrow in the land of many signs, sugar coating fantasy with bikinis and high rise-high cut jean shorts.
Count down my passions as we speed into the night; top down and music shedding our inhibitions like a Friday night shakedown.
Hey, you there
You stranger
These are my streets
This is my neighbourhood
I was weened on these streets
In my young adult life
Sent away from my family
Sent off to find my own…
And then the war broke out
Took so much of our lives
Threw it into fields
Like cow manure fertilizing growth
But for us, it was different, ahh!
It had the opposite effect
Killing us, what nationality
What respect we had harboured
Was lost, forgotten, silenced
And now. Huh
Well now they give me a cane
Extended health-care
And expect me to be happy
To ramble on without misery
Without resent
Top button buttoned..
But I’m a warrior!
The mind of a master
Oh you just wait
I have this planned
This is all how it works
You just wait now
A passing stranger steps onto the street
Three wise men watch him with their eyes
Pulling apart the layers of unknown
With one single nod it’s all gone to waste
Flying with patience an assault comes ahead
Loaded with a single sword
One made to draw the blood of valiant men
The attack goes ahead
Hands moving without thought
Trained for this night
The four become one
Across the rough surface of the street
Clanging swords ring out into the night
Intensified by the glaring moon high in the sky
The warrior’s shadows all bounce off the walls
Leaving traces carved out on the surfaces
One man with hair tied high above his head
Yells out into the night
A victim to the strangers sword:
One knee, sword curled into the heart
The three that remain round into the stable
Horses are gone; all out for the night
Only the warriors remain
The magician starts the fire and the blazing builds
One nick on the shoulder for the stranger in rags
The wise men were right, they knew who he was
Staring and breathing and allowing it to flow
The three, instant action, begin once again
A sword through the neck takes down the second wise man
His long netted hair flails out in a circle
Around the dying corpse, gasping for breath
Flying down low, another life for you now
With that quick flick of the wrist, two is all who remain
A wise man now friendless, and the stranger in rags
They know it has come to this, they saw it begin
A few knowing glances, a few words to share
But not with this bounty, the booty in rags
Tucked deep inside, is what they came for at last
It is death for one more, this battle is fast
Swords drawn for attack and a rush to the head
Circling one another they trace out their path
The fight and its wings is back on the street
With swords flashing wildly repeating their names
The masters dance in the ancient martial art
Without a noise escaping their mouths
The show, a pure form and fashion, carries on
Dust kicking up and the moons glare from all angles
Then, instantaneous rest
A calming all around as if hushed by the night
Settling of the dust, echoing of the night
And footsteps leading away, one last wise man dead
One stranger continues, awaiting the next challengers without relent
I’ve tried to pull the gun a thousand times before
Planning with unending tenacity
Sifting through the dusty pages of yesterdays notes
While I watch my brothers pull away with theirs
I see the champions hold their trophies proud
And still I cry for justice to revenge
I struggle with my ends that dare cut down the strings
That weave a heavy cobweb like the clouds above
I try with intelligence to seal away my fate
To push my luck with effort after work
But still as I pray upon my victims: few
Then out of the dark
A lone warrior cry rings
That brother of lust
The one that was lost
Gathers his weapons
And races off to the fight
This is the last draw
The strain on the straw
This is the tipping point
Pulling out of this joint
It wouldn’t have mattered
Had it been said another way
It told me all, as it needed to
I am a warrior, unafraid of you
Judgement has passed on again
Deep within this chain link fence
We battered the souls of the searching one
Wore him down like a beaten son
The wind just blew away
Left us alone here today
Are you afraid, in your little way?
I’m mad, and the killings on
