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As I lay another cedar beam plumb for our home
smoke plumes, serpentine and sulfuric,  interrupts the sunshine,
I look below the ridge, Eve standing silent
with weapon in hand, a woman so grand,
panic has no nest in her person, fear has no finger on her pulse,
I move like lightning to war by my Lady's side,

Valley vandels have come, scortching field fruit,
searing insidious signs into our peach and apple trees,
incarnate, the Devil disheveled with a defunct posse of three
approaches me, hailing not from a city of angels but from a ghetto of ghouls,
mean and ugly like ignorance injured by the ivory tusks of innocence,
a madman desperate for the destruction of Divinity,
unskillful and wishful for lies to come alive,
he's a scribbler scribe, a dribbler riddler
a stereotype simpleton, frontin and gruntin
fallin short of the great gangsta idol,
just a stereotypical imbecile, a pencil with no lead,
burpin chicken feathers claimin
them to be the silk quill of Angels,

I turn to Eve now with eyes saying now is the moment for demise,
briefly, before before I strike steel across the throat of Hell itself
our first promise to each other repeats in my memory,
" I forever fight for you "
as her brown eyes convince me of loyalty, love royal,
she rips her blade through his groin
as I open a river across the throat of this terrible thug...

By Poet - Adam/J.A.B.

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