Rhythmic Perfection (Anapestic Trimeter)

There's a river that twists in the mind that I plunder and ravish with sieves, on crusades to the summit of rhyme where my Phoenix of tropes and schemes live. In a war to free diction's fair Queen where the Soldiers of Babel bemuse and the modern day graceless regimes are in battles to stifle my muse! In my quest for her verse of prestige I have traveled a nexus of words with this Lexis of language on siege; where the dissonant hum drum is heard! Oh, the poise of my bayonet firm as I pin down my thoughts in a rush! Oh, the will of the language it squirms as her essence of glory I brush! She's the Queen Muse that whispers within as she watches me battle with style, she supplies me the yarn that I spin as she lends me her rhythm awhile. It's the moment her Highness is freed that the Armies of Dissonance fall and the sound of Perfection can bleed in those lyrical sounds that enthrall!