EROS AND THANATOS
Only we will ever know
The sadness of our love
Like stone climbing ivy
The ramparts far above
What waters it will wake
A cold indifferent lake
Thrashing in the shallows
Crashing in the waves
Smooth, a shell abandoned
Tangled in the weeds
Soft and supple moss
Growing on the trees
What wounded prey to follow
What forests we will stalk
On paths beaten narrow
We alone have walked
A war of resistance
Beaten into dust
Only we will ever know
The sadness of our loss
At the edge of the Thar desert’s sandy festoon,
the train of the ancient Aravalli hills cascades
with the undulating landscape of antique dunes,
cradles joyous Jaipur, the pink city of Rajasthan.
On carved hill-top mighty forts’ stone walls splay,
wrap the pictorial city portrait with history drape.
Aligned through the sculpted ornate gateways
the orthogonal roads symbolize cubic cityscape .
The archaic forts on the chiseled hill crest
stand like the regiment of outdated sentinels
on the ramparts of the glorious olden times,
embedded in the wind-scraped craggy ridges.
The tinsels of drizzling moonbeam in satin nights
paint murals with stardust on concrete canvas,
framed as silhouette on the smoky desert sky.
I’m charmed by the charisma of this colorful city.
Childlike innocence
turns stones into shiny stars
clouds into tall ships—
wonder walks barefoot through grass
where doubts, care not to follow.
Wet hands in beach sand
build castle kingdom ramparts
to defy the surf—
knowing that naivety
is a fugacious bulwark.
Morning eyes open
to greet the world, unarmoured—
as a child artist
who fears how they're growing up
will dispel their impishness.
Long, wide, vast, high, dreadfully deep protective walls
Battlements, ramparts, bulwarks, and tower folders
Living quarters, arrow slits, gatehouses, and halls
Monstrous walls built as though with steel-alloy boulders
Water-filled deep massive moats to obstruct the foes
Bastions and merlons within majestic meadows
Forts and castles are mysteries of histories.
They are focal themes of bewildering stories.
Written: October 11, 2025, for contest sponsored by: Craig Cornish
*****************
The obsolete stone fort stood ubiquitous and ominous,
a layer was full of tales and osmosed senses.
Towers cast a silence that weighed on my chest—
as the wind whistled through castle slits,
It slid past the slumped ramparts.
Wet clay—damp air sighed in the gaps of dawn,
cold beared my step, which felt both cruel and vast.
Fear and solitude were etched into every wall~
yet my will flared, torchlike, in my gaze.
This castle—whether chosen or not—is my refuge,
The roof evokes nostalgia yet lacks warmth—
I recall sunshine seeping over willow trees,
The stones convey the idea of fortitude.
Life must follow me from hollow halls—
to chambers where my pulse dares to echo.
It ought to linger where apathy holds no sway~
quench your thirst from the dark wells of lust.
Shape a shield from the void that wraps us,
It is dotted with heirlooms, built bare of love,
and grasped tightly in the inferno of despair.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
we built them in closets with worn out bed sheets
and couch cushions heavy as boulders.
the flashlight’s beam cut through the dark,
a knight's sword, our citadel against bedtime.
the carpet was moat-water,
broomsticks and mops our armored steeds.
We drew maps on pizza box lids—
Here Be Dragons in red crayon,
Mom's vacuum sketched as a sea monster
with fangs of dust.
there were no stone towers, just laundry-basket turrets
and battlements of stacked books where
discarded milk crates became our thrones.
we knew the magic: how a blanket draped just so
could turn December drafts into mountain winds~
they stood until Monday, these cardboard kingdoms—
until recycling bins swallowed the ramparts whole,
leaving only carpet dents where dragons breathed.
And us—we still smelt of marker ink and dust already
scanning the garage for next Saturday's unconquered country.
Your heart is a fort
mine is a castle,
the ramparts of each
are unassailable.
Send in your dragon,
I'll send in my knight,
what will prevail
the armor or fire?
The fire
of your heart
melts the armor
of mine.
The fort
and the castle
entwine and become
a kingdom of love.
In the halls of Shambala where love and light shine
Warriors gather for the inevitable day
When evil storms the gates and ramparts.
In this battle the forces of materialism
Will attempt to appropriate the sacred
And the united forces of spirituality
Will respond by pouring forth
To ultimate victory of liberation through death.
Who are these spiritual forces?
Buddhists, Christians, Jews, Hindus and Sufis.
Who are the materialist forces?
Radical Muslims, Woke anarchists and atheists.
What was a legend handed down for centuries
After the invading hordes of Islam
Swept across Southern Asia
Is now on the verge of modern reality.
Especially now with the latest Christian martyrdom,
The stage is set for battle
The timeline brought forward
And the sides clearly drawn.
Where will you be in the battle of Shambala?
(9/19/25)
Allocation, O ally?
Resources put where?
In the heads of those who fly?
Worry, hast thou care?
O ye spirits, I collect!
End Times, be my Muse!
Golden gods to genuflect?
Dare to disabuse!
Wrath of wind, thy cyclone?
It really must blow in.
Heaven and Hell, hie to hone!
Drenching downpour, din!
Ramparts of old castle?
They're slippery when wet.
Gods of death, call thy vassal!
How could we forget?
Tomb of ancient pharaoh?
A curse is on the door.
Folly thus to enter? Go?
Doom, thy pinafore!
Mercenary armies!
Become, O lords of hell!
Storm from thy cemeteries!
Legions, lead thee well!
Soar, O mighty eagles!
O parapets, take heed:
Fate and Fortune, full the fools!
Grind them in their greed!
Ache in heart of bygone race?
Lulled within thy chase.
Dithering is thy disgrace!
Seize the skin of face...
In 1773 the sun never set
on the British Empire so goes the story
now the 'Teatime Islands'
crumbs of Great Britain’s former glory
but as the moon rose over the White Cliffs of Dover
standing guard at the Gateway to England
ramparts the enemy to forestall
if the ravens left the Tower of London
the kingdom itself then would fall
and Britain would rule Gibraltar
one of the Pillars of Hercules
so long as macaques inhabit the Rock
another of man's legendary absurdities
but should those Barbary apes depart
the British too will soon follow
and the Overseas Territory come apart
yet to save the primate population
Winston Churhill did insist
in the early days of World War II
reinforcing British rule would persist
to ensure the troop replenishment
he issued a directive September 1944
for five such females brought from Morocco
to maintain the number at twenty-four
and so it seems my friend in the end
the continuance of this green and pleasant land
is in the balance and totally dependent on keeping
a certain breed of bird and Old World monkey on hand
A few articulate with humor and grief,
others are hinged
so that ears can hear each other.
Many bones are scaffolds
for vision, prayer and procreation.
One hollow bone hums in the throat,
it channels the smoky saxophones
of consciousness.
When death comes to nibble holes
into breastplates and ramparts
an osseous honeycomb of memory
forms caves,
cavities for disembodied thoughts.
Mind, of course, has always had
its own immortal bones and marrow,
and so even
the humble bitsy sparrow.
Ramparts of the castle?
Slicked well with rain or blood?
Ask the master's vassal.
His veins have caused a flood...
Well. Is that so? Don't you know?
Steady as we go.
Carrion, feed well each crow!
Falling down, O foe...
Wilting is a part of life?
Dance upon, O strife.
Circumstances, red raw rife.
Krokus, knead the knife.
Thought-spark, ignite in the dark!
Covenant and Ark!
Ocean deep, seen many a shark?
Gloss well thy fair bark...
Silent are the gods of death?
More talkative than some.
Cradle well, O sea of Tethys!
Seth, the storm may come...
Causality chaotic!
Grind them with thy wheel!
Current events make all sick!
Enemy teach to steal!
Feeling well, O Fates a-Three?
Close thy eyes and see.
Doom, bequeath! Most desperately!
Sun god, fortune, fee...
("Creation Myth - Anthropomorphic Nebula Merit Badge” #65, 2016, original oil)
Rumors of War
War, war, rumors of war,
Whispered on the winds
Screamed from the rooftops.
Who does it benefit,
What is it good for?
I can tell you this as someone
Who has known it in a million lifetimes
Hand to hand, across trenches,
Behind ramparts and within
Tanks and Hellfire missiles,
It’s not the soldiers, or generals
Nor even their countries
Who ever come out on top.
It is simply humanity
Willing to sacrifice one band for another
So the germ can spread,
Steeled in conflict, hardened by fire
Purified in the sacrifice
Like a virgin on the crest
Of a mighty pyramid.
And when it comes to us
Where will we be?
Cheering in the crowd
Or running for the hills,
Or perhaps hiding in the sewers
Laying low
Waiting for the perfect shot.
(11/27/24)
I was awed by the noise..As breath indrawn.? Of mighty
Giants in unseen form..' immediatly after grew the
Vivid lemon walls..towering ramparts a firestorm! fissures
Of red, glints of blue..With a marching noise a crecendo
That grew..Then the road before us began to move as
All types of creatures; as if in a torrent flew.' Snakes and goannas rats and mice, wallabys you name it? All in a trice! no
Animal lingered! or fought with another' they were escaping
From the powerfull flames that smotherd..The octane roar drowned
Your senses alright..!! Sugar cane fields ablaze at night.!!
I'll always remember the workers nearby with machtes at their
Smoko's and that lurid sky.'
Will you form with me at the centre.? Any colonials
Good and true..'Will you stand? To confront tyranny?
Here there is a place for you.! all you will need is courage..
And the will to see it through..Will you stand and form
The centre? as they think we still can't do.? Have you seen
Their ramparts cracking? as Hoody drops truth bombs true!
As Jhonny rose to the challenge.' As Riccardo stepped
Up too.' As the cabal is shocked and shaken still i'm
Calling out to you.' As we are waking in the millions! There
Is will and there is right, will you support your neighbour?
Will you; stand up and fight? Will the A D F stand with us.?
Its your people who were hurt, your own fathers mothers
Brothers, they treat your sisters just like dirt.' They built
The concentration camps, and coerced our Aboriginal people
Too.' caring not for any human life, but lied through; their teeth
Right.. through.!
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