|
| |
Barbarossa I
When giants hide their heads beneath the sand,
the body lies unshielded from the Sun.
‘Tis but a hedge to seemingly withstand
the winds of war that nothing will out run.
‘Tis opportune for those that seek to rise
and conquer all they deem a nether race.
‘Tis favorable when giants hide their eyes
and leave them for the despots to erase.
‘Twas mere deception severing a pact
to seize her soil for Germany’s expanse.
‘Twould be a choice that Satan would enact
while all the world sits by to watch the dance.
‘Tis but a feast when all the world stands still.
His iron wolves consume their prey at will.
His iron wolves consume their prey at will
as rapture races o’er the Slavic plain.
It ravages with emphasis to kill,
and only ash and skeletons remain.
It roars with bluster rendering its wrath
by crucifying all that dare defy,
then marches on thus, leaving in its path
a emptiness with nothing more to die.
Though swift afoot may prove a tepid flaw
for such a beast must keep its belly filled.
And as it roars, its motive must withdraw
its sustenance from what its victims yield.
The winds of Hell have blown across the land
and in response the world cannot withstand.
And in response, the world cannot withstand
a beast from hell that rides a scarlet horse.
His swift assault has scarred the fertile land
and crushed the farms and towns without remorse.
The innocent were fodder for a hunt
that surged with the velocity of light.
‘Twas but a flash that nothing could confront
for any stance was crushed beneath its might.
Though Hell commenced to rape her country side,
the mighty bear refused to yield its heart,
for Russian grit was not to be denied
and never would its will to win depart.
The devil’s iron brigades unleashed at will
the fear and devastation they instill.
The fear and devastation they instill
went far beyond what satisfied his taste.
Malevolence would gluttonize until
all that stood before was laid to waste.
For all that yield the Devil would enslave
and all that stood opposed he vowed to crush.
Complete destruction satisfied his crave
for mercy was a hindrance in the rush.
A trident fork, atop an iron lance,
was lunged to disembowel the Russian will.
Its deadly bards encircled the expanse
to trap the Bear and expedite the kill.
Though victory was never absolute,
his frenzied packs were ceaseless in pursuit.
His frenzied packs were ceaseless in pursuit
of any source that fed the mighty Bear.
Their masterminds conceived a trident route
to spear the beast and slay it in its lair.
A single barb would lunge into its chest,
another sought to pierce St. Peter’s brow.
The final barb would spear the Crimson crest
as Satan’s lance commenced to disembowel.
But vengeance waits as vines of armor pleach
to prowl upon this giant in disguise.
‘Twould be a trap that tempts the devil’s reach
as zealous arrogance pursues demise.
His iron wolves provoke a vicious beast
as Barbarossa roars into the East.
Copyright ©
Mark Massey
|
|