Stalingrad II
Let fortitude confront the raging beast
for wolfen corps from Hell have entered in.
They surge in packs, savagely unleashed,
to mutilate the innocence within.
Let ev’ry child and mother of its name
be fodder for this apathetic rage.
Let death be death for blood spills all the same
when cannon fire and mortal flesh engage.
But nay a soul recedes from Hell’s assail
nor hunkers ‘neath the clouds of fire they bring.
All rose as one to rage against the rail
to let their swords of retribution swing.
When dominance is seeking to divest,
let confidence defeat the evil quest.
Let confidence defeat the evil quest
oh Stalingrad, for hell hath come inside.
It seeks your soul and never will it rest
and, nowhere in this city can you hide.
It hunts with purpose, ferreting its prey
from evr’y chasm, cleft and corridor.
It stalks in stealth amongst the disarray
to silence hearts, all while keeping score.
But still you rally ‘neath the rubbled earth
and muster deep within its steel demise.
You prowl the caverns of its septic dearth
and never let the Devil hear your cries.
Your courage and resiliency increased
as Axis power struggles in the east.
As Axis power struggles in the east,
a river feeds the fortitude within.
It stills the pangs that face aggression’s beast
as frigid days of winter’s wrath begin.
It fuels the fires that forge the armored steel
to breach his grip and front his iron rage.
It flows in silence, never to reveal
the consequence preparing to engage.
Though Rasputista bogged the iron corps
his arrogance would bid them no retreat.
A sane request this Devil would ignore
to force his front to face the winter’s heat.
As vagaries traverse the river’s tide,
‘tis hate that stalls this beast of fatal pride.
‘Tis hate that stalls this beast of fatal pride
in stagnant squaller, ceding not an inch.
They stalk in hush, amidst the genocide,
preparing for their enemies to flinch.
They prowl in silence, o’er the seared remains
then lie in wait for vantage to impart.
A trigger twitch releases the disdain
that pierces flesh and ends a beating heart.
Though death consumes the occupants within
as cannons blaze and barrels spit their fire,
‘tis but a breath compared to winter’s wind
and nothing will defy its pending ire.
The winter’s wrath shall chill the raging heat
intent to steal all freedoms through conceit.
Intent, to steal all freedoms through conceit,
has faltered ‘neath the frozen Russian ire.
Your faith has held, conceding no retreat
as Fall Blau sank into the winter’s mire.
Stagnation’s stall has settled in their bones
of all that dared to front this frigid spurn.
And, now the seeds of hunger have been sown
as legions wither ‘neath the season’s turn.
Though angel wings had taken to the skies
no prayers ascended through the clouds so drear.
In languished want they huddled ‘neath demise,
hoping for the shrouds of dread to clear.
An impetus of dominance has died.
Your doggedness left arrogance denied.
Copyright ©
Mark Massey
|