This place, less stable than an earthquake
Leaders laugh at struggles, sipping dark red Sicilian
"Where's our newest martyr going?"
Because dead kids don't talk back
But little do they know, he's slipping out
Dug a hole in his cell like he's in Alcatraz
He writes me thoughtful letters, sealed with kisses
Blood of a warlord, said his grandfather's name is known
He thinks I don't remember poor sweet Giorgio
But that's fine, I suppose, he's only looking out for me
I'll sit beside him on the leather throne one day
But dead kids can't tell stories, can they?
So, he's been staying extra hidden
That way when the guards look over their shoulders
They see nothing more than a cloud of movement
Blocks their vision better than tear gas
God, his grandkid's a genius of a young man
They used to sing about half-hanged Giorgio
Now his family, they're dancing in the limelight
Cherishing those exotic genes, perfect for heroes
Condemned to fates worse than eternal torture
Now, as we escape into the starry sky
And I lean in to kiss him
Giorgio, you've got quite the grandson
Massimo, the love of my horrid life
Grown up gaunt and ghostly?
Forlorn, forgotten, few.
Holy is the host? Well, see...
Day of wrath, thy dew.
Warlord, hold the highest ground?
Strongest in the sound!
Giant, issue from thy mound!
Blight them with thy bound!
Tyrant of the battlefield?
Come back on thy shield?
Only if the wound's unhealed!
Thunder, how you pealed!
Mercy? Full the harvest moon!
Tympani, thy tune!
Rampart castle, cast the rune!
Bane, bone, bind the boon!
Epic end to story?
O human race, take heed:
Morning, hast thou glory?
Prisoner doomed, just plead...
Bad? Give over what you had?
Storm gods, send thy cloud!
Make the devil mighty glad!
Burial, thy shroud...
Exactly who is strongest?
As above, so below.
Which, pray tell, did the gods best?
Spring, sprig mistletoe...
'Under heaven' read the sign.
Only one could tell!
Fancifully or by design?
Witches, cast thy spell!
Roundabout the ruddy run?
Has twilight begun?
Forlorn yet still having fun?
Midnight before one!
Warlord of the ages?
O conquerors, take heed:
Serene, are ye, sages?
Draw bead, O my greed!
Plead? To who? Doth ye bleed blue?
Hope, need ye accrue?
O for hearts a-torn in two!
Mistakes, need we rue?
Crew of skeletons at work?
How then best to shirk?
Daring devils, draw thy dirk!
Who's the master, jerk?
Psychology, operate!
Target, O my hate!
Grown up, ghast, upon the great?
Limestone, set thy date!
Fate, thy fortune. Soaked like wood.
Down the sea-cliff fall.
Concepts like the idea 'good'!
Brood of big and small!
Should? O for us, to the last!
Hanged from every mast!
Alabaster, set in plast!
Machine, get first fast...
The wild wind plays its part.
Orchids on my Lord's yard
Blown and thrown apart.
They were meant to fall?
Before coming of age?
The suspects were to be summoned at once.
"No such intentions I carry, oh Lord...."
Wild wind presents, an alibi persuading.
"I was hurled by these towering trees."
The court, bewildered.
Yet, advocated his statement.
"It was not just me, a whole bunch of us.
I? Merely a pawn swayed by an arrogant king, Sire?
I take no part in this massacre...."
Not even a warlord made my king sweat.
Apprehension of injustice it is.
Suppressing the murmurs, my King speaks.
"Oh mighty wind, brutal nature force,
Why assist destruction of the old man's blossom?
Tell me, oh lofty tree.
You bear children of your own,
Why kill mine? "
"Why flowers bloom?
When destined to wither only.
We relish and embrace them,
Refer- beauty, innocence and sanctity.
Why gather them here?
A corpse lying on a pyre...."
In the shadow of the night, a woman stands,
Her eyes, as chilly as the winter's winds,
Her hand raised high, a sword in her hand,
Her face, a mask of pure malice.
She towers over a man, his body on a bed,
A red river flowing out of his neck,
He struggles in desperation, trying to save himself,
A killing slice, one filled with hatred.
But there is more to this scene than meets the eye,
The man she has slain is no ordinary foe,
He is Holofernes, the leader of the Assyrians,
A warlord known for his savagery and vileness.
And the woman, grasping the blade,
Is Judith, a widow, a young survivor,
And she shall not rest until he is dead,
For he has brought only suffering to her and her land.
The heir to Jotunheim
A prince orphaned to war,
He grew up a brother to Thor
In the divine halls of Asgard.
The God of Mischief, he is called
True to his cunning and charm
He keeps daggers up his arm
You never know what scheme he is on.
He was not fond of Odin
But he deeply loved his mother
He learned his wily tricks from her,
Frigga raised him as her son.
But, in spite of his malevolent plots,
He did things we should reward
Like when he helped in saving Asgard
And he died by the hands
of the Titanian warlord.
22nd March 2023
Contest: Marvel Superheroes Supervillains and Superanimals Contest
Sponsor: Robert James Ligouri
I kiss your risks
Cheerfully without singled
One out in asterisk
As we romantically mingled
I play your ball
Joyfully on an away pitch
Yet, you never reject any of my calls
Or dramatically snub me for the rich.
I fly your flight
Emotionally without copilot
Despite the watcher's awful fright
Quietly watching to act like Pilate
Pure happiness rents my cheek
Whenever you come around
Bathing in your graceful creek
To energize the pale smiles joy abounds
The password I decode
Remains unexplored
Till morrow outmode
My ever gallant warlord
Truly, love changed me
Trying out the best logic
Tracking details about our wee
Most of which are on academic
My attitudes are dying
Of thy presence in loneliness
Your gratitude are spying
My fortitude in weariness
Master of my mind
Your absence gets it blind
As the queen of your heart
This poem pens you an everlasting art
Libertas in the hands of warlords,
natural hardship, in the name of war,
License to kill.
For those who can gain lots,
obtained legislative favor,
overall pattern of bill.
Even rogue army cords.
In the end of guns gore,
Bloody warheads refill.
*Fall.*
Oh! You law, you've
promised not spare
non irrespective of
class or tribes
On your vow we count,
and we'd never
pictured you as
chameleon; until your
yellow turns to white
color
You're deduce from
nature, and you
supposed
to be scary as lion
To upper class you
turns sheep, for lower
class you're wolf
You prey on us as
pest prey on crops
Your blind eyes is
open to their acts
On us you became
warlord as our bloods
alone stained your sword;
your open arms embrace
their flaws
Mother of nation fall,
as you've pivotal Rich's
than Poor's; let get back
to renaissance period.
*ILORI .M. OLUWATOSIN*
_©TheGentleInnocentSoul._
The blazing warlord in rage
Stares upon the face of the earth
The uneasy earth in haste
Emits glazy smokes trapped underground
To take some fresh air
Cool breeze blows gently by
Tired trees wave for joy
Rustling in praise and delight
The idle cloud is busy traversing the sky
Wrapping the whole earth in a moment
Into a horrible darkness
Gentle breeze changes over to rainstorm
The flood overwhelm the gutters
Flashing lightning and rumbling
The storm soon shed some strength
Handing over to a gentle misty breeze
The cloud is cleared
I see some paintings of God
In the sky of a scanty cloud
That shows afterwards
In another narcoleptic nightmare,
along crepuscular curbs
I am endlessly stalked by the depraved.
Their railing against conspiring contrivances.
These gaslighting doctors of spin.
On every corner a barking Icke or Alex Jones,
On every path a fear-mongering Judy Mikovits.
Get hip to all the globalist conspiracies,
Look smart, as all the word-crafters think for you!
Submit, as all the witchcrafters take from you!
These gaslighting doctors of spin.
Everywhere the nebulous deep state threat!
Don’t you know?
OAN told me so,
and Fox News provided the echo.
Co-conspirators of conspiracy conspiring,
Their shrieking against baleful bogeys,
Their immolation of fading truths.
These gaslighting doctors of spin.
Warlord POTUS, a Stalin, and Hitler disciple.
“Truth isn’t truth,” Rudy told us, after all.
The best control of the masses:
choke all channels
with conspiring conspiracy cocktails,
these gaslighting doctors of spin.
As warlord of the ticking count…
time marches uncontested
Avoiding every scrutiny,
defending every lie
All seasons caught within its grasp,
each day a slave in training
Order becoming disorder again
—complexity denied
(Villanova Pennsylvania: May, 2019)
Brave Samurai Knight
your Warlord, Itso, waits you.
Your ancestors cry
out for revenge against Mau.
Defend your family's
honor for all weep at what
Mau has done to our
land making us his servants.
Take your sword now knight
and avenge your father' name.
Your grandfather waits
in his grave to see you fight
and restore his house
to its former place of pride.
Itso waits for you.
Knight, this thing you need to do!
It was terrible, and then it stopped;
A thunderous downpour of rain.
As though a hammer had been dropped,
The sky lashed out in pain!
A thunderous downpour of rain,
A bolt of lightning pierced the air,
The sky lashed out in pain
And left the warlord lying there.
A bolt of lightning pierced the air.
It dealt our champion sudden death
And left the warlord lying there
Gasping for his final breath.
It dealt our champion sudden death
As though a hammer had been dropped.
Gasping for his final breath;
It was terrible. And then it stopped!
Pantoum Form
For the “AND THEN IT STOPPED” contest
Sponsored by John Lawless
July 5, 2017
5/19/17
Things considered occult
Near and far from kids, teens and adults
Working with mulch
Above a gulch
Had to turn into the Hulk
And catapult
Toward successful results
Then howl at the moon like a wolf
While in and out of gulfs
No good in being in poor form
Or disordered
Got to keep pushing forward
Above and below floorboards
Considered that there will always be more storms
Whether or not it is cold or warm
I just can't spend time in forlorn
Got to take care of business, night or morn
Ready to fight for what I believe is right, with the skills of a warlord
Regardless of if it is what I was born for
Close and beyond traces of lanthanum
I'm coming through with an effective stratagem
Show you something truly masculine
Going full throttle pushing to the maximum
Among pathogens
And antigens
As well as vehicles with headlights that are halogen
When I see an animal or human struggling, I'll lend a hand and not abandon them
By: Dalton Ogletree
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