Those who do not fight
make a mockery
of victory.
Those who conceal
their true nature
stalk amongst the flock
to take the young.
Beholding such bright crimson,
the dull commuter
seeks a truant guard.
A vain dissuader,
where from the truest form
of vengeance comes.
Found in vast halls
with the chanting multiples,
duplicitous in their means
and deviant in their mindset.
They sit astride
the fat bull of Concourse,
and all things flow through them,
even blood and fire.
Lost in the euphoria of the melancholic,
is the sound
of stone silence
and iron will.
It waits,
for there is no bile to drive it,
but only the white-hot furnace
from which all these things
are forged.
It is better if the game is played
under an open sky,
with all run wild,
but the bitter call
of loathsome crapulence
finds its way,
even into paradise.
Speak words
that build up your brother;
if this is not so,
then speak not at all.
When you let them tell you
who you are
and who they are;
you’ve been recruited.
So, now we go to war.
Banners high
and in the dawn
the hammer falls,
shattering the shield
that defended us all.
HG -2019
