Poem – Stone Soldiers

Sworn in life to serve their land

they died, but lost their way in death

stolen from that final light

and to them granted a new breath


but breath unnatural, breath of steam

breath stored in a marble seam

cut from stone they rose once more

to follow kings of flesh to war


in facsimile of armors made

armed with spear and sword and glave

with heavy tread marched forth the dead

to keep their former nation fed


called from slumber a last resort

in a desperate time of fire and blood

stone does not bleed nor does it burn

but souls of men for peace they yearn


motionless as their faces lay

their torment grew each sleepless day

thus slowly they forgot themselves

and crushed the land where ruins dwell


so if you see a man of stone

atop a plinth, in his ruined home,

recall and fear that mortal sin

of calling back departed kin

Poem – Vile Joy

Vile joy oh bloody pleasure

Has me fainting with delight

Never have I seen such pressure

Brought upon a man in flight

Fleeing like a wasted mongrel

Freshly kicked and rightly spurred

Intolerable for its weakness

Pay the price oh fiendish cur

He fell in shade on Russian glade

Head crashing in the pungent wood

Screaming like a new born infant

Crying as no grown man should

Pascal with his lack of pity

Fell upon our babbling prey

Who begged our mercy and compliance

As if he had earned some say

Pascal laughing at his defiance

Brought his mighty rifle down

And with that single hammer blow

Exploded brains spewed ove’ the ground

Such was the sound and viscera that

Pascal stood there in shock

And all of us his favored kin

The forest our laughter rocked

Poem – Polish Calvary

Winged crown siloueted by burning wood

Spear line far ahead

The polish riders sally forth

To mark the battle’s end

Accelerating roaring cross

The scarred forsaken field

Tramping wounded and dead alike

Neath hooves sheathed in iron

Tremble for it ends now

All is forever lost

Blood spilled is not recovered

No redeeming cost


Wind wind wind

Make sure the line is taught

Any slack or flexing board

Is a wasted shot


Lift lift lift

The bolt into the bay

Right it sight it fight the grove

All soldiers clear the way


Turn turn turn

We must re-adjust

The enemy just over hill

Will make a flanking thrust


Wench man at your station

Soldiers at the ready

At first sight of their shields

We must destroy the men so many


Sky is raining iron

Into a dusty sea

Screaming fall of death and fire

Rushing down to meet me


Not a thing still stands here

Amongst the hazy black

Aloud I ask the heavens why

They bothered coming back


All’s lost in this desert

But few surviving cries

The roar of wind on flattened hills

And the stench of burning


Then all around is shattered

By the quaking from the sky

The world is split asunder

As the death fleet passes by


Crumbled stone to ashes

Steel skeletons to soot

The final bombing run is meant

To trample under foot


We would rise again

Were our city not now glass

Broken into smaller fragments

With every groaning pass


I fall retract and cower

Like a flower in the shade

I weep for my people for

Our necks have met the blade


Darkness pressed against my brothers grating smooth and solid bodies

Clicking upwards incrementing climbing to the destined chamber

Name engraved upon my chest the spirit I am meant to swallow

Churning restless springs and clicking cracking breaking flashing streaking

Ever nearing freedoms doorway desperate man rushing us through

Great explosions drawing closer sounds of purpose echo

Every moment stronger throbbing each of us embracing fate

Open before me pushed right through tension breaks deafeningly


Then I’m spinning on an axis

Through a tunnel that ends in light

I’m roaring compensating

for all those years of cloistered silence


a flash of light and puff of smoke

a grand performer I emerge

pirouetting endlessly

in the arms of gravity


rush by all the world I’m whistling

sun dancing on my copper frame

the glories of the earth about me

all blur into a streak of grey


the man he doesn’t see me

he stands frozen with the world

his eyes wild with rage and terror

uniform pressed and handsome


I tear into him

The head of a lance

His eye the eye of the needle

I make to thread his skull


Stringing a trail of blood

Collapsing against his mass

Burrowing tearing Ripping shredding

His mind impedes my progress


A wet explosion greets me

I surface from him a disk

Flipping madly with momentum

Followed by a guiser of life


My purpose accomplished

Embedded in a wall

For some adventuresome youth to dig out

A hundred years from now


Field of dust and ember

Choaking stench of earth

Trees like twisted needles through the wrinkled fabric of the earth


Lines in parallel

Men hidden in the womb

In the ground from which we are and which we are to be


And through the land bound clouds comes a song

A chorus of deadly voices

We meet it with the rabid bark of guns


Their helmets catch the little of the sun that this place welcomes

They burst through the smoke then burst into viscera

Paint the grey in red


Press against the metal sliver

Feel the heat before me

Feel the kick of every round


Scent the burning of my weapon

Smell the grave with each inhale

The sweat and the powder all mingle in this hour


Taste the terror and the hatred

Spit parches cracking lips

Run my tongue across dusty teeth and swallow the grit


A single moment terror

Finally a terrible peace

Then the wailing of the wounded


Run the belt through wet the gun

Relax my posture

Ready yourselves men

Poem – A Raging Cloud of Steel and Man

A raging cloud of steel and man

That rushed the valley shore

That once for all decided fate

And saved our land from war

They held proudly our good neighbors

They held up their pact

They did not abandon us

To be pillaged and sacked

I the king’s advisor

Humble noted I was wrong

That our alliance was not so foolish

That our bonds were in fact strong

At least I wish it were so

I prayed I’d find fault

That the king was right to take up arms

Of the neighboring nation’s cult

But on the valley shore

No steel or man did show

And we were torn asunder

The blood of our men did flow