An Epic Competition

(Forty-One Against Seven)

…On five, off four, on six, off three - they counted in their heads,
On twelve, off two, on fifteen, off eight counting in the bloodshed.

They’d prepared themselves in the morning,
When the enemy pushed through the door,
But the seven young men without warning,
Would spill the enemy’s blood on the floor.

The anti-gravity chamber doors unlocked,
And in four seconds ten of the men rushed in,
But when the engines whirred the doors locked,
The enemy didn’t know what was happening.

Their feet suddenly came off the ground,
As they saw the seven standing steadily,
They looked puzzled as they flew around,
While swords were unsheathed readily.

The other men were stuck behind the door,
Trying to push through but it was no use,
The magnets were strong and yet even more,
Those inside were up in the air feeling confused.

Then the engines quit and they fell down,
That’s when Elio and Robels drew blood,
Their swords swung so fast all around,
Four of them fell hard with a thud.

One of them fell back blocking the door,
While the others pushed hard to get in,
But the body was heavy on the floor,
As they struggled, the seven were set in.

Marte let an arrow fly from across the room,
Penetrating a tall barbarian on the throat,
But after three seconds the magnets resumed,
And all of their bodies again began to float.

The trickles of blood then started to drift up,
Their eyes rose and that’s when they spotted,
Joven floating down slowly then quickly struck
When the gravity turned on just like he plotted.

Then in three seconds eight more walked through,
But the magnets again locked the others out,
This time the seven began to fly around too,
Confusing the enemy with all kind of doubt.

Lobos counted in his head for twelve seconds,
As the barbarians tried to chase them down,
Suddenly they lost footing then reckoned,
The wolf looking man had not made a sound.

The twelve barbarians landed back on their feet,
Lobos simply stared at them hanging off the wall,
When the gravity came on for a two second repeat,
That’s when Lobos jumped and whistled a call.

Fifteen: suspended in mid-air they looked scared,
Their stomachs turned not knowing what this was,
As Lobos grinned his blade had been prepared,
Forty-one against seven - Lobos liked on the odds.

In those eight seconds when the gravity was on,
Toledo Vale let out huff and swung a heavy chain,
Breaking some ankles and then called upon
Lobos the “wolfman” to deal some real pain.

Lobos ducked as a barbarian swung and missed,
Three of them were converging on the wild man,
But Marte got one as the arrow quickly whizzed,
Just as the Lobos swung and beheaded a man.

One of the barbarians swung back at wolfman,
Striking him on the side and the armor split,
That’s when Simon and Elio quickly began,
To swing at the others and landing some hits.

But the gravity went into zero for five seconds,
As the rest of the barbarians were now inside,
Their feet off the floor now they felt threatened,
When they noticed Joven above in a slow glide.

Off: Some of the landed hard on the metal,
The young men had exactly four seconds to attack,
Marte flew another arrow and hit like the devil,
As Robels struck another Barbarian on the back.

On: Lobos’ blood from his side drifted upward,
A savage was choking him with his bare hands,
Both of their bodies floated feeling awkward,
But that’s when Lobos next assault began.

His daggers pierced the savage right in the neck,
As they landed again back on their feet,
As two more ran up to him but failed to check,
Toledo Vale swung the chain to their defeat.

Off: Joven, the smallest and quickest of them all,
Had severed a savage arm but was now in danger,
As four enemy swords closed on him by the wall,
But Elio was quick to rescue the teenager.

Elio hit one of them just right below the knee,
As an arrow hit another on the back of the head,
One turned around hitting Elio in the teeth,
Joven swung hard and dropped another one dead.

Joven was about to hit by the fourth when he noticed,
Robels threw a dagger hard at the man’s neck,
But the gravity turned off and so then it floated,
Joven began to count in his head for another sec.

The barbarian seeing Joven’s eyes toward his back,
Turned and saw the blade slowly pass him by,
That’s when Joven reached and then whack,
Joven stuck the blade right into the man’s eye.

On: Simon’s sword struck another sword creating a spark,
He was fast but he was about to attacked from behind,
That’s when Marte let an arrow fly hitting his mark,
And Simon’ sharp steel cut through the other’s man spine.

On five, off four, on six, off three - they counted in their heads,
On twelve, off two, on fifteen, off eight fighting without dread.

Elio’s face was now bleeding profusely,
Yet he still fought without any pause or rest,
Robels previously wounded now swung loosely,
Then two barbarians struck him in the chest.

Upon seeing Robels struck and brought down,
Toledo Vale hit one man in the head with the chain,
And as the metal floated into the air with a frown,
He drew his blade with a fury he wouldn’t contain.

Three men charged Toledo Vale suddenly slowed,
Their feet again came off the ground again,
They were beginning to catch on so they strode,
But upon landing Toledo Vale struck all of them.

Four men more men rushed him in a loud clangor,
But Marte’s arrow hit one just below the thigh,
Toledo Vale threw himself on the floor with anger,
Severing one at the knee as the latter let out a cry.

But one struck Toledo Vale on the side of this arm,
The blade stuck into his muscle as he grunted,
Joven’s daggers now flew with panic and alarm,
Catching one of savages now being hunted.

Then they all began to float again blood and all,
Joven was back up on the chains fuming and livid,
As the savages tried to reach him in the squall,
Marte dealt death that was severe and wicked.

When they landed again back on their feet,
Simon so cunning has been so clandestine,
As the men suddenly felt a sudden defeat,
When Simon’s sword spilled their intestines.

But suddenly an arrow struck Simon in the leg,
Their archer had missed from a few feet away,
Marte prayed to his god and quickly begged,
To let this arrow find its mark through the fray.

The arrow flew but floated right before it hit,
The archer caught it bare handed with a tight grip,
Marte smiled as he hovered rising like a spirit,
The archer cut his hand with the poisoned tip.

Two barbarians approached Marte very slowly,
But Marte saw Joven flying gently through the air,
His sword raised above his head brash and boldly,
As the gravity turned on midflight somewhere

Joven’s blade split the barbarian’s head open,
While Marte drove his bow into the other’s gut,
Marte and Joven on eachother’s signals unspoken,
Dismembered the barbarian somewhat.

But one of the biggest who had killed on of them,
Had struck a blade into Lobos stomach as well,
Although Elio had tried he couldn’t drop him,
As the giant looked like something out of hell.

Marte let his last arrow hitting another savage,
Who was about to strike Simon in the back,
Yet Toledo Vale bleeding would still ravage,
Still not down took one more on his attack.

The giant struck Elio on his side piercing him,
Elio drifted away gently into the void of space,
Marte and Joven floated in a graceful swim,
To save their leader who they could not replace.

They caught Elio’s body in the nick of time,
But the wound was deep and he wouldn’t last,
Toledo Vale struck another one in the spine,
And then rushed toward them scared and fast.

Simon cut one severing him at the throat,
But not before he was cut in the abdomen,
And yet as Simon tried to walk he began to float,
Losing count he felt these were his last moments.

The giant barbarian charged the two young men,
Who were trying to save their platoon leader,
Toledo Vale too lost count in all the mayhem,
He looked at them not knowing what to do either.

Lobos still bleeding dragged himself with great strain,
Simon cut in his gut kept pressing to save them,
Toledo Vale wounded again picked up the chain,
As Robels body floated like the other men.

But the biggest Barbarian still stood his ground,
One against five but three of them hurt badly,
He had begun to count as well but in this round,
Joven had another idea that just as madly.

Joven found the count turned to Marte and said,
“Give me a lift” as he ran and jumped into the air,
Marte lifted him and Joven went above the giant’s head,
Just as Toledo Vale swung the chain with flair.

But the giant caught the chain slowly in mid-air,
As Lobos and Simon charged him to strike him down,
The giant now knew the counts and struck the pair,
Their swords were no match to his ax pound for pound.

Marte approached him to cut him with his blades,
The giant released the chain and punched him the face,
Then he took the heavy ax to put them in their graves,
But Toledo Vale struck in the spine with a deadly pace.

Yet the giant would not fall, he still stood tall,
As all their bodies again began to float,
His giant hands clutched at Toledo Vale in the thrall,
His fingers trying to press at his throat.

Simon then drifted to him to try push the sword,
As the ax now began to fall on to the floor,
Lobos took his blade and without a single word,
Drove into his belly for more blood to pour.

Then they landed back, all four on their feet,
The giant still standing grabbed Simon by his hair,
Lobos tried to tackle him to get him off his feet,
But the giant was on some drug with a demon glare.

Marte then charged him and cut him at the knees,
That’s when all five landed with a massive thud,
Then they removed their blades to be at ease,
As all their bodies were covered in crimson blood.

The giant was still breathing with a furious seething,
As his body again began to float off the ground,
His eyes wide on whatever drug he’d been receiving,
Was still trying to rise and would still not calm down.

But then he looked up and saw Joven in the air,
He was hanging from the ceiling like a crow,
Joven has been counting somewhere up there,
Dangling, waiting, ready to strike to final blow.

Joven fell through the air gently like a feather,
The blade over his head shined in the light,
As the gravity turned on under the pressure,
Joven fell six feet striking with a cruel spike.

The sword pierced the giant right through the heart,
Driving the blade deep in the chest up to the hilt,
Joven’s body falling hard had hit his last mark,
They’d kill forty-one men without doubt or guilt.

They were all bloodied, tired and in great pain,
One dead, one dying and the rest cut to shreds,
But they had survived, the enemy had been slain,
Forty-one each of them counted in their heads.

"I am not so much footloose as foot loss"

"learning to drive my wheelchair was an awesome feat"

"When trying something new I always like to dip my toe in the water"

"I have a new career path with NATO (Nae Toe)"

"I always put my best foot forward"

"I always stand up for myself"

"I have difficulty putting my good foot in your ass, but I can still punch and choke you"

"I save a fortune on shoes and slippers"

"You can't walk a mile in my shoes, just as I can't in yours"

"Standing tall, I still can't change a light bulb"

"I can do the Hockey Cockey"

"Politically I have my feet on the ground"

"My Boots were not made for walking"

"I don't have any stocking fillers"

"I never put my foot in my mouth"

"I can trip over my tongue but not over my clumsy feet"

"I am unable to tiptoe even when necessary"

"I am constantly barefoot or is it foot bear"

"It is pointless for you to lay anything at my feet"

"In an argument, I can still stand firm"

"It is only my nose that runs"

"Despite being a keen gardener I don't have my feel well-planted"

"I am always stumped"

"I can play footsie with my hands"

"I am immortal as I can not kick the bucket"

"The only thing under my feet is fresh air"

"like the early Daleks, I don't do stairs"

"Can not tread on an aunt"

"I can't' just step out"

"My stumps are less than 12 inches because that would be afoot"

"I have been accused of being as thick as a stump"

"I can get legless without alcohol"

"I will never again be a dead man walking"

"Nowhere is now in walking distance"

"I want to be a stand up comic"

"Cant be a footballer"

"Can't kick a drop goal"

"I can't be a stalker and follow on foot"

"I can't do a nature walk"

"I can't stumble or trip"

"It's hard to trip the light fantastic"

"Can't walk down the right path, but then I can't walk down the wrong one"

"I can't do anything on foot"

"I am unable to tap dance"

"I am unable to tie my own shoes"

"My shoes are useless for discerning feet"

"If the shoe fits I will be shocked"

"I am a kickboxing fan, not a participant"

"As an investigator, I would be unsuccessful in tracking a bigfoot"

"But if I am being tacked I don't leave footprints in the snow to follow"

"I am allergic to Dance Studios"

"I can't hop it"

"My Brains are not in my feet"

"The last dance I did was 9 years ago"

"When I do the twist it's never an ankle
 When I do the polka I wear a yellow bikini
 when I do the quickstep it's in slow motion
 When I do the mashed potato it involves eating
 When I do the tango its an orange fizzy drink
 When I do the cakewalk, it is always a chocolate one
 When I do the can-can I really do the can't-can't
 Cant do the Charleston without a name change
 Cant do the Conga without a visit to Africa
 Cant Jive unless its by mouth
 Cant mambo without a black snake
 Cant do a salsa I don't like Mexican food
 Cant do the Stomp but can do the stump
 Cant do the two-step, can't even do one"

"I can't go one step beyond"

"There are three steps to heaven, look like I am not going"

"A journey begins with my batteries charged"

"As an actor, I could never 'break a leg'"

"I can't give someone a good kicking"

I can't climb the stairs to bed"

"I only get ladders on my pantyhose"

"If you harass me I will take steps"

"I can't jump, but I can toss"

"My footsteps are non-existent but my thoughts are many"

"Logic and reason prevent me from a step of faith"

"I should be on castors, Oh wait I really am"

"I am not one for treading carefully"

"I am invincible, cant tread on a mine"

"Regardless of feet, I can still walk away"

"Standing tall before the man does not require feet"
 

I.        
          
Lay it Down          
         
Warrior—the weight          
  of that  sword and shield;          
         
don't you find them heavy—          
particularly when no battle is raging          
despite what personal perception reveals;          
  or, how the veins in your wrists          
  throb from your mind’s eye          
  under the scars          
of self-inflicted wounds            
         
Release it          
         
Warrior—          
  that self-appointed penance of past;          
         
the burden is back-bending—          
its weight a fungi swelling against          
  your blood's          
  production of cells—          
masticating body and spirit          
  into a fatal disease of existence            
         
Surrender          
         
Warrior—          
  that rusted armour of doubt          
         
What inevitable war do you envision          
prompting it be worn each moment—          
  preventing communion with peace          
  among those sharing your space;          
what threat do you possibly perceive          
  warranting defensive measures          
versus live and let live          
         
II.          
         
Coats of Many Arms          
         
mask our feral nature;          
  but, we all have the same menu          
  from a numbered buffet of choices—          
         
some of the poorest in material cloth          
  seem the most content in living;          
         
patches they've stitched are gratitude—          
  things that can never be taken away          
only relinquished through death;          
  even then, there is no separation          
  just a return to our genetic composition          
of Love          
         
Others with cashmere or silk lapels          
appear miserable, grasping            
  onto what cannot be owned          
  for fear of falling, exposed          
  from their castle of clouds—          
a self-made Icarus, plummeting          
  naked in broad daylight;          
their mask exposed              
         
III.          
         
How do we become          
  what we are not          
         
and so easily forget          
  our spirit's purpose—          
all the peace and acceptance          
  we are born with, just waiting          
  to be resuscitated—          
  rise from their bitter grave of flesh          
         
How do we become so afraid          
  to love, and be loved in return—          
opening ourselves fully          
to commitment, security          
  without thought of losing control          
  over what was never ours          
  to own—or measuring ourselves          
against our neighbor's          
  accomplishments, looks, possessions          
         
What is the triggered-curse          
  of consumerism—to have, to be, to want;          
and, the secret to break its code          
  for future generations—          
how do we unwind what cruelty          
  crocheted into the womb of society          
         
IV.          
         
Sand falls through our hourglass—          
  a childhood playground          
  where parents sit in the outer circle          
while children of all creeds and colors          
  play openly together          
         
What was there to distrust back then;          
  or, evil so apparent          
  it had to be avoided at all costs—          
including genuine friendship;          
  how do we become separate          
  from everyone else . . .          
         
What gravity of race or creed          
  differing from our own          
  are we supposed to hate—          
initiate evasive maneuvers          
  or worse—allow jealousy          
  to overcome our purpose;          
         
thus, plot to tear asunder          
  through intents so malicious          
 it drives many to suicide          
           
V.          
         
Hating has become a societal norm—          
  the roller-coaster of news          
  a daily disaster—          
the wild ride anything but fun          
         
Politicians symbolize public distrust;          
but, we fuel hate by legitimizing attacks          
  through our divisive behavior;          
we use our intellect not for good          
  but to prove each other wrong—          
those who think differently          
automatically become our enemies          
         
Life becomes a survival strategy          
of forming factions—          
  separating friends from foes          
  rather than enjoying          
  what it offers together:          
         
Iron sharpening Iron—            
  the contrast of undesired          
 honing who we are            
         
VI.          
         
Can we unravel the cassette          
of pain entwined around each person          
   filled with resentment toward life—          
   the taut bondage binding hope          
   from happiness buried so deep          
Yet, waiting to reemerge            
         
How much of ourselves          
  are we willing to sacrifice          
for another human being—          
  our lives, perhaps;          
is this the true parable          
  of the crucifixion:            
         
the weight of what we offer another          
  measured in increments          
from our own painful experience—          
  yet, painful triggers offset          
  our good intentions—          
  and we pause in our work;          
         
going only as far as our own          
  bruises carry us, ceasing inside the hurt          
before fully abandoning our task          
         
VII.          
         
Hatred is a software update—          
  it comes by default;          
but, you can fully reject it;            
         
it stems from the dirt            
  of each person believing          
  their own ideology is truth;          
         
they reject ethnicity because              
  their own kind are superior;          
they detest an opinion because          
  they personally know better          
            
However, personal perception          
  is not a universal truth;          
we are blinded by our beliefs          
  in ignorance—          
            
that alone is why we hate          
         
But, inherent goodness—          
  as difficult as it may be to digest          
  is our true human essence            
         
VIII.          
         
Oftentimes hatred is personal—          
  a social game where people recruit          
  others to hate based on rumours          
versus personal experiences;          
  enter hierarchies and cliques          
         
Manipulators, leaders, and politicians          
know how to play mob mentality—          
  in biblical days they riled up women          
  to unite enemies for a cause—          
much hasn't changed in that respect          
         
Having a common enemy          
is how hatred evolves—          
   ‘them’ versus ‘us’          
    because we’ve been taught          
    attacking first is the way to survive          
         
This is how people hate:          
         
  they believe destroying someone else’s          
  reputation first will elevate their own;          
         
however, three things          
  cannot be long hidden:          
  the sun, the moon, and the truth        
         
IX.          
         
Knowledge is power—          
   the key to defeating hate;          
recognition is the lock          
         
We are all kindred—          
  of African descent          
we share the gene pool          
  of Homo sapien origin          
         
There is no 'us' or 'them';          
  there is only one 'we'—          
   a human species          
attempting to escape our planet          
  rather than rebalance—          
         
reverse injustice toward Earth—          
the preference for profit over life          
         
X.        
   
Ego is a death-trap  
  we all learn to escape—   
often times the hard way     
         
So, before it's too late  
  and this life is gone—
  lay it down          
         
Warrior—the weight            
  of that sword and shield          
  you needlessly wield;          
pick up a mirror instead—          
         
because the only righteous hatred          
   you should rage against—          
   the only war that truly exists          
is the ignorance within yourself          
         
The only coat of arms you own          
  should be hanging on your wall—          
not as a battle call, but reminder          
  of how far we've evolved          
     
Release it          
         
Warrior—          
  the jabs you take      
  merely boomerang;
haven't you learned that yet       
         
Surrender          
         
Warrior—let it go          
           
Propio vos sanguine pasco—          
  I feed you with kindred blood          
~