Stupid is to sunlight, blinded by the moon Ugly is to black light, shining in the room So true the lies, told unto you For truth is false, believed by you Society, without a clue Wrote lies and truths, hist'ry too Written by the victors, books so great and new True is made to false, truths we know too few
Brave are all these spears as they form lines and rows of walls, as shields all laugh and cry as arrows bleed their very souls. None, I say, shall ever beat these swords made by hearts of gold, though not a blade, nor shield, not plate, has ever bled men bold.
So far, they march, these slippers, boots, and all these hooves, into a land whose tears fill not, those cups of kings removes. So now once more, two tyrants march, where dogs and mammoths dwell, where swords will bleed, where shields will sing, all glory that of hell.
I closed my eyes, so sore, so red, from days long list of works, once opened now the walls have gone, all corners turned to dirt. I craved for this, a scene of war, of Greeks and that of Turks, where blades and spears, meet bones and ribs, leave not a man unhurt.
I laughed and cried, before me died, a Greek so known to time, a son they say, great Herculae, the lions roar with pride. Before me lay, a lifeless king, Leonidas at his prime, these men who lay, beside the bay, all heroes thus I cried.
Your month, dear cupid, 'tis here at last, a month of hunger, and that of lust. For such a month brought me to earth, a month of treats, my time of birth. So now I would, as men would do, define an act few men cling to. For love be that of sex, desire, for love be that of smiles bizarre. Hear me men, love not, these things, nor be it those by kids with wings. For love, dear men, I say to you, is every breath I live for You. I care not what, men now will say, so long my God, I'm here to stay.
The birds fled the plains as fast as raindrops came, upon the ruby crops that moonlight hid from scarecrows lame. 'Tis what they feared, of those whose hearts burn bright in black, when flies all feast 'fore Sol once more will sleep and Luna's back. The scarecrow tilts his head against the flies and the crow, the ruby crops all faint so slow as red turns black then now 'comes snow.
At Luna's peak these crops seemed known to none but one, a poor young lad whose mute as the fields and grim as the crops. Then those who came from the day's dying sun arrived...
True has it been for time so long All days that passed made troubles gone The fear you feel dear Shadowsong Will haunt thee down bring me along For all I'll do, support thy cause I care not now my fear for claws Scars they left long time ago Endured and stay for me to woe Myslef once weak now strong as snow Against the old and dying crow I know not well the summer sun I bid him well, please save my son I care not now my life be gone So long my son be safe have fun
I've written this poem from way back. Posted this in blogger and...