deepundergroundpoetry.com
Leviathan: deadwolf
My name is deadwolf, this is part of my records;
After an age, and a times and a times in a half,
That what came before, has become once again,
Children of the light of the westerning sun, and from the verses of lesser light
From a tower of stone, at vanishing point
We watched, and recorded all of mans will, words and actions,
To watch, to gather and to store great amounts of data, knowledge and information’s,
and to guard the sacred stones,
The Onyx Stone still proved to be in the land,
Along where the four great rivers split,
Stolen in the darkness, we can feel its energies being used,
We finally ride,
Finally, after so many times past,
TO either settle the darkness once more to bright light,
Or to keep it dark,
Even I know not which we will choose to do;
```~~~..~~```
As I sit upon the stone of fate,
Contemplating things small and great,
As a part of the Westerning Sun, back facing East,
The sword coasts rugged beauty,
Along the shore line,
A Child of times, in its own kind of light,
Once more again, with wind in my face
Once more again;
```~~~.~~~```
My arrows are sharp, able to bend and ride with the wind,
They fly true, and penetrate with a smooth jagged edge,
My swords are double edged; one swings wide, and clears a path
The other one, perfected for close quarter fighting
when there is need to see in another’s eye,
And My Axe, DESTRUCTION AND PAIN
Devastator can cut through the dark horde, or pierce through the magik of light
Thunderclap, The War hammer, a poundin wave of pure strength,
Swung, from the fierceness of a warriors heart, and strong steady hands,
It opens up a way, when the will falters, or the mountain passes collapse
`~.Poison, An Assassins Creed. ~`
Perfected and steeped upon each weapon and sheath,
Weapons,
Each weapon, an exact extension of me,
and I love each as a child;
```~~~.~~~```
With age, at times, my eyes have faltered,
And missed their mark
The hands have loosed grip, and they have slipped,
Drink has taken some of the dexterity and precision oft times,
When arrow misses target,
When sword deflects off of blocked or missed swings,
But, my true strength, aint all about precision, weapon, poison, or machine
Its my ability to heal, get up and fight through the pain and all fears,
Stubborn as an Ass,
I-DO-NOT-YIELD…
I can’t,
Livin through the pain, its what I do,
Its how I can still carry my name,
As a child of times,
As do all of the company of the Westernin Sun,
An keep my head up
Livin through the pain and betrayals, outnumbered by dark fears
By dark fears of the sins of my past,
My past; They will one day claim me, and carry me off,
But not today,
Not today,
Today, I still heartbeat and breathe,
With groans, an near death moans,
Where is my star,
I shall rise where I fallen, and fight through the dark denizens of the pit,
Its what I do, who I am, its what I am good at,
I am, Eduardo, Basque warrior and assassin,
A child of time,
And of light and dark verse
I cannot die, and I will ride on forever,
I am the Wolf
And,
I-WILL- NOT-YIELD
Its part o’ my curse,
Till the prideful sin of absolution, and the absolution of my sin
has breathed life into the dry bones,
`~,,~`
After an age, and a times and a times in a half,
That what came before, has become once again,
Children of the light of the westerning sun, and from the verses of lesser light
From a tower of stone, at vanishing point
We watched, and recorded all of mans will, words and actions,
To watch, to gather and to store great amounts of data, knowledge and information’s,
and to guard the sacred stones,
The Onyx Stone still proved to be in the land,
Along where the four great rivers split,
Stolen in the darkness, we can feel its energies being used,
We finally ride,
Finally, after so many times past,
TO either settle the darkness once more to bright light,
Or to keep it dark,
Even I know not which we will choose to do;
```~~~..~~```
As I sit upon the stone of fate,
Contemplating things small and great,
As a part of the Westerning Sun, back facing East,
The sword coasts rugged beauty,
Along the shore line,
A Child of times, in its own kind of light,
Once more again, with wind in my face
Once more again;
```~~~.~~~```
My arrows are sharp, able to bend and ride with the wind,
They fly true, and penetrate with a smooth jagged edge,
My swords are double edged; one swings wide, and clears a path
The other one, perfected for close quarter fighting
when there is need to see in another’s eye,
And My Axe, DESTRUCTION AND PAIN
Devastator can cut through the dark horde, or pierce through the magik of light
Thunderclap, The War hammer, a poundin wave of pure strength,
Swung, from the fierceness of a warriors heart, and strong steady hands,
It opens up a way, when the will falters, or the mountain passes collapse
`~.Poison, An Assassins Creed. ~`
Perfected and steeped upon each weapon and sheath,
Weapons,
Each weapon, an exact extension of me,
and I love each as a child;
```~~~.~~~```
With age, at times, my eyes have faltered,
And missed their mark
The hands have loosed grip, and they have slipped,
Drink has taken some of the dexterity and precision oft times,
When arrow misses target,
When sword deflects off of blocked or missed swings,
But, my true strength, aint all about precision, weapon, poison, or machine
Its my ability to heal, get up and fight through the pain and all fears,
Stubborn as an Ass,
I-DO-NOT-YIELD…
I can’t,
Livin through the pain, its what I do,
Its how I can still carry my name,
As a child of times,
As do all of the company of the Westernin Sun,
An keep my head up
Livin through the pain and betrayals, outnumbered by dark fears
By dark fears of the sins of my past,
My past; They will one day claim me, and carry me off,
But not today,
Not today,
Today, I still heartbeat and breathe,
With groans, an near death moans,
Where is my star,
I shall rise where I fallen, and fight through the dark denizens of the pit,
Its what I do, who I am, its what I am good at,
I am, Eduardo, Basque warrior and assassin,
A child of time,
And of light and dark verse
I cannot die, and I will ride on forever,
I am the Wolf
And,
I-WILL- NOT-YIELD
Its part o’ my curse,
Till the prideful sin of absolution, and the absolution of my sin
has breathed life into the dry bones,
`~,,~`
Published 14th Jul 2015
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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The author encourages honest critique.
14th Jul 2015 8:44am
Do not yield! Love it, awesome ink. Inspiring, my brother. Thanks for strengthening my resolve.
17th Jul 2015 11:49pm
Very right on brother, were all part of the coven man... Up the irons my friend, an play it long an loud \m/
19th Jul 2015 9:36am
This made me laugh man! Geez I'm not mocking you but, this is funny as hell! Thanks!
20th Jul 2015 10:42pm
No offense girl, but you been on a writing website over a thousand days now, and haven't written anything here? I don't mind you laughin, if thats what the write made you feel, then power to ya, but what the fuk are you doin on here... Are you on here to troll or steal other writers works? as you dont really comment either...
