Glory

just a flow that rolled through me real quick

 

 

 

No augmentation

No special effects

No gratuitous sex

Splayed like roadkill

 

Just pulsing words

Honest and sure

With intentions

As pure as a white flame

 

Eye to the keyhole; ear to the drywall

Stomach in freefall; mind focused and whole

Watch my essence battle with Kingdom Come

Wardrum heart pumping the blood of heroes

 

I’m wrestling with Life

While Death watches

Cutting notches in the

Timeline as tally

Come and rally ‘round the game

As I tame the wily sum

And fight until I fall

Into sweet madness

 

No more dictation

No reasons for tears

No sniveling fear

Just redemption

 

Victory roar

Called up from the core

With emotions

As sore as my muscles

 

Pain in a headlock; stress in a chokehold

Hate rolled up like a wormy squirming knot

Watch my twisted resolve dent but not give

Driven hard by the power of generations

 

I’m wrestling with Death

While Life watches

Cutting swatches from the

Fabric of  the Cosmos

Come and fight with me today

As we plough a pilgrim’s way

Straight through the bullshit

To Glory

   

Author's Note

have a great day

Reviews

[Sam Davidson]

Wow man, this is epic. The words you use are simple but descriptive, chaotic but connective; maybe imagistic.

It's bold, I think you're saying that fighting is real, that it's empty of "special effects" and "gratuitous sex"; it's not done for show, it's done to stay alive.

And the way it feels is grimy, dirty but honest. This is what modern poetry should be like; "wrestling with death while life watches".

You're stuff is the only good poetry I've read that's been written in the past fifty years. I'll read the rest when I'm not so wasted.