Mordhau

Mordhau is a half-sword technique of holding the sword inverted, with both hands gripping the blade, and hitting the opponent with the pommel or crossguard. In english it translates to murderstroke.

Mordhau

 

The paintbrush leaves murderstrokes

On the canvas kaleidoscope bandage

Like a sheet metal sky while the kite of starlight glimmers guillotines

Obsidian scimitars of armada

Garnished in the parchment of anarchy

Crisscross-guardians of cartilage

Painted into sainthood’s womb

Sword sage polymerization

The soldiers of metamorphosis’s tune

A memento for hymn alone

On his malachite throne varicose

Cracking skulls, a face of rock

That speaks in jagged teeth at the cliffside

Adrift riffling slipknots the abyssal rift

Sinking in photosynthesis blinking in and out of omniscience

Kindling mildew’s veins in the spectacle

Of Nephilim separated from decimation

Delving into the dwelling of hell’s melancholy depths

Resurrected effigies crept

Decibels of pestilence blooming

Bioluminescent sepulchres spectres of perfection

The warlords of cornucopia’s orchestra

Chlorophyll digging through with their branches and roots

Brambles of Avalon’s vagabonds marriage

To heresy burying marionettes

Setting fire like the son of tsunamis

Bottomless dichotomies toppled by metropolis

Polychromatic avatars of Babylons’ towers

Devouring the hourglass, Mordhau Valkyries

Scratching at rapture’s cataclysm

Like a graphite knife deciphering between the lines of the page

And the stalemate crux of grace

Wearing barricades of the handcuffs of luxury

Knuckledusters of the rusting percussion of heartbeats

Hollowed out bodies

Trying to fill themselves with something that isn’t numb

Something that isn’t dead yet, at least

Bashing in the walls

Until they can no longer hold the place of those yet to be born

As if they own the place

Without a foundation

Teetering between write and wrong-doing and not

Throwing stones with their glass cannon

Slipping into the shadows I wear

Clothed in the intestines of darkness

Arising again to claim their throne from limbo

Which has already been pushed over the edge

 

Author's Note

I promise I read every single review, and I generally will reply to them. I look forward to my next review, because it helps me learn. Even if it's just one word, I promise, I will be happy to hear anything you feel needs sharing. Whenever you write on my shortcomings or breakthroughs, or the themes of my poems, or share ideas and friendly criticism, it decides my next poem to an extent. I will listen, learn and be thankful. And 99% of the time, you'll get a reply unless you're trolling me.

Reviews

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Sounds like it was written in hurry, I can't relate words properly. But let's see how it goes. Maybe you're editing. 😁