Pre-WordPress: Upon the Edge

At the edge of it all, I stand my ground

When all seems lost, and the game thrown

I take what is left of me, and my soul I charge

What little I own, not enough to avoid this bitter end

Yet till my final defeat, I will make a stand so great

In the books of war, I will claim an honoured place

And when they win the battle, my true victory I will seal

For what is left of me lies in wait, a trap I shall hide

The hidden core of my soul, will poison them ten fold

In the reapers grip I shall laugh, from my position raised

Looking down at broken ranks, the remains of the enemies horde


The horde
The angry crowd
They stand at the gates with weapon in hand

The few are what remains
Remnants of ideals that find new champions upon which to stand

For the sake of a dream we will stain noble blades
Blood runs thick on fields of flowers that will forever be burned with violent screams

We the few
We the brave
We the fools

We have an edge to cut with and for a cause to die
So blacken your armour, scythe in hand
Lay heavy into the horde and make them rue the day

This is our hell and we demons will make angels weep and pray
For there is no more fury in heaven than in each swing of our blades

I will know the enemy bleeds, even if my life is the price I pay

Warriors Curse PT3

The warrior stares into the horde, eyes burning with hate and rage, he cries in unholy tones ‘I am but a shadow of myself, so why do you torment me so for you have taken all that makes me a man’ but the horde just moves forward in rhythmic chaos

As his bloody rapier cuts through the swarm he feels himself become another jaded ghost, as the light he seeks is clouded by the storm he knows will hit him soon, yet in faded form with no path to follow he slashes more viciously in revenge for his life once content, now lost

‘I may be a ghost, lost in the mist of endless night, but my blade is sharp and my mercy slain’ he calmly states, as the hope he keeps inside dies a little more with each second he is denied the dream of peace in a world of pain

Pre-WordPress: Forgotten Hero

Here lies a great man, whose name eludes

Who in his life fought wars that from memory escapes

Those wars so important to our freedom and rights

But have been quickly forgotten and cast out of histories sight

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The battles he charged into, with every ounce of life

To secure a brighter future for those that he had left behind

Have been covered up by the march of ignorance and time

Over information hiding his deeds from another generations eyes

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Into a grave, so plain and overlooked, he was coldly placed

Mourners from another era shed what tears they have left

To mark the end of a great life about which so little was known

The heroes grave now just a weathered stone in the ground, overgrown

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Should you see the stone marked hero, remember what he lost

To create the world that exists all around

The weathered stone in the ground

A forgotten warrior still so proud

Pre-WordPress: A Heroes Story

Upon waves of falling dead, felled by sword and bow

Immortality awaits the victor, should their life remain

And if we fall, may we meet our enemies upon fields of paradise

Or at the gates of hell, where we receive our glory, broken and spent


 For in times of turmoil and flame, when all about us fails

We look for the heroes of destiny to save our fates

Whether they are born of good or evil, it matters not

Only that the mind is sharp and the body strong


 Or from great voids have they risen, to face the fight

Ghosts of former comrades looking to set their soul a flight

Through acts of courage and sacrifice to buy back lives, lost to sin

Or is it vengeance that drives them further into hells embrace


 But whatever the motive or cause, they raise a triumphant toast

To the king of the hour, however long his reign endures

But whomever they serve, the hero stands alone

A light screaming in the dark, vying to out-shine the horde