The wielding vengeance of Excalibur gleaming
in the hands of a king so eager to unsheathe
piercing steel scribing curdling vehemence
of clotted corrosion which screams about him…
Octopus defense is flowing from an artery within
the blood entwined defiance of liquid black
as it strengthens a voice heaven tenfold exhaling
like a stained seal of surging wraith…
It ignites the candle from the blade singing sparks
with its smoke billowing outward big words to a small world
infiltrating the silence with what was once unknown
behind a mask that shadows living lies sot well…
Escape is always but a narrow retreat through narrow halls
cornering a heart like the prey in a hunt
and a soul lashes back at smog enveloping star shine
sinking bloody teeth deep within storm clouds…
“Now it is my turn!” The pen bellows in indignation
striving to stash the flesh that protected it
clawing deeper into dark, devilish decadence
spilling the guts of intestinal gore no more…
Throughout the land and to the furthest shore
the truth spreads forth by king and his sword
with the voice of Excalibur held high in hand
sting the world with the sounds of an insolent pen…
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