Blood guts and all
Lieing in the river thick,
Arrows stand straight and tall
Sheep favor the grassy downs to pick.
To wile away mid the long dismal nights
In melancholy stillness, under broken lights.
Like the sharp strengthening wine they drank,
Seasoned soldiers stand guard beside due glitter;
Dulled senses and tired minds felt weak and blank,
Crimson taste is upon mouth so sweet, yet so bitter.
Defense of the castle keep is by such high cost paid,
As manmade tirade came to be displayed on crusade.
The spectre of war, is the vent which destiny offers,
How many gold mines are held aloft as imaginary?
Thirst for adventure sees but the yule tide coffers,
Capillary spews forth in crimson tide of savagery.
Interplanetary cries of woe are of gallery painted,
Tubes are twisted and dried, the crimson has faded.
Weighted by the scales of time, we all are of today,
God help the men, the women have all fainted away.
Harold Clapsaddle