Toiling in the fields of Nephilim’s grief.
Armed with axe and a battle fleet.
Rip these tears but don’t succumb.
Death is victory yet to be won.
In eyes of crows.
On tongues of ox.
Sow up these wounds before a mead detox.
Haunt the avenues of others defeat.
Make loss something that is obsolete.
As vultures circle with baited breath.
Be careful of what war does confess.
Resolve through gritted teeth.
Taste the blood.
Spit out pain.
Repeat these accomplishments without shame.
Raise this goblet in defiant rebellion.
Once pikes are mounted with enemy carrion.
Reminder for those who thirst with greed.
Meet your maker against our hated creed.
Sense of purpose instilled by blood.
Feed the monster.
We bear our teeth.
Survival against odds is how we feel complete.
Simon A Jackson - Writer 