The Song of the War Spirit

Mayhem, destruction, cataclysm
The tides of war beckon toward the chasm
of complete annihilation; Ragnarok,
The whole miserable world will finally croak.

Sticks and stones, though highly primitive,
When breaking backs, are no less punitive.
Faces painted red and blue, take the field,
warriors with no amour, no mail, no shield.

The war drums' beat, me awakened
Eons of slumber, finally concluded
A fresh new world to ravage
With inhabitants refreshingly savage.

Swords, pikes and spears; bows and arrows,
Bring to end lives aplenty, filled with sorrows
Pharaoh, shaman, emperor and priest send out to fight
at their bidding soldier, warrior, samurai and knight.

The war horns loud and clear, sound a welcome.
For the time of war's own spirit has finally come.
I once again ride forth gaily on the land,
Wielding, blazing red and glorious, my sword in hand.

Guns, germs and steel, gifts of industry
have given war the tools to chart a new history.
Religion and Communism; Nationalism and Fascism
battling each other towards the ultimate schism.

My fellow spirits worthy - pestilence, famine and death
With horses white, black and pale prowl this cursed earth.
We spare not king nor knave, nor scepter nor scythe not Spade
For of equality paragons are we; none can us evade.

Submarines and fighters, rockets and war heads nuclear
with powers destructive unseen of, unheard of, bring near
The day of reckoning, the day when finally triumphs justice
brought to fruition by man's own greed and avarice.

To us the gallant horsemen will the earth bequeath in a heap
The wounded, the famished, the diseased and dead shall we reap
For the road to war has been chosen, the dance of destruction
must bring all vermin foul to their final destination.

Mayhem, destruction, cataclysm
The tides of war beckon toward the chasm
of complete annihilation; Ragnarok,
The whole miserable world will finally croak.

For whom the bell tolls

A book of faces