Frankenshout’s War

Standard

Stavros de Frankenshout raged
His battlecry encompassed
By short semiautomatic soliloque
Rat a tat tat quick justice
The bullets required bandages to wind
Beans to feed,
Boots to shoe
And yet somehow they were only remembered
As if in a dream
A haze of dulled senses
and disenfranchised thought
A sea of worry
And hate
And retribution
And pain
And somehow through it all
They came

Seven feet tall and taller,
The strangest beings he’d ever seen
Weapons grown from within them
Inherent bonelike gleam
Slow and ponderous and strong
The creatures of the night
Stars their origin and destination
Light years travelled for this fight
The bullets spewing forth
Frankenshout’s weapon raised high
As the Ragers advance
The magazine has run dry

Toss the pistol, grab the sword
Perhaps that is the way
Stavros never wondered
If words could hold some sway
Surely his commanders,
Decorated men them all
Had already tried discussion
Before ten thousand’s fall
The blade seems more effective
But close quarters isn’t safe
Tommy, Franky and Johnboy
Caught boneknives in the face

And now the war is over
Done, dusted, had it’s time
That was a wasted effort
De Frankenshout lost his mind
If you must know, we lost
Everything we had
And now we are much happier
Did you know war is bad?
Our masters, they don’t rule us
Not like in the past
Turns out the Ragers love us
Man, we learned that fast

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