A Call To 'Arms'

The pen is mightier than the sword, but a blog is easier to wield! I have been called on to post, and answered the call, enjoy for now!

Roleplaying Pirates

These truly are the times that test men's souls,
Bush has crossed the Rubicon, and
The die has been cast, alas,
Where is Pompey,
Our Lion to their Ass? Bastards!

"Enough! So what is your master plan?"
You say and you ask.

Well my friend it's really a simple enough task,
And I am glad...
you asked!

We go around molesting people whilst we're screaming:

"Splish-Splash-ARGGGGGG!
Hey you...
AVAST!
We're roleplaying Pirates, and
We'll take your C*ck for C*sh!"

All the while my deplumed parrot companion,
Who wears a t-shirt with an image of Toucan Sam,
Will be going crazy,
fast - in a dash,
HE'LL find those fruity,
loops - at last.

"Splish-Splash-ARGGGGGG!
Hey You...
AVAST!"

We'll sing,
We'll laugh,
And here is where it's at,
We'll skip,
We'll clap,
Even with a hat!

"HAPPY, HAPPY, JOY, JOY!
HAPPY, HAPPY, JOY, JOY!
HAPPY, HAPPY, JOY, JOY!
HERE'S MY FINGER, NO GO F*CK YOUUUUUUUU!"

The Red River

At Tucheng River the Reds suffered defeat at the hands of enemies they were sent to meet and there four-thousand died in a single day because Mao had to have his way. Instead of continuing forward to meet Chang Kuo-Tao, which certainly would have made Mao kow-tow, he went behind their back and set and ambush for the enemy more likely to win the attack. And their he watched from mountain high, long, listening to the dying cry before sending the call to flee. As one they fled to the Red River bed, where Zhu De personally covered the retreat swearing at his officers till it was complete, and when it was all over - all said and done, one couldn't help but look around and be stunned - the banks of the river now overflowed, a Red flood of Red's blood.

A Reckoning

From a skeletal finger,
On the icy hand of Death:
A beckoning.

Into the midst of a hazy fog,
My Love will follow obediently;
Their will be a reckoning.

I cry to all and no one,
"Gouge a beating heart from flesh,
But only if it be me,
Spare her heart-strings severed,
And I will gladly pay the fee!"

But only Echo's voice resounds,
Because here there can be no winged Eros found, and
As Huntress begins to lower down,
As Reeds and Willows slowly frown,
As Immortals move their foci round,
A lake teems, grows, and abounds.

A crash of Thor's thunder,
A rush of Zephyrus' wind,
A flash of Jove's lightning,
A deluge, have I sinned?

A halo of light from Heaven's Plane,
A hallowed light from an Abyssal vein,
And me blinded by these lights similar yet not the same -
Causing my mind so much suffering and pain -
That the only thing I can see is a symbol strange:
There on the shore stands a crane.

White as the peaks of mountain snow,
With a countenance that makes him seem to grow,
And as majestic as the Emperors of old -
His eyes burrow into my soul!

"D...does my love blithe and make her weak,
A...and am I so sad and bleak,
T...that she will leave me some day or week?"
I say stuttering to speak,
My body penitent and my voice meek.

"What you ask is not what you seek..."

And with that he disappears,
Leaving me alone with these fears,
Standing on the shores of an ocean,
Growing ever vaster with my tears.