Three gallant gadding knights
Riding off to war.
The picture of handsome heroes all;
No brother could ask for more.
Conquerors proud, on crest of wave,
Crashing on beaches of conquest.
Sands of gold: women and glory,
“Surely we all are blessed?”
God is with them through and through
For it says it on a belt.
A tribalistic frenzy of flags.
Valour can never melt...
Chest and chins protruded as parrots’
Vibrant dancing flume;
Strutting, mating with Lady War,
While above Mother Death looms.
And reaching down her cold black hand,
To pull away from earth;
Like a worm to feed to greater demons,
The first knight of noble birth.
Before the slightest flash of glory
His soul flung from his body,
Over which two brothers weep;
While hell’s night grows slowly foggy.
Like an icicle slowly melting away
Knight two’s wits begin to crack.
Every shell that crashes down,
Like an axe between his back.
One grey morning he wakes at dawn
And runs from guns and mud;
An icy shard finds his back - he falls
Dragged down by heavy blood.
Third knight lonely pulled the metal,
The scream resounding still.
Trudging home with victory flags
Needless whistles much too shrill
Drooling, locked up, in the dark,
War’s full price full paid.
Third Knight Brave’s soul and mind,
Still lost in hell’s crusade.