Unguarded
the gates were supplicated aside
and forwards we crept into fallow realms
boasting consummate consequence
and shadow.
Hesitation
fell no less grating
than the ironclad shade being forced,
irreversibly shut,
by hundred year old sentries that rose,
gamely, to man ambiguous outposts.
There was no mistaking their smile;
secreted from tortured, tenuous lips,
sallow-blotched shards shook like stalagmites,
loosing a solitary undertone that rang crystal clear.
A threshold had been crossed
and, without suitable sacrament salaried,
all prospect of homecoming
was irrevocably annulled.
They were the null
and they were the void.
Suckled on pure pallid paltriness,
they were the desolate that fed upon dread.
Roused by flaunting ripened decomposition,
paradigms of mortality seeped, frothing
from supposed corners of maggoty mouths,
winding paths down twisted chins
to spew like butter from a toppled churn.
Unfazed,
we sneer heart-rending condolences.
No one crosses into such greying peripheries
with half-hearted conviction.
Our eyes take turns stabbing them
― loathing them most insuppressibly.
We didn’t come to reflect in prayer;
solicit absolution; or barter for a deferred mortality.
We disembark,
from a port of reckless foundation.
We’ve come solely to disgrace and defile
― devoid of validation.
We seek no pardon
for we’ve ventured forth
of primordial necessitation.
We pose no conditions
― other than this tedium be shed.
Born utterly of the ecstasy of defiance;
we’ve come to impose our will
upon those who’ve staked claim
that they might never be tamed.
And so we climbed the highest hill
to propose our calamitous offer...
“Fiends, heathens, charlatans:
― you will extend us your vitality.
Our world has run aground― upon yours.
We’ve burned our sails; hewn our hull;
and now we drop anchor― to harness your feet.
“You can not flee nor can you hide.
Your time ends almost as the hour.
We will hunt you. We will find you.
You have no recourse― but to cower.
“We will beat you
until every sunken eye capsizes
within its pulverized skull
― and blinks no more.
“We are the Wholly Unholy
― come to slaughter triteness solely.
We are the Dread of the Dead
offering naught save obliteration
to appease our own irksome vexation;
foretold as the Bane of Indolence
― come to conquer the Otherworld whence.”
The sporadic-skinned sentries abandoned then their posts
and we greeted them with broad swords drawn.
Demons flocked to the skies, encircling us like vultures
and we eyed them through bow sights and volleys of arrow.
Imp and sprite broke bone from those still in slumber
and came limping― skulking― towards us
and these were made welcome by lance, axe and mace.
We conquered and we killed and our hilltop grew taller
and from our new viewpoint we glimpsed our mistake.
Creatures,
more grievous than imagination allowed,
began to erode from the base of that same hill
on which we stood― watching the Dead Undead
awaken and rise― as quickly as they fell.
And thus we stood― and stand― our ground
and will forever after throughout
each tiresome day and night yet― still― to come.
Author notes
Sooooo.... like this group of battle hardened soldiers is like bored eh... so they cross over into the Next World to pick a fight.
Yeah... just 'cause they're really bored... no other reason... than like just for the sake of trying to do the impossible... and wanting to kick some ass real bad.
On accounta that's all they know how to do... pillage and conquer... but they've kicked all the asses of the living already... which is why they're so frickin' bored now.
Only now they're stuck... doomed to kick ass perpetually... or fall... and become as ugly as the decomposing freaks they're fighting.
And like that's it... in a fetid, rotting nutshell... so to speak.
Oh... and just in case:
supplicated = implored; beseeched; pleaded
fallow = barren
consummate = completed to an intended aptness
ambiguous = vague; unclear; not easily discernable
tenuous = feeble; barely viable
sallow = yellow, sickly, ashen
sacrament = reparation; atonement; penance
pallid = pasty, pale
paltriness = condition of triviality
paradigms = theories
peripheries = fringes; limits; borders
insuppressibly = eternally; unceasingly
primordial = primitive
tedium = state of boredom
charlatan = fraud, imposter
triteness = dullness; banality
vexation = aggravation
indolence = inactivity
imp = mischievous, brutish goblin
sprite = more sorcerer or faery type goblin
skulk = sneak; slither; creep
A contest entry
- Morbid Dreams, Seem So Sweet.... by Morbid DreaMz.
500 points, ended October 15, 9 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Comments
1 - 5 of 5
-
Reminds me of Viking mythos. It's long, but reads well. I was going to put in the comments that I needed a dictionary handy when I'm reading your work, but then Bam! I see it after I'm finished. I always wanted to use consummate in a poem, but it always looks out of place when I try.
I really liked the vibe I got from this. They seem so intent on killing everything, and so victorious when they've accomplished their mission, and then in just two stanzas, their work is undone.
I'm pretty sure you were a bard in another life.
I like the fluidity of the story; it's fluent, and understandable. You kept me on my toes throughout the entire thing.
Lovely, lovely.
Oh, and I love the monologue you threw in there towards the end, it really brought the piece to life.
-
You show a great exspanse of vocabulary and paint a rich picture in the reader's mind. My favorite line has to be "There was no mistaking their smile;
secreted from tortured, tenuous lips".
Though it was a little long, I managed to hold my attention throughout the piece.
But in some places I felt like the vocab was overdone and confusing.
-
-
Yeah... you're right.
It is long winded and the vocabulary is "painted on thick".
My intention was to make it linguistically extravagant.
It's meant to be read orally... much like the movie "300" starts.
I wanted its sensationalized descriptiveness and over-blown metaphoric prose to ooze like blood from a wound.
If I read it to myself... it seems not only grandiose but tedious.
However I think it comes alive, developing its own persona, when read aloud.
-
-
Very nicely done...
"“You can not flee nor can you hide.
Your time ends almost as the hour.
We will hunt you. We will find you.
You have no recourse― but to cower."
Lovely. =)
Good luck in the contest.
And thank you for entering. ^^
-
-
thanks muchly...
for the inspiring contest.
I may need an edit or two... we'll see.
-
Adding your comment:
1 - 5 of 5
