The New CrimeaFrom China's people'd farms and townsThe New Crimea by TheLastIconoclast
To the dark-Dnieper flowing broad,
A tramp and growl of war resounds
And planes sail o'er children awe'd.
For distant Russia stirs from sleep
And clears the snow about her head.
Now awake from dreaming deep
To build a wall with Western dead.
For common man with no fear or sloth
Let out a message high and bold;
To join with Europe's peaceful oath
And break the Russian stranglehold.
Fair Europe girds her children well
To stand with sons of Cossack men
And send the Russian down to hell
And face down Barbarous hordes again.
For we in Europe long abide
And fight in Western brotherhood
Against the cruel eastern tide
Where once the lauded Teuton stood.
College CollectionWhat a sad and strange collectionCollege Collection by TheLastIconoclast
Have spilled to the earth here
The maverick Casanova
Who's only handsome in his head!
And he's sneering at me
Talking of the conquests he and others
Oh the professors have seen a thing or two
And can't wait to sermonise to you.
To shill you all the wisdom
That they've scrounged along the way.
The classrooms are full, packed to the walls
Full of young and stupid children
Who absorb it all without a care.
And the philosophy student
With three weeks underneath his belt
Thinks he has found all the answers
Thinks that he has got it figured out.
And the woman with the greasy hair
Who spends her time in the collage bar
Is counting out her pocket change
She only wants one more.
The maverick will take her home tonight
And boast to all his friends
But he doesn't give a shit about
The girl he's left behind.
The psycho festers quietly
Taking all his notes and classes
And trying to fit in.
The little fat country boy
With rosy cheeks and wet behind h
Silent ServersIt is the fate of all serversSilent Servers by TheLastIconoclast
Silence will descend
And all the battles and wars
Shall without ceremony end
The fields will be abandoned
The townships emptied out
The silence no longer broken
By either gunshot or shout.
The game-graves exist in space
Silent graves for ageing games
For when the sequel is released
With better graphics and faster frames
Then the veteran is forgotten.
Left on a bargain shelf
The series stumbles forward
A pale shadow of itself.
Nostalgia fires up one day
But that too will fade in time
The legacy ensconced
in memory and shrine.
To the matches long concluded
To the friendships long dissolved
Your glories were merely lended
As I now become a man.
TidesI wish to watch from distant shoresTides by TheLastIconoclast
Love's currents wash around me
Not swamping, not eating away
But a steady touch and ever present.
Not to consume or to exclude
Not to set me spinning or alone
But enough to set my heart smiling
A smile to all the world.
I wish for no great goddess
Or some Idol to carry in my pocket
To show to friends and strangers.
Behold, the great winds come
Wail around my head
Never touching nor coming to rest
But laying soft breaths on distant shores.
Yet see those lovers now a-bed
And in happy comfort, quick to break
Apart to warring fractions.
I wish not to be them, no brief-burnt candle
But a light a-glowing in the darkness
To draw the soft wings of moths.
They hold more beauty for hiding it
And more softness than sun-hardened
Butterflies who grow afraid of grasping hands.
Mosley - a TrioletMosley - a Triolet by Strelnikov72
They came to hear Sir Oswald thunder!
To stand within the baleful light
Of false dawn limning England's shore
They came. To hear Sir Oswald thunder
And tear the hated Red asunder,
The black ranks - to this hall of spite
They came. "To hear Sir Oswald thunder!"
(To stand within the baleful light)
My Hourglass FigureUnsure and stuttering
you ask me
ask for everything
ask for too much
I refuse to take your pleas
to look at those desperate eyes
overflowing with pent up emotion
Leave me be
watch your reflection bounce back at you from cold glass
I have no time left to give
that's what you want, isn't it?
time, time, time
The sand in my hollow body has just about run out
leaving me empty
with false hopes that I might be turned over
giving me a few more hours on the clock
I used to be a work of art
now only cracked glass
wishing less life was wasted clinging to falling sand
I can give you other chances
if you help me
Fill my cracks with sincerity
repaint my chipped edges with bright smiles
I have yet to be fixed but I know it's possible
only then can I give you the time you seek