The Plundering Tide

 
Freight cars rain
Scattering plumes
Rich, with lives well-squandered

As nightfall dwindles
Beneath their endless
Arching cries

There are no sirens
Only a great span of silence
And the plundering tide
Brought forth, by eager hands

Havoc ascends
In murderous clouds
Heaven-bent
For their heinous jobs well-done

As tattered lives
Cleave to vengeance
Simmering with the hatred
Of legions, floundering
Within the waves of grief  

Fire-Bred Travelers

 
The days choked
Upon the great plumes of savagery
Cast out
By the furious and frightful

Lionhearts withered
In the shrill cries of ordinance
Scattering, impaling
All brazen, fire bred travelers

With sharp eyes
Forever swallowed
Beneath the leagues
Of unsparing silence

The careless thrash
Of brother and foe
Is buried deep
In the soils of home

Beyond the waves
True chaos thrives well
Nestled, beneath the skin

As the cruel ravager
Of a quiet
Blissful slumber

Keeping Misery at Bay

 
Our time
Is cruel, to hastily wither
In a peaceful
Steady decline

As we converse
Unaware of the age
The bedlam
We know as home

In our roving
All turmoil wanes
Fearful
Of the aimless chatter

In the casual fall
Of idle words
Spent
To keep misery at bay

The Fruitless Binge

 
No glass was left unscathed
For the night retained
Its juvenile sway

For chaos ruled
Our trembling days
So we burdened the eves
With our harbored dismay

As the night
Teetered, unhinged
And the meek hearts yearned
For a fruitless binge

They cleaved
Each virgin craft
Through rivers brewed gold
On their fever-driven rafts

True to Their Silence

 
Placid grey waters
Mimic the sullen clouds
Swallowed
By the unending chorus
Of mankind’s inner strife

They’ve grown cold
Dormant and silent
Never sparing an instant
Of pigment or sound

As young and old
Carry on
Hopeful for the rays
With eyes stern and vigilant

For just one strand
One glimmering
Shred of hope

Yet the seas remain
True to their silence
Sealed until the hour
Our anguish
Is torn asunder

The Iron Gates of Havoc

 
At the hoisted day
Stomach’s churned
In the permeating oil
Salt air and salvos

The sputtering engines
Grew to their murderous drone
Wading steadily
For the iron gates of havoc

Below their toil
Hushed words prevailed
Clamoring for the skies
Through thick plumes of black

Beyond the raging tides
The iron gates sprung forth
And Neptune’s dark overture
Swallowed, young fortitude whole