Stacking Shelves

I’m bored of the minutes

Time shooting fast bullets

Some I miss

 

I think of the glory

Fighting for a flag

While my every move is anticipated

By other men

Like pawns on a chessfield

But surely getting shot

Is better than stacking shelves

 

Used and tossed away

With a pittance

Locked up in some retirement home

At the age of 40

 

But surely it’s better than stacking shelves

 

 

A Samurai’s Tsunami

Helmet of insect horn

Armour made as hard as ants

Mask crafted by demons

Deep in their seven hells

And a long sword

Restrained within it’s scabbard

Smithed from the smoothest of waters

Calm yet vicious

He releases it

Upon his foes

It’s waves hit enemy after enemy

A relentless tsunami

His dead opponents

Hang from his sword

Adding their weight to it

A ghastly gift

Each wave harder to send

But hitting even stronger

Wanting their blood to mingle

Within its shores

Sometimes when father lets me

Touch his sword

I can hear them all moan in unison

Begging for more blood