Am a Centurion who lost a battle,
Starved like weaned cattle
In search of scores to settle.
War to quench my thirst.
Now the war has ended
I become a thief waiting the nights,
Hiding behind oak trees,
For travellers walking in the dark
Journeying a thousand miles,
Following fireflies
Hoping to make it home before twilight.
When the sun is up
I am like crow losing hope
Flying straight line ropes.
Above the purest hops
Fi fo fi fi fon, drop the beans that grow
Gear up shield and bow
With strength, paddles you row.
When your crops are grown ,
They are like daises , green and whole
Your hands weary and cold
Reaping what was sown.
When the harvest is done ,
I am the baker kneading dough.
Once the Dough is baked ,
Its strong as bough forged of bones
Decorated with silver shining cones.
Free from germs and moulds
For soldiers who has some coins
Eaten with soup that boils.
Just when I serve as meal ,
I become the soldier might.
His strength , the will to fight
His heart , his sense of right
Deep down in foreign land,
Filled with crafty mines
Screeching as witches cries
I walk deep into a trap.
Blown up high into the sky,
Kiki kiki kiki, this is the time i die.
kazer 2018
Tm-Narcissus... Tm-beast... Tm-god.
