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Poem

Battle of Camlann


Lifting his sword for all to see,
pure gold glitters
in the morning sun,
bathing in all its glory,
grinning becomes infectious among
Arthur's cavalry.
With eyes shining, so lovely,
his Guinevere smiles knowingly;
one last time.

As heavy boots scuttle among the
whoring tents,
leers and grunts drown out
the roaring Cerdic.
Rutting against the stench,
the pleasure is not to last.
Spent, gasping heavily,
it is to begin.

As the dew dampens,
rocks unkempt, unawares
rattle with fear
as Arthur the Pendragon
announces his presence
upon a menacing stallion.
Thunderous delight, it seems
as Cerdic mounts and launches
an assault upon Roman-Britain. 

Spewing guts,
look upon a bloody corpse as
cramps give way to
horror.
Sockets bulge as
swords slay sour faces,
grip strong reins,
fire enraptured knights
fight for their Pendragon,
their being, so frail!

Possessing many a power,
the Lord,
prays and kneels upon a sword,
Mithras!
Maiming many an innocent life,
he forcibly fights through
as blinding tears
retract from the horror;
pray for the dead.

With a drink in his hand,
spew threatens its arrival,
but nothing comes
except dribble,
plenty of pleasure left
for a whore,
as it will offer many a comfort
as the mighty Pendragon
gazes upon a new world

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