Thursday, June 12, 2014

Father Ares

His conceit is power
At the scene of battle
He has never paled
His way is danger
Father of Deimos and Phobos
With perfect form 

With perfect rage
The perfect warrior
A warrior god
Lover of violence
His armor and shield black

Deep from inside his helm
Two burning eyes staring out
In epic, vile anger
Oaths and prayers for Ares
Both silent and vocal
Some screamed
Some uttered
In the desperation
For this he revels

To see his children
Make war and folly
In his domain of fear
His control is abject, total
Wild and untamed is Ares
King of war's brutality
Never fearing his opponent

By his spear he made war
His appearance upon the field
Reaps a woeful harvest
Bitter is the fruit of the anger seed
Desperate men called upon him
He answers no prayer

Never in history
He never answers
Nor is he to blame
For his way is danger
He laughs at every plea

 The lust of war in men
Is his legacy
 We ought to feel shame
For the way of man is foolish
  Our zeal for war is mournful
Knowing the consequence
Yet still
Daring to call out Ares' name