An Irregular Sonnet

December 14, 2016

The dark lord is an enigma to them all.
What was Khosatral Khel ‘fore he oozed up into iron?
Was the Abhorrent an angel ere the fall,
and can he sit untroubled on the throne?

He crafts in dead and tortured refuse flesh
a dumb colossus, raising him on high.
But what god to worship (challenge?) save the flash
of his own genius raking at the sky?

A chronicler may puzzle out his birth—
what cosmogonous rupture turned his soul.
Queen Heggra’s spite had molded his self worth;
or she still hunts her lover, ever doomed to fail.

Though for each spidery Warlord, a reason can be shown,
yet no Aggressive Menace knows its very own.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: