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Welcome to the next installment in my collection of poems about the mysterious and terrible times of Warhammer 40K. This rather grotesque poem looks at the uncaring and unstoppable Tyranids, the "bugs" from beyond the known galaxy. I trust again that you will enjoy it, and hopefully gain some keen interest in the exact art that is poetry writing. Also so that you can be mercifully afraid of the Tyranids everytime you see them...
A beast approaches. A cancer. An affliction. A curse.
To doom that unknown is to condemn the celebrated.
Hope? A word, and nothing, only forsaken, for what doth seek;
Tears shed over silver roses on a battlefield,
And whom do we fight for while we are being devoured.
Pace, quick as a flash of cold lightning through a spore-choked sky.
The hearts of men tangled in a battle for duty. Run,
Lest you be tangled in a battle for your own existence.
A kiss from a steel bolter, unbeknownst to be paid
With the blood of brothers, and a creature eating your spleen.
For many a time of patient isolation they crawled;
A cancer, softening the tonality of the void.
No beast can be slain, nor parasite that drinks sinuous blood,
Or disease rotting the heart of spades in sick sunlight. Hence,
They are here now, a ravenous hunger to blot the orbs out.
An assassin stalks in day of night, with ethereal eyes;
Weapons aloft, men stalk assuredly through stone of fire.
Belief in the Emperor; a gaze of quickest descent
Drives them to their own personal hell. The Sarge turns his head,
A man of no fear with his own. They are all gone...
No trace of glistening scarlet. No cracking bone underfoot.
Simply gone; shadows siezed by the mist. A shot into nothing.
Silence is its reply. The beast approaches, of lethal poise.
A swift leap! The man hath not the power to prevail,
While blades and scuttling Death rip his spine out, dream not.
Sense not the coming chariot upon a fiery steed.
Believe not the messenger, with a cross in his true grasp.
Only know that the battle cometh, which is for creed's sure.
Billions of the dogma's will sap the life out of stars,
And a beast of 40 lives plunges its claws into your chest.
The Great Devourer they say; why must it be so right?
A child may spit profanities, but a monster spits Death.
Burrowing into thy skin. Burrowing into thy soul.
Worst of all, reaching the mind of inner solace and peace,
Bursting through that brain in a spray of matter and belief.
Their hunger will never be satiated, lest their fill
Be something that is destroyed in stature beyond our own.
No reasoning, nor morals, no pain or suffering debt.
Like a passion provoked, they spread in conclave uniform;
Like a moth to flame, are drawn to the sound of men screaming.
Never will it be known where this sentience arose.
Never will it be known as to what they have so done.
But, certain as the malediction of the Emperor,
Or the timid echo in the face of absolute destruction,
The cancer will ravage our body, with hundreds of thousands of teeth.
The Tyranids will devour us all, stalking the pititless orbs,
And, soon, black as day, never the light again will we see.
I certainly will never look at the Tyranids the same way again. Let me know what you think!
I would also like to acknowledge that this work, the preceding work (40K Poetry -Dark Eldar), and all of those that are to follow are of my own originality, and have not been co-written, plagerised or stolen from anywhere else. Thank you
Last edited by The Hawk; May 29th, 2010 at 01:56.
Light a fire for a man, and he will be warm for a night. Light a man on fire, and he will be warm for the rest of his life.
I like it but i feel that it is a bit too long and feels a bit forced. I think you can sometimes get a much more powerful message with a shorter message then with a longer one. also i think i spotted a little innocent type here "heart os spades"
I liked that. I think it helps me to see Tyranids in a slightly different light, so you've done what you set out to do. Writing a poem about Tyranids is hard I imagine.
I alreday was afraid of them now but now that makes me even more afraid them MWAHAHAHA & yes that was AWESOME i liked it. !!
What's the significance of 40 lives? Is it just a number you picked?
Some bits are hard to figure out the meaning of, thanks to your unusual language, but then, the language is a big part of your stlye. (what i've seen of it)
As with your other poem, I like it a lot. In some ways, It reminds me of Shakespeare. It can be difficult to get the meaning, but it actually has a lot of meaning and is worth the effort.
Oh! is it 40 as in 40k?