my rest has been disturbed,
a pestilence of negligence across my earth
nailed to crops of dirt,
only lower gods, oil and profits work this hard surface
slaves to a purpose now unknown,
grown proud and now paid in worthless stones
all roads serve the throne and I am Servant of the Bones
burner of divine notes,
my fires spoke of light in the darkest knight alone
white powder lines a diamond crypt of souls,
I am the imprint of Emperors of old
a spirit of scrolls, I exist as hieroglyphs in a scholar's mind
harbringer of the divine,
as it is chiseled, some will die
this sluggish gun design is not mine,
as my lungs perspire in a fiery haze, blazing ink flies
lazy, leaky writes
engraved beaks in flight,
graying beards orchestrating meetings over peace pipes
some cheat to be right, scheming c-alikes,
their limited spectrum only registers red beams of light
headless digits victims of viral lines of code,
spiral g-knowns,
wireless sheets composed by a tree's sole and heated chrome finishes
we are the soul's genesis, not green gold apprentices
kings and sole progenitors of swinging sword sentences
breathe souls into green bowls and other assorted instruments,
board missions on a missile's border finds the mortars missin
Al-Quada, foul raiders writing towering razors,
more descriptions of terrorist forces faceless and formed of digits
pour orange mixes into a soldier's engine,
my air supports scores of symptoms and hunts hordes of victims
as a solo scorer in recorded events
I can't afford to board Charon's float so I ford the river Styx,
swallow a hog's hollow sword and it won't be hard to forget I exist...

-I must apologize
Apologize for what?
-For this...

*fighting sounds*

The oracle has many enemies. I had to be sure you were the One.
-You could have just asked
No. You do not truly know some one until you fight them.