ΜOΛΩΝ ΛΑΒΕ

ΜOΛΩΝ ΛΑΒΕ is a Spartan verse, written in December 2018, which has remained unpublished until now

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Björk “Army Of Me (Instrumental)”

Time to talk the talk and walk the walk
Not done yet by a long old chalk
That’s what I told the reaper
Creep may think he’s don
Alas he met his match when actioning the deathmatch with a keeper
Been through worse than anything that bony bitch can throw my way
Rock bottom was rotten and my visit there mere short stay
Stole the sucker’s scythe and now I hold the upper hand
Got him bang to rights and it is he who shall be cast aside and he who shall be damned

Death ain’t that becoming when the fire within burns brightly
Might be battle-scarred but he should never take a Spartan lightly
We go hard, not home and hold the deeds to our own fates
Every time we bleed, we feed those lost of voice and say
Together we grow stronger and the longer he persists
The more we rise from flame, with nerves of steel and iron fists
Build a mighty Trojan, lead the charge against his willing horde
Not about to quit when it’s his turn to feel the stinging swarm
Killing in the name of living loud and singing proud
Standing arm-in-arm as we charge calmly through the battleground

Purpose reinforced, endorsed by standing tall together
Never backing down, we hold our ground and if we fall at all, we raise the call to duly fall together
With courage and conviction, we don’t flee when things get gory
Got the spine for killing time
Do love a bedtime story
The world is in a desperate mess and only getting worse
What started out as blessing is on one-way track to holy curse
Needs someone to stand up, have the backbone to be counted
May as well be us as we’ve long since been downed and outed
System failed us then derailed, consigned us to the slag heap
Red hot poker smoking as they branded us as black sheep
Dirty little secrets deemed unfit for mass consumption
Ill-fitting society which knows not how to function

Search for the oppression, it’s in every walk of life
Some of us fall hard from grace, while others save on face and walk the line
Think they’ve seen the last of us as we approach estrangement
Little do they know that we’re the sludge that oozes through the cracking pavement
Recovery was vital after such harsh wounds inflicted
Doubled up on manpower, healed faster than predicted

There’s a sickness which exists in us, for which there is no antidote
No trysts were signed or souls sold on, no need for democratic vote
We simply knew of the power of two and found ourselves a source
Stuck it to the reaper as we were not done now by a longer chalk
Learned to run before we walked
Turned the gun on what they taught us
Took up our positioning
And shot a hole dead centre of their endless false conditioning

So many lips spill lies
So many kisses cost us lives
Time we rise
Or else, we’ll all be stone cold dead behind the eyes
Now’s the time
To start a revolution
Take back what is ours
And come down hard on constitution
Liberties are free so take them
No need for gaze quite so vacant
Open up our eyes
And make a difference with our voices
Choice is ours, so what’s it gonna be?

Richard Charles Stevens

Keeper of The Crimson Quill

Click here to purchase All of Me Vol. I, II, III, IV, V & VI

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