hitch

Polemics death plagues the best of minds
Always thinking and always out-spoken
The last of which will fall
Only then will the sound be as deadening

Metastasised with a rigour so dense as to cut lead
I’m lead to a place of conflict
Not without a stricken bow but always on the edge of tune

Far out and far beyond the shelling chimes his name
Where they hammer on a meaning
More defined and more refined than any warlords tale

Melodious wit is lost to the wind
But never out-breathed or overthrown
You will hear it over gun-fire
You will hear it over the mounting graves
For as long as the winds will blow…