The Spirit of the Obstreperous Patriarch

I create a crisis

in your blood soaked eyes,

never wavering before you,

though you seek to daunt me,

like so many before,

you press in,

futile,

yet louder than

the roar of an

obsessed hurricane,

pounding your titanic waves

upon what you hope are

my brittle shores,

only to find a yielding

resistance,

a softness that absorbs the

shock like a

cancer that drinks

radiation in the heat

of the summer sun.

Take heed, my giant

teeth gnasher,

for you spend your

strength in vain.

You will have to prey

upon another,

as I have better

things to do,

than suffer in your

tired war.

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2 comments on “The Spirit of the Obstreperous Patriarch

  1. ozymandiaz says:

    that softness is a great form of strength
    confuses thine enemy
    as their minds are hard and brittle
    and the concept foreign

  2. ejalvey says:

    We have our ways {smile}

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