Those Who Reek

anticipatory passion in your heart.
that stirs, with every word of your tongue.
beauty you have missed while spent young.
Goodness, if it were along your veins to start

art that traces the roots of time,
and ascends to its very core,
through rungs filled with every hour and night afore,
left yet, explorable in ecstatic rhyme.

those diaries of ancestral paradigm mistaken.
and lessons of gout and wartime,
ye european men, it is time you awaken.
with honour, remember procesessions of our time.

arouse the fire inside your blood, you hunt,
bring forth the vengeance you seek.
trials, and testaments will stand affront
and shadow the shivering, smell of those who reek.

— Christoir Uí Fiachrach