Another entry, with a title. I’m regressing. This one’s to post my poetry folio I’m handing in tomorrow, at least the draft versions thereof. I’ll be going over these a bit this evening, in between editing my case study proposal as well, and perhaps just a smidgeon of Oni. Just a smidgeon. I’ve even tagged these for your convenience! Now, if you have any feedback, comment away! Just… soonish. ;)

Arsuf

Clothed in white silk, rnthe sultan reclines on cushions underrnbleached camel-hide. His eyes followrndusted movement, gleaming silver flashesrnslice pathways through grounded clouds,rnas steel-on-steel sendsrncrimson-streaked clashes overrndunes choked with Arab flesh.

As a Frank, the Cour de’Leon boastsrnof gold-ringed ears, his saddlebagrnbursting with trophied mutilation;rnSaladin snaps his fingers and summonsrnthe finest of horses for thernPrince of Butchers.

‘As if reaping the harvest with a sickle’ thernKing charges forward, mounted byrngrace and unwilling to quitrnthe field, as sunset washesrnblood over darkened human slumber.

Morning brings silent patchesrnpunctuated by screams of fallen prisoners,rnas Richard takes glowing iron andrnbrands them his own. Saladin returns to dusted Jerusalem inrnheraldic -though defeated- triumph.

Damascus

On the Damascus roadrndust lies thick, piled withrnskeletal handiwork ofrnwhite robed red crossed butrnnoble soldiers, following anrnelement of holy hewn ash, traditionally,rnon which sacred blood dripped.

Lifeblood’s heartblood, the Damascus roadrntrade broken by charging chargers withrnpassenger knights, trampled bannersrnreplace silken thread as items of choice,rnslave girls and boys now locked with rnlecherous abandon behind stone walls.

Insufficient water equates to deathly anguishrnfor horse and man both,rnwith fruitless pounding on steel-girdedrntimbers, the siege halts and swaysrnunder relentless noonday sun.

From the wings, raiders slash at crusaderrnforces as they retreat back homewards,rn hammered down by boiling pitch fromrnwalls unsurmountable, andrnfinally forsaken.

Advocatus Sancti Sepulchri

From verdant green ofrnisle-like Lorraine comesrnthe Holy Penitent, Godfroi,rnwith arrogant case rnbeating a rhythm in time withrncavalry bridle chains.

First over the wall butrnnot first choice for a rncrown, the black bearded Frank growls,rntenacious under the arrow-laden sky.

He lifts a wooden symbol andrnbellows a benediction trnthe Lamb of God for thernDay’s Slaughter, and goes forth,rnblood-red crossed bannerrnstreaming behind him inrndelayed valediction.

The Poor Knights of Christ and the Temple of Solomon

It is said thatrnthe Temple of Solomonrnis fallen down,rnbroken, neglected,rnalmost obsolete in itsrnfoundation stones torn byrnwarfare and Romanrnannihilation.

But the ruined basementsrnremain cased in earthenrnprotection, and now stable thernpet protectors and transportationrnfor those most devout poor,rnwho protect the pilgrim from bothrnthe Muslim raider and himself,rnlost in a wilderness with no guide but the Lordrnbut no refuge for his hungry blind visions.

They name themselves for their location andrnare acclaimed in war and peace,rnnine protectors cum nine thousand soldiers;rndespite ugly jealous rumours of rnhoarded witchcraft and sacrilegious gold. To their detractors they smile, and rememberrnthe day that one hundred were captured andrnknelt down before the axeman, exhorted tornsubmit to Islam before they spat in their captors’ faces,rnand one by one they died, proudly beheadedrnfor Christ.

Hagia Sophia

Proud stone buttresses standrnsilent, alone and abandoned byrntenders as priest and nun alikerncower in shivered obeisance, rnpraying like hell for the salvation ofrnGod.

The doors, sealed by chains and blood andrnOrthodox Faith,rnare tapped lightly, once, twice, then banged withrnresounding exultation, bursting inwards rnto stream steel-robed penitents withrnbroadsword crucifixes,rnin search of redemption.

Holy Wisdom feels the keen touch ofrnbloodied retribution, with the softened fleshrnof holy order melting bloodstains ontornsilken hangings, mopping up the redrnfloor.

The Queen of the Cathedral now reclines in thernPatriarch’s throne, her hand clenching the rnSacred Chalice of cheap wine. She waves herrnvessel from side to side, her throat expelling a rntale of sex and death and sex while drunkenrnCrusaders chant Gregorian rhythms in balladic time. The Queen’s breasts bounce, her open tunic blousernripped of buttons by eager soldiers,rnnow providing accompaniment for herrnhymn of praise.

Fourth, the Leper

From what loins did you spring? Godless peasant, spawned fromrnthe ages of Muslim hypocrisy and salvation-tauntingrnto mock the creationist dogma of a one god one earthrnreality, desecrating the Temple-mount with minaretsrnand removing the sacred blood and sacred flesh fromrnHoly Sacrament?

True scion of Kings you, whose flesh was pierced inrnchildhood games and felt no pain, whosernfingers gripped unsteadily the bridle of thernstate while uncles applied the whiprnand cousins dug spurs into the sides tornforce your hand, palsied and witheringrnto action.

You were a man once, locked in lockstep byrnfather’s grace. Amalric, Amalric, did you survivernto realise your son’s complaint? Leper. Outcast. Unclean - yet, God’s creature andrnKing of Jerusalem, named for Grandfather’s Grandfather’s rnCousin, Baldwin the First now the Fourth in ages after.

Blameless, you may be for your disease and yourrnblood, but blameless not for actions, ofrnbetrayal and patronage and leprosy. Dedicated to your kingdom, yetrndedicated to a dying dream,rnyou gave kingdom and faith into covetous hands,rnand could only mourn through destruction and dissolutionrnfrom your untimely grave.

Thoughts? :)

rnAlcata’riel.

-Andiyar