Friday, 4 October 2013

The Rogue of Death

(Created on March 13, 2010... during my World of Warcraft playing days)

Why can’t you see
The invisible killer behind you?
A poisoned blade in each hand
A pair of daggers: pride and death
Skilled at gouging and disorienting
Each desperate sinister strike
Aiming for your heart

How are you blinded
By your quest for epic gear?
Distracted by gold, silver, and copper

You follow self commanding warriors
Concerned with personal achievements
Not the casualties around them
Assassinated by the evil beast

Can you not feel
The disease tainting your blood?
Slowed by holy ones’ efforts

You reject your mortality, saying
“My spirit will be resurrected
So I can fight another day,
And maybe learn to fly”

Do you not know
The next life is neither world nor void?
It’s tranquility or hellfire

Plagued with pain, disease, and poison
One Beacon of Light can cleanse
You can choose this redemption
A rebirth bought with death

Will you take the gift,
Life from the Divine Intervention?
Priest, paladin, warrior in one

Cease with the mocking blows
To Designer – realm entering Character
Cease with the curse of tongues
Mind controlled by evil

Why can’t you see
The invisible killer in front of you?
Leading a horde of demons

One they call the Lich King
Prince of Darkness, the Dragon
Queen of Sorcerers, the Serpent
Rogue of Death

This poem was inspired by an article I read in the Edmonton Sun.  It was explaining that 200 people were killed by rioters in Nigeria.  The ones targeted were Christians, by religious extremists.  I was taken back on how calm and complacent the article was.  It was not on the front page of the newspaper.   The headline for the paper was “The Death Mist,” but it was referring how two people died in car accidents.

The picture on the front of the paper showed a famous actor getting awarded for her trade.  This disgusted me.  Canadians are more concerned about on stupid actor who was blessed enough to be in a place of fame and fortune, than the murder of two hundred innocents.  This moral disintegration was highlighted most by another article I read in that same paper.  During the time of crisis after the earthquake that hit Chile not to long ago, thousands of looters went loose.  They stole stuff that weren’t even essential to survival just out of greed.

Fortunately the government in that country plans to persecute all those stealers involved.  True, justice is supposedly on its way to those murderers in Nigeria, but that’s not the point.  The point is that people are too caught up in their self-importance and superficial lives that they fail to truly harness the seriousness of the decaying world around them.  This is why I recently put my facebook status as “I am not proud to be Canadian.”

Why a poem?  Why with the theme I chose?  Well, I was feeling kind of angered after reading the article, and I was wondering what I should do about it.  I was thinking maybe I’d write a song about it, but the music that fit my mood was somewhere between heavy rock and screamo, and there’s no way I have that kind of composition skills.  I settled with just writing a poem (perhaps good enough to be lyrics), having this theme just to be kind of original.

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