The maelstrom is growing, ever seething ever throwing,
And the winds of chaos blowing from the storm outside your door,
The fires are still burning and the children slowly learning
That the wheels are ever turning of the chariots of war. Continue reading
poetry
Old Age Gun
The streets are cracked and broken,
And the words remain unspoken,
They’re the same in every tongue,
With an old age gun,
Now he’s stalking through the rubble,
Boiling thoughts of toil and trouble,
Vision blurry red and double,
And his odds are slim to none
And the words remain unspoken,
They’re the same in every tongue,
With an old age gun,
Now he’s stalking through the rubble,
Boiling thoughts of toil and trouble,
Vision blurry red and double,
And his odds are slim to none
J.C Axe Fiction 