Dark Days

Achilles—The Myrmidon Terror of Troy

Today, Achilles paints revenge upon the fleshy mask he adorns

His worn terrain peeks thoughtfully through the slivers of slippage,

Radiating a pugnacious incandescence, that feeds off the stinging air,

Itself lovingly bleeding life from the charcoal lungs of Patroclus

For as the crows scour King Priam’s gentle, affluent pastures… Squawking their death cry

Picking at the leftover riches of poverty-stricken soldiers’ skulls, that still bear bronze helmets

For the sun’s blazing reflection singes hopping black feathers

That desecrate courageous flesh, dismantling therein the golden sands of timelessness,

Before mortality

Stains the seas red; it snakes down Poseidon’s salty windpipe, leaving him drunk on

Mortal juice that froths with war

Hatred hugs the sides of the bobbing, creaking Archaean Biremes,

Staining, like wine and bread congealed stubbornly to the wooden plate.

Achilles’ fierce tongue has tasted King Agamemnon’s true heart

The taste soured!

Weeping, yearning and aching for Patroclus,

The enmity streaks through heartbroken veins

Racing headstrong as Xanthas and Balios,

The flow of poison flames within, burning for retribution against the mighty Hector

Fantasising Achilles dreams of Archaean steel swiftly carrying the Prince of Troy away

To the underworld in a glorious golden chariot of death,

Crafted and nurtured for the occasion by Athena herself

The war-cry trembles the very foundations of Olympus,

Toppling the gods from their cloudy thrones

Briseis begs for the fury to break, but

Myrmidon loyalty hungers—craves—for their master’s charge

But Achilles, Son of Peleus, fires them back…

This fight is his to be immortalised in the dust-filled grounds of Troy

Agamemnon smiles sweetly… Patroclus’ fall has saved this war!

Achilles and Hector dance the warriors dance

Each fanning their plumage in an ostentatious vanity and strength

Pirouetting, like crazed marionettes to the gods’ masterful puppeteers,

Before deciding Achilles is due his glory and immortality in the annals of history,

All for the impertinent wrongs against him done by wicked Agamemnon

With a flash of greaves and swift thrust of blade

Hector wilts in the glaring sun

His Trojan soul empties with a spewing of claret mortality that

Bubbles in the fine, dry soil…

Achilles stands proud and tall, his handsome face adored by the gods

Uniting in a Greek battle-cry that thunders the bloody air, consuming all of Troy.

Book Details

AUTHOR NAME: Chris Botragyi

BOOK TITLE: Dark Days

GENRE: Nonfiction

SUBGENRE: Poetry

PAGE COUNT: 104

IN THE BLOG: New Poetry Books