A Death For Pleasure
Stained in the blood of strangers, survival is a must. Cheers are the only constant in his life, the uproar of crowds. Sweat brows his eyes as sun basks in thickened heat. His throat dry, but his soul beats, though weak in the bared living he has now.
He must not kneel to the fear before him. For he is still a warrior of his breath, giving no solace to his enemies. Though they wish to reap the same award, a life of freedom. A severed head rolls from a mighty swing of steel.
The air cut with a whistling of blades. The rumbling of the crowd silents the struggles of the men pitted in desperation to live. Men with seething teeth of gambling stand in intensity, as they begin to second guess their wager. For this new gladiator is not of normal pretense. He stands with skill, his blade of a soldier, his eyes hollow in the face of death.
He is no fool to the unexpected. He is no jester the thirst of blood, narrow not is his vision. Leaving no moment open for the enemy. The king sitting displeased as his best becomes but a toy. No new blood as been drawn.
The kings best is planted to his knees by the swift finesse of this new gladiator. His eyes drawn to the severed head before him. His breaths shallow, his sword held in exhaustion. The man raises his blade, looks to the king.
The crowd shouts in ovation to see death. The king raises his hand, and gestures the death of his best. And in no hesitation the new gladiator, drops his blade with accuracy, severing the head of his enemy.
He drops to his hands, the crowd rages with applause in delight as blood pours from the headless body. But the winner, the man, finds no comfort in the execution of his win. But the king applauds him as well, and men rush to his side and force him to his feet.
Weak in the fervor of sorrow, he places his eyes to the king with a tilted head. Showing no desire for more, but the king pulls from his pocket, the names of the gladiators family. And before the champion could speak, tears fell from his face. And he replied to the king with tearful and anxious tone,
"Where are they my king, are they safe?"
The king smiles, placing the list upon his table,
"Yes, they be alive my champion. But you shall not see them till I say you have fulfilled the contract as my greatest gladiator.
And for three more years, this man remained a prisoner to the king for the mere pleasure of death.
Thank you for reading, what is your guess of what inspired this piece?
Looking of for more poetic adventure? A Man's Traveled Heart
Find me on YoutTube as well
Thank you for your support!
Popular posts from this blog
The Moles Never Learn I found myself walking in the snow, my head aching with a sharp pain. I feel the back of my head, there is something crusted upon the rear of my skull. I dig my nail carefully into it. I can feel the crust collect beneath my nail like dirt. As my feet trudge through the sixteen inches of snow I look to my nail and there in my nail is blood. Dried cells of my body. Upon seeing this I become confused with worry. I place my hand once again upon my bloodied skull and began to examine it. I slide my index finger like the bristle of a broom, back and forth trying to see what wound had allowed such blood upon me. But after several seconds of feeling about, I find nothing. No scratches, no lacerations, nothing. My worried confusion musters down to mere confusion. I rub my eyes as I am strangely held with a slight daze. As if I have been interrupted from a deep sleep. And the evening air is not helping my situation. I am comfortably wrapped for a day tr
The Blameful Two The world broke as their hearts bled the shadows of their misery. Seeping upon the world, flooding with the scars of agony. Their eyes trembling beneath the moonlight as their blood stained hands shimmer. Their lips sewn as each is caught in a lie. Both bare, exposed to their duality. Their curtains drawn thus unmasks the bodies they have slain. The skeletons of truth dragged through the spoils of deceit. Each, unwilling to speak. Their cheeks flush in rose petals. Their skin taut to the anxiety of their arrest. They are now the victims of themselves and each the other. Two hell's preached in the underbelly of their weakness. The fraudulent thought in avoidance of pain. And now they stand as nude as the beginning of life, Adam and Eve. Shaking, they are without words. Silent, bearing only tears that fall to the blood soaked floors. The dark whirlpools of hypocrisy. Neither is without sin and neither is without murder. Their souls weep dearly a
I Had Forgotten Red smoke plumes in the air. A brilliant, yet daunting sky of clouded crimson thickens the sky in sheets of billowed cotton. It rises with no sense to stop. The atmosphere frightens, yet heightens the senses with a strange tingle of pleasure. We are losing our homes to the natural order. Yet I am not taken by tears, but by an odd joy of entertainment. For too long have I adhered myself to these pieces of physical wealth. Yes, through struggle, persistence and consistent efforts I have dawned myself with such rewards. But for too long now, I have forgotten the path I had been taken. I had forgotten the many beads of sweat I spewed from the exhaustion to gain such things. I had forgotten the lonely misery I had fought. I forgotten the friends that lifted me, the moments that tore me down only to bring me higher. I had forgotten the delicacy of a flower. The aromas of nature the beauty within myself and the beauty so naturally displayed around me. So m