Attila the Hun, A Master of War.

From Northern Asia,
decends a horde,
so vast in number,
the very earth shakes.
From the steppes they,
sweep down,
Crushing all that satnd
before.
Like a relentless fever,
they strike down
all.
The Western Empire
stands ready with a
shield.
Waithing to weather the
Hunnic Horde.
The shield lies broken.
The gateway
open.
Soon Rome itself,
may very well fall.
It is not swords
that will stop this
horde.
For Attila is a
master of
war.
It is a simple man,
one of the cloth.
That saves the Empire
from,
Attila the Huns
Unstoppable
Horde.

East and West a Clash of Faiths

Two sides meet,
on the desert plains.
Acity between them,
that they have both,
laid claim.
The people look on,
in silence and awe.
Two armies have come
to claim this city.
Two leaders have come
to secure theri claim.
Both kings of their
land.
Titans of their
time.
One leads the East.
The other the West.
Two worlds colloide,
on the desert sand.
Two faiths, two beliefs
are put to the test.
The Western world is lead,
by The Lionheart,
While Sal-ah-adin,
leads the Eastern
faith.
The Iron Men of the
West,
face the Horsemen of the
East.
The sun rises over the lan.
So commences,
the battle for,
The Holy Land.

Over the Top

The bugle sounds,
the soldiers sise,
from the hellish trenches,
to the wind swept plains.
New men arrive,
full of boyish joy,
they join the line of beaten
souls,
of walking dead,
that were once,
like them.
The bugle sounds,
they line up in rows.
Ready to charge,
their deadly foe.
Over the Top,
the papers say.
An early grave,
is all the soldiers
see.
"Take the fight to the
enemy.
See the whites of their,
eyes."
More like the shells,
from their guns,
as they fire through our,
Line.
The Bugle sounds.
They rise as
One.