GO HARD OR GO HOME
~~~
The Daemon
~~~
Once upon a midnight dreary, as I wandered hot and leery,
Feasting on the souls of humans lost forevermore.
Suddenly I felt an itching, a sensation most bewitching,
A rift through spacetime stitching had the cosmic princess tore.
And legions danced on through the universe's new backdoor.
No inkling could be conjured from my thinking to abhor.
Quoth the daemon, "Souls galore!"
I landed 'pon a world where souls were all atwirled,
Death and blood and fire burning since the times of yore.
In that land were cannons surging, cities wroth with cultists purging,
And the Soldier he was scourging, in his great command of war.
"Old Soldier," said your host, "you lead the mortal corps,
Could I not ask you dearly if your duties you'd ignore?"
Quoth the Soldier, "Nevermore.
"I do not care to know your face, what hellish nation you disgrace,
When you come to me in peace in the stead of righteous war."
From scorn away I went running, troops and guardsmen all a'gunning
As I weaved a thought most cunning, to fool this bunch of foolish bores.
And to the Planner, trapped and lost, the daemon humbly implored,
The secrets of the city hives he nailed upon the planet's core.
Quoth the Planner, "Nevermore.
"Far and beyond these direly straits, a lady by the heavens waits,
To love me when I pass those gates, and not a single day before."
From trust away I went fleeing, tungsten spikes through wind a'squealing
As I thought a thought most freeing, to convince these lousy sores.
To the Speaker all-adrift among the Sirens I explored,
The choices of a kindly fate or godly wrath's uproar.
Quoth the Speaker, "Nevermore.
"I have not lived these ancient years giving in to slightest fears,
Threats and boasts and whining from a spiritual carnivore."
From mockery I justly turned, my mercy's offer cruelly spurned,
I came across a body burned by the Hunter's plasmic melta roar.
Her ruthless way and murdered prey I did happily applaud,
Seeking to entice with the cultist's secret, holy lore.
Quoth the Hunter, "Nevermore.
"The foulest traitor's end to aid, the death of those whose path hath strayed,
I ask it not from some disgusting pink and scaly daemon whore."
From hurt away I fled cursing, my scalds and welts all nursing,
A weaker mind for coercing over in the cities I pored,
A metal Master of the forge I sought to build a swift rapport.
Securing for my darkest prince machines with which men warred.
Quoth the Master, "Nevermore.
"The codes and eretide thinking of old fools are justly sinking,
And will die a death ignoble that I happily ignore."
Puzzled, I went around seeking, followed scents of oils leaking,
Til I found a magos freaking over ancient datacores.
A Thinker, he was thinking, of the ancient knowledge to restore,
Of new and novel ways of thought I showed him to explore.
Quoth the Thinker, "Nevermore.
"Well-trodden trails obsolete, illogical and ill-replete,
With errors of the thinking meat and fallacious thought in store."
Away I fled the metal mind, to find a thinker far more blind,
A brain in skull and flesh entwined, who actually went outdoors.
In the lakes I lured a Doctor clinging to a shell while he implored,
To becalm the turtle flinging off the beasts that came ashore.
Quoth the Doctor, "Nevermore.
"If by forces strange the hatred of the shield king be abated,
A new variable I must add to the scientist's accord."
Ejected, I was lurching, through the cities I was searching,
When I found a shining church in which was mighty
puissance d'or.
'Twas a Preacher who was preaching, hymns and cants, chorales galore,
And I snuck a little whisper, just a single change or four.
Quoth the Preacher, "Nevermore.
"To come into the house of man, a daemon flush with vile plans,
Forsaken are the foolish beasts who by me stand before."
Swiftly I went leaping, dodging light and darkly creeping,
Diving in the mind of sleeping witches puffed with noisome snores.
In his dreams the Seer gleaning much about the cosmic war,
And into his dreaming eyes, I drops of malice poured.
Quoth the Seer, "Nevermore.
"These tricks and traps and weak deceit cannot defeat a true elite,
Begone from me, you vile cheat and bleating, blaring psychic chore."
Away I fled from hefty chasers, through the quiet secret places,
Between the strings of sunlight lace weaving twixt the diamond cord.
The mind of a Burning psyker, where I met a man held indoors,
And I kindly sought to free him, and to give him the waited for.
Quoth the Burner, "Nevermore.
"Out from here," he said, set alight, and I vanished 'fore he could smite,
Flying toward the palace, adorned with poor décor.
I grew a sweep of silver tresses, wrapped my skin in silken dresses,
Assuming the body of the one he did adore.
And as the Ruler saw me whole, slackly fell his open jaw,
Frozen still as I touched his heart and let him touch my—
Suddenly his crown was flashing, suddenly a sword was slashing,
There was a body crashing legless on the palace floor.
The Ruler stormed through sweetly scented blood and misty gore,
And to the heinous daemon he raised his sword and swore,
Quoth the Ruler, "Nevermore."
~~~
AN: poetry is really hard guys
TWO DAYS
edit: FORMATTING
