Di Leva Thomas
The Cruel Pyrrus
The Cruel Pyrrus in a raven-black armor
Black as his soul he resembled the eleventh night
Naer he laag goemd in the Trojan horse
It was the cruel Pyrrhus
Now his terrible form is smeared
With the horrible signs of death
& his armor now shines in crimson
Of the blood of fathers mothers sons daughters
As congealed to a crust without the heat
From the streets of the city on fire
& mercilessly drags a murder into the light
In fire & flames burning with hate
Twice as big as all that aer of blood
Pyrrhus advances like the devil & seeker
With a horn of glowing coal
The old king Priam...

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