Founding Fathers

There were no blueprints in those early days;

Just ragged tomes and scrolls from eons past

With cryptic jargon and philosophies

Of overstated misbegotten text.

The pieces are all there in scattered scrawl

Laid out before the gathering to weigh.

The gallant and outspoken breathing fire

As they beat their chests and cry for liberty.

Consensus fails to fill the room with glee
And harmony is but a poltergeist
Who manifests in vague chimeric veils
To dance and shift and gel to solid type.

And in the end their grand epiphany  
Befits the will of all who would be free.

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Valhalla Awaits

The Ancients conceived and believed in the dream of
A golden land where the vanquished abide,
Those hero-inhabited hallowed halls,
          The splendor of Valhalla.
And the warrior weathers the
Flames of distress without fear or regret
For he knows in the end
His reward will surpass any
Wounds he may bear
As honor becomes his most trusted friend.

With valor and verve, he soars his spirit
To unnerving heights on rarefied air.
No task too consuming,
No quest out of question,
He fights the brave fight to
Defend what is fair.

He must not fail.
He will not fail.
This valiant sentinel of war.
And when his sword and shield shall rest
He strolls Valhalla forevermore.