Poems about Barbarian

A harsh wind howls over the mountains
But I stand tall, alone and unbowed
With my wild hair and pelts
I am the barbarian, fierce and proud

No weapon can fell me, no man can best me
For I vanquish all with my axe and my shield
Flee now before my might and wrath
To my power surrender, to my fury yield

Like the wild north wind I come
Laying low all in sight
So cower in fear, you soft ones
And flee fast into the night

Oh, so you want to hear
About how at one of these
University parties
A friend of mine was worse
For ware she puked
And was joked at by the hosts
And i ended up going
Into the bathroom and
Pissing on the toothbrushes?

Perhaps at some point
She was in love with
Each of us, individually,
Or different parts of us
That she smashed together
To form a glowing deity
In her mother's pottery barn

This being created was
A blistering hybrid -
A lake water guzzling,
Guitar string swallowing,
Paint brush fucking,
Hair pulling, ring bearing,
Monster in a pair of old fashioned skis

I am a savage;
A knuckledraggervandal.

For me, there is
No comprehensible language
Or agenda.

I, confined to a cage
Filled with senseless clues
Pointing toward oblivion,
Have not encountered the pleasure
Of being free in a frame.

Howling winds push dark sail towards unsuspecting shores! A pail moon shines through dark foreboding clouds. The silence is broken only by the sound of the waves crashing against harden hulls filled with hardened men. Iron is sharpened and steel glistens in the faint light. Dogs howl and the mid-night watchman has weary eyes. Then in a torrent of violence, the barbarians rise up from the darkened rocky shores. Tearing past the watchman as he is cut down by an arrow quick and sure. Into the keep of the unsuspecting, by morning light widows and orphans abound. As quickly as a dark mist they cut through the hobbles of the unsuspecting and hauled away the gold, the silver and the fair maidens. Leaving old widows and young children weeping and in terror that they might return. The quick knife of sure death has plunged itself into the hope of many who did think themselves safe. Now they have withdrawn waiting on the dark seas beneath the howling wind until they strike again.

The Pre-Raphaelite's little brother
That youth who cut his heart
On the dark waters
Every moment he is awake
Xanadu is in danger
Let him lay there.

We all wear the skins of our worst enemy.

Assemble the gang speaking retro slang
Name itself rang future fame and acclaim,
Heard a siren sang, and came to do their thang.
Surpassed and contained,
Unmasked with disdain.
Complaining the gangs to blame,
Restraining, not having shame.
Solve a case with a great appetite,
And dang, an even greater Great Dane

Ancient tombs; the disturbed, unearthed, unbound.
Patience. Soon, absurd will be served by a hound

Unlacing the case til it's off base; the crisis unspools
They'll finally find the place where the ghouls stashed the priceless jewels

Unresting meddling kids testing theories like litmus,
Caught a ghost reveling amid queries for the witness
Get this;

A jealous menace,
Who thought he could fight the team
With a few fake screams
Some fog and a light screen
Once again, dream team hops in the mystery machine
Off to get soda pops and raspberry ice cream