If you would look around you (scroll up,) you would notice that we are in Hell …
Christians aren’t welcome in Hell. Why do you troll?
Hey! I said one line at a time.
This qualifies as the last one:
“That’s what we called the pods over the genetic combinations of horse and elephant that we had created.”
this sounds very Homeric, so I approve.
Please, restrain yourselves assholes.
Punk is not dead
FC, this epic poem turned to 1st person narrative… perhaps this needs to be explained? Maybe it is dialogue from one of the characters?
Ah yes, like in an introduction to the chapter, perhaps.
“Chapter one: X and his posse set out to do Y. The poet take on the perspective of X.”
Who is X? What shall be the name of our hero?
Wait, I forgot how the poem went…
The light disappeared from the roads
we snorted until dawn made us crawl back into our sarcophagi
That’s what we called the pods over the genetic combinations of horse and elephant that we had created.
[ and ok let’s allow ]
Sarcophagi… the chariots pulled by steeds of Hell.
[ and maybe ]
We’re on our way to Hell to pick up fresh feed for the steeds
[ I don’t like this Raymond character. I’ts not an epic name. ]
Twenty thousand ivory-skinned prisoners from the weeping city in our trail
The white ashes from the funeral pyres covering their faces.
*We were?
I say we wait to see what else he (or she?) says before giving himher a name.
Yes, good.
Their barbaric laments no match for the all-swallowing wind, meeting us head on.
If you really ask, no.
A wind from the North, and the Northern Gods…
If you really ask, no.
I meant that we should keep verb tense continuity. Though maybe not doing so would give it a nice bardic touch…
The gifts we brought them made them howl across the plains.
Among us, only Galdria, though remaining conscious, recoiled in fear.
Ah I was thinking in logistic terms, whether it would be practical to have steeds that have to be fed in hell.
Then there was Barbeuth, openly cursing the Gods.
A sleet of mechanical death showered the plains, and their [the Gods’] invitation was clear.
The terror from the sky could not prevent Barbeuth from singing.
feel free to kill Barbeuth in the next line.