Life's Odyssey

I’ve often pondered about you Salvador Dali, what

was your state of mind? Audiences gaze at creations

engineered by your dreamscape conscious.

Were you insane? I stand next to vanity, clothed

in his jester suit, sipping red merlot, looking intently

at the postered wall, bitterness settles on his lips from

the fermented juices. Were you bitter Salvador,

bitter like the juices? Your madness creates psychopathic,

twisted hieroglyphs floating in the endless sea of your

imagination. Were you twisted like your subjects

painted in exile, distorted, begging for freedom from

the vortex where you imprisoned them? No, you

were just an artist.

Sword forged perfect for wielding hands

Lion adorning a shield of gold

Ebbing life blood in a circle of stone

A gladiator’s honor forever preserved.

For the glory of Rome

For the glory of Rome

We men will die

For the glory of Rome.

Legions of soldiers marching into eternity’s breast

To Germainia, to Gaul, Caesar will guide

Britannia to Egypt, an empire’s arms embrace

Reminisce of victories forged.

For the glory of Rome

For the glory of Rome

We men died

For the glory of Rome.