General Poetry posted July 27, 2013 |
Gertrude Poem contest entry
The Trolls of Sewer Mountain
by DragonSkulls
Write a Gertrude Poem Contest Winner
The author has placed a warning on this post for violence.
There's a product by the fairies
made of shrooms and elderberries far more potent than their latest batch of dust They turn millions in the profit from the deals they swindle off it with a high extraordinarily robust They add magic to the mixtures In the labs those little tricksters make a powder so enticingly unique And the streets now long to savor the pure sweetness of its flavor and pay dearly for the placid high they seek We've been watching them and countin' we're the trolls of Sewer Mountain and tonight we rob the fairies of their stash Oh, the scene will be amazing as we storm with guns a blazing then escaping as their fortress burns to ash At the rally to prepare us as the dusk veils Fairy Terrace we all gather up our arsenals of war Made of sharpened blades and maces that will crush their bones and faces into tiny little piles of pixie gore They have elves that guard the entries so in stealth we hunt the sentries as the rest of us hide silently in wait With the password softly spoken their security is broken as we leave the last guard choking at the gate Once we breach the inner palace we are met with brutal malice by the strongest of their Elfin Guard Elite Then the walls are rudely splattered when their guts and brains are scattered from the frag grenades we toss in at their feet There is no one left still standing as their body parts are landing so we charge our way into the mansion's core Through precautions that we've taken our main weapons drawn and shaken for the battle that we know is still in store In the chaos of our plunder as the buzzing grows like thunder comes the fairy troops to guard their precious prize They start diving like torpedoes so we douse them like mosquitoes and the bug spray has them dropping out like flies As we stomp the few that flutter all the walls begin to shudder and the doors slam tightly shut to keep us there In a frightful exhibition it was Merlin the magician that we found to be the drug-lord billionaire In an orb of spells and magic he made clear our acts were tragic for his business never will be overthrown Then we felt the whole earth tremble and he laughed at our assemble while he turned our little army into stone So now every horrid morning we're reminded of this warning with the subtle spark of sunlight from the dawn As he strolls we hear him taunting in a voice forever haunting as the ornaments that decorate his lawn |
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