The SWAMP REVIEW
Sinners Who Hide as Wolves Among Sheep
by Nainoa Kane
Crimson hatchet strikes down, on the facing red-orange sun.
Haggard man soiled a white rose, of crimson resonance
Rain attempts to wash it away, it trickles but hasn’t washed blood—
Doors boom open with thunderous roar, heralding an abrupt organic sound.
Wood benches of the empty cathedral bathed in moonlight of red stained glass—
An old priest in a black-purple robe approached from a void, face red with worry.
When church was buried in darkness, but lightened by the red stain glass of hate—
I could confess my mind, and give my words to a father and he would wash the sin and give my life back
He couldn’t wash sin with bloody hands—
“Father, if I felt nothing of the act I committed, am I responsible?”
“Father, if I felt nothing when peeling his features away, is it insanity?”
“Father, if I felt nothing when scalping for profit, is it truly a business?”
Rain clouds continue to wash outside
Plants birthed from their withered states
Stains echo empty chambers
The man stood bloodier than ever.
Fenrir and the Rebirth of Order
by Nainoa Kane
Disillusioned rulers bark all power
When they tuck tails, I laugh
They see Ragnarok; I witness Rebirth
They see Outbreak; I witness Genesis
They see barbaric; I witness gallant
For every order, a hierarchy of pain
For every disorder, a oligarchy of corruption
The giant wolf buried underground
Chained of fear near-here
His sharp teeth threatens to kill gods who rule him
My unsharp hate threatens to revolt against those that rule me
Unchained of free near-now
The beast is free, let him bring it all down
We suffer; They rejoice
We die; They laugh
We shatter; They patter
I have no shame, if hate rises
Let hate extinguish it
Kill them all, devour them all— as I wish
As the beast falls, it’ll extinguish it all
When both hates bitter, our peace revives all
Bitter falls, cold winters, warm springs, hot summers
Let’s reset disorder to natural order
Let us restore order naturally