Britons Afire

Poison, a means to this so bitter end.
Stand defiant around death. No pikeman
Will your flesh and at last your spirit rend.

The first rape ichorous upon your tongue:
Virgin women, your nation, your daughters.
Too many and more final dirges sung.

War-painted faces, same daughters reclaim-
Ambush, metal and wood crack. Success.
Travel further. A rape for a rape. Flame.

Camulodunum burns. Reinforcements.
Escape, to the plain. More to take, to free.
More soldiers seen, call upon the ancients.

Phalanx finds Celt fury. Willing to die.
death for briton death for life death for rage
Slaughter- Retreats- Viscera- Fear cry.

O, Warrior Queen, drink the loss of Celt.
Poisonous hatred crashes through the veins
In your slowing heart: every crime felt.

Fall, Boadicea. Your fight is done, lost.
Roman and Celt in arms. Honor the cost.