Ode to liquid fire:
That fills the chest with flames
Of courage to fuel the brave.
Tales flow in bards
By minstrels encircled by tankards,
“Oh, in the depths of the abyss
The Akujine dwells: the sorceress.
She spins her spells of wickedness
Over the lake; there below
The Mountain of Green,
Where the Sterling River flows
Deep into the depths: the lair of Akujine
The sorceress creates her brew
And sends it on the backs of her crew
To mouths of the drunken; unbeknownst to you.”
The cautionary tale is unheard from the minstrels.
The fire swirls in spiraling tendrils
Down the throat; bubbling as it fills.
And as the heat escapes in gusts
Out of mouth the flame erupts.
They laugh and stomp after they cough.
Will they ever have enough?
Another gulp of this elixir
And soon they hear her call.
Trudging along as their body’s quake
On the way to Akujine: the dead and awake.
The invisible man walks into the room
She watches his shadow, alone in the gloom
The invisible man or invisible he seems
She contemplates; and refutes sending a scream