[Iconik]

So I wrote a poem earlier today and after I finished I gave it a quick read and realized that it could pertain to Malazan. Omtose Phellack and Jaghut to be more precise. This was unintentional but realized that I should probably try and do more of these but on purpose! Here it is:



they are all dead now the heroes
hung out to dry in the wind,
thawing and smelling of tundra.
the air here is dry, reed like, thin,
but heavy.
so heavy as to suffocate a man.
but not the heroes.
we kill them ourselves.
they die on their knees genuflecting
to gods we killed thousands
and thousands and thousands
of years ago.
that's the funny thing about heroes.

great fists of ice thrust themselves up,
breaking free of the earth
carrying on glacial breath the
lies of mankind.
hoary, crystallized lies.

we appeal to heroes and gods but
their names get caught in
our throats.

[deathbyninjas]

I wrote a poem about kruppe (spoiler):

The Death of Wit


On a damp, dark night,

A man stands barely in sight.

Garbed in a long black cloak,

He is a story of the common folk.




His wrath is such to cause fear,

And all will run who thus hear,

Except for one man, and that is I,

Who stands firm with such wrath nigh.




The man is naught to me,

And he knows, for he can see

That I dwarf him indefinitely

And he will not stand his ground,

When I come strolling 'round.




And as I sit atop my mule,

I know endless rule,

Though I choose to use it naught

Lest I grow arrogance fraught.




Yes, humble Kruppe is not vain,

Some also say he is not sane.




But that matters not,

For Kruppe's stomach fought.

It fought an epic battle with wit

and the brain took a deadly hit




A gut rules here now,

Kruppe's