The Ruinous Thoughts of the Orc Master

Master Orc, no great contemplator is he
it is plain for all those not witless to see
small mind is his, smaller the thoughts he thinks
Leader of an Orc gang which sleeps forty winks

The Orc band spreads fear in the fertile plains
as the Orc Master smiles his reptilian smile
All semblance of former ordererliness wanes

Dreadful is his mindscape, more so his plans
loathes he all the noble races,
"Apt for slavery, they are" he thinks,
when he sees terror written on their gentle faces

His axiom is Mordor's imminent victory
and from this rises for us to analyze
his personality's demented psychic trajectory

Sauron launches forces upon enemies to detract
lands and freedoms, or so does Orc Master think,
unknown to Orc Master they shall soon retract
when the Dark Riders bring One Ring back to the brink

Mere beguilements are these invasions
to push in the Nazgul deep into the lands
troop deployments mere distractions
for the Dark Lord's larger designs

For Sauron is no leader in battle
fell dark, plotter is he, no general
his last combat he had to scuttle
alas the Orc leader, of this fact is ignorant

Knoweth not the Orc Master, the deed of Isildur
who returned the Dark Lord minus a finger
smote his digit at the siege of Barad-dur

This attack, merely is but a ploy,
to attack the unworthy One Ring keeper
to partake in his foy

Plots the Orc master great ambushes
Orcs upon Wargs and on foot, shall attack
Alas, those shall merely remain his wishes

We venture into what is his current thought
of what lies closest to Orc Master's heart

Thinketh he grievous thoughts of great wickedness thus...

I bring pillage to all the yonder lands
runs everyone, helter skelter on seeing me
their blood freezes when I bare my fangs

Was not born I, from a mother's womb
the Dark Lord's sorcery led to my nativity
know not I where shall be my tomb

A cog in a large war machine,
my only purpose,
to protect Mordor's fearsome sheen

So strange are the concepts of the subjugated
the humans speak of freedom and courage
yet they are defeated and their brows corrugated

The Elves speak of nobility
yet we unsettle them with our ambush
almost with frivolity

I loathe their "concepts" and desire for order
my creation goes back to Morgoth the Constrainer
is not my nature to play a peaceful restrainer

Smashing their heads and their self-belief
marching we go into their valleys
no restraint, relentless, no relief

Aided by Balrogs, Wargs and the lot
until Middle-earth is dark enough
till then it is assault, sacking and plot

Town after town we shall take,
village after village
rape, murder , looting and pillage
Till the day when on Minas Tirith,
Is seen the Dark Lord's visage

For soon the denizens shall awaken
fathoming that the conquest has ended
Middle-earth is Sauron's, it is already taken

One day of Barad-dur shall Sauron take leave
all masterful, king of all, all shall be his
and from their cages, our enemies shall forever grieve

Deserveth they the wretched fate that awaits them....