Archibald at the Terminus

Garbed in a uniform of blue
Dappled with a hint of gold
And, grinning with his asphalt teeth,
(Saliva, a liquid dynamite)
Cyan quivers, shaking rage
Bold and twinned with chaos
The order-general Archibald
Stands, gazing at the gates
Of entropy.

"What madness!" he says,
Enraged and distressed at the
Swirling-grey curtains of light
Soured and knowledged in
The arts of destruction
Archibald, with rhythm-quaver
Syncopated sideways into

Giving form to senselessness
And sprawling forth from chaos,
Became a singularity
Expressed as a wave-length
And burnt through history