Fifteen pages in total await, with two devoted to cover and credits,
leave thirteen, all suffused with content galore.
This must have required a gazillion of edits...
Why? Let's not tarry and read more!
Now this is unlike any of its brethren before,
even though I've reviewed more than a score.
You see, there's magic in worlds uncounted -
and on others, you'll find mechs, laser-mounted.
But in this world, which sees its fair share of strife,
reigns but one principle: Poetry is life.
And yes, let me state this brief and terse:
This whole book is written mostly in verse!
Where the forces of nature itself align,
and pentameters grow the waves,
with the fair muses' gift so sublime,
there is power is the lowliest staves.
Many lands and places dot this world,
courtesy of the fair poet's powers and that of their muses.
Granted, some of them may seem quite absurd,
but rules are provided for these roles and their uses.
The muses, symbiotically sustained,
by the poet's toil and victories
ensure that reality's maintained;
thus comes to life each of their stories.
The mistress of this wondrous land,
is neither mad, nor wicked witch or empress;
but beware if you plan to make a stand:
Mary Fair, of Copper Hair, commands legions, diverse and endless.
Among the skies of this weird world,
the fractalox fly free:
Embodiments of poetic math
suffused with chaos theory.
We get stats for the most common of their ilk,
gliding on tendrils of perfect polygons,
through skies, blasting foes with their photons,
silent, as a hand on purest, cold, silk.
Beyond the lands of far and wide, this land sports a nasty, mystic pox!
It scavenges your mind and rattles your thoughts, makes you want to eat your socks!
Fans of classic simian islands will get my drift; but wait a second, before you sift
through the internet's ether to research - I will state it here, all loud and clear:
The wretched fruit and color and word - all may infect your being,
as Orange, here, is more than all of these, more than a verbal sting:
It could be symptom or cause of most terrible afflictions - reality rejects it,
as your poetry crashes and you try oh so hard to correct it.
It may brand you an outcast, a leper or worse,
In this world that's governed all by verse.
From Meadowland to Newfangle Town,
you'll only be greeted with a sneer and a frown.
Perhaps, the one recourse is then, not to exert a poetic spasm,
but to visit instead, Ceasura's Chasm?
The space, that lies between all things,
where in absence, silence sings.
Obviously, we conclude,
anything other would be rude,
with a nice table of a concise summary
of rules of the world Poetica Mundi.
Conclusion:
Editing and formatting are top-notch, I noticed not a single botch.
Two columns of text on each page,
provide this text's content and stage
and you don't have to be a scholar to appreciate art most gorgeous, all in color.
You won't have to scroll through this in crawl
there's a bookmark for one and all.
This inspired book by Matt Banach,
had me cackle with glee like a manic.
Please be lenient with my butchering of verse
shill out the low asking price from your purse.
This is my favorite in the whole line,
if this were bound paper, I'd kiss its spine!
I can't really praise this too high -
5 stars plus seal from this German guy.
Thus, I remain your reviewing kraut,
sincerely yours,
Endzeitgeist out.
