Facing A Tyrant’s Collateral Damage
IV
So old man, old man
So crusty wrinkled, infirm
You... walking so weird...
Shadows play catch-up;
I guess running seems absurd
In your condition.
Dilapidated
Feet scoured from false trails run
Sun’s set, season’s past;
Wherefore can you go
Since good life went that-a-way
Many moons ago.
Any wet-tears left?
Or are eyes just... dried conscience
Unable to cry.
____________*____________
Therefore, move thy shell aside
Better mystic men are coming through
For we have many, more important places to go...
Than you ever will, or ever did.
Look at your self
Fuzzy, stooped over, slow and obscure…
Surely life has had its way with you
In obtaining such collateral damage
For all see plainly on these rearmost lines of summer’s spent
Any bravery’s once, no longer are worn on your soiled shirt.
Or were brave deeds in truth… was even one, ever... truly present
Versus... just sham medals on shamed dirt?
Did you rise right to challenges
That scoured most men’s very soul…
Losing all loved and cherished
Lost in the rising vagaries of ill times
Suffering sordid events raging around you
That now tired, you just abide by... silenced.
Is this your reason
Or just wall paper for excuse...
Never sounding out a teeny peep, within the shriek heard
Most likely yelling within, your deepest part of guilt...
Your own palace erected there by inner nameless fears…
Housed as such in willful ignorance’s, and allowed hypocrisy’s;
Fearing worse, if found out now a coward
Letting this heard... worse, loosed
Spilling out into the wider, cold world to see…
Truth of your existence, better never to be born...
The World you helped, made foreign
Along so many better others, like me!
I at least know my place, and worth
As a flock of large black crows flew by, calling.
Pleased am I with fresh captive for amusement
While you pay for your abandonment's...
Managing world-peoples nonexistent to their needs
Only to your likes, your loves, your boss, your greed.
At least I, unlike you
Embraced my own evilness’s without dimming sight.
The captive suddenly gave out a pained cry
As he laughing, yanked fiercely on her chains.
Yet, like you, even then when losing
Staying truly fickle in the end, I, only pretending...
While we both truly left searching for new innocents
As if vying for better beaches to lie upon.
I found my best mine to work in magics
And serving dark masters, while you...
Waiting for waves that never come, to clean those garbage sands
That you helped there in heaping.
Thus, did you live... only through your toil, paying oppressive debts
That you yourself dared mount...
Incurred through your own, personal, unholy free choices
Within false presences, wishing more visibility than ever deserved.
Know well, no vote was cast for you
No confession made, no medal
No honor bestowed…
Other than, maybe fulfilling a dog’s request;
A weaker minion needing loving attention
Even if, from other barking slaves.
Did even your wife truly love you
Your children respect your being...
Did your friends stand by you
Or just remain there for the good times…
Making light use of the word ‘friend’
In fake smiles, and weak handshakes on call
Showing only acquaintance
Reluctantly, for what it truly is?
Ethereal, part of a joined game of feigned royalty
Teetering on shared collusions, over the deep depths of Hell below.
Old man, known is your majestic tenure through our past wars
Lustful times, lost jobs, depression, and hungry years shared
Death surely must have visited your door more than once
To so see that scowl and shifty eyes
That glare out into our bright world…
After a night of flooding tears.
With understanding compassion, talk, I have a moment...
Then I can most gladly move on to better times.
Did I say tee time, or tea time, or ‘Be for Me’ time?
Pardon the chuckling, matters not.
I wish to give this day freely chosen
To place kind pity, on one so poor as you…
To show my own good worth
And staunch compassion;
See, I am a lving Soul too
As with any, seeking benefit.
So tell me what wise lessons I may learn from you
So that when I hear, ‘Let Elders speak’...
I can proudly stand the stage too
In loud laughing, friendly, banterings
Regaling those so bold, as to hold steady belief
There is wisdom found hiding in your care...
Understandings... as Values to remember
To learn and grow within…
So that we too become... not as you.
For other’s wisdom… thankfully, was very well deserved
Which is so much more, than you can ever give…
Meaning, fat chance... will your door ever lead to ours.
Still… speak if you can
I freely give you worthy listen
Such collateral damage must be worth something in time…
Though now gated in shadows, finding you here.
____________________*__________________
Facing a possible reprieve
The shade of the past Dread Emperor drew himself together to speak
As the very most Ancient of Days, Gatherer of Souls
Now hidden, too stayed silently close, to listen.
Both smiling, each with a different intent
While the chained girl sat down, glad for the rest.
As the crows returned, silently filling a nearby dead tree’s branch
With even the waters stilled, while the Deep... listened.
Eslavia Valoriou Duetsoksky’n, past Emperor of the Dread
Feeling potential reprieve of some kind…
Composed himself, straightened up
And in a crusty old, crackling voice began to speak.
[to be continued]
Copyright © Brian Rusch | Year Posted 2022