Glory damn your rage

Glory damn your rage

As fire splutters in the grate

There is no respite for the weary

Old soldiers wasting their fortune

On sorrow

Too late to worry now

So sayeth the old crone

Tending to her trinkets

Different mementoes

In memoriam of other scars

Suffering is never as exclusive

As the old songs say

A battle is never simply over

Empathy is not a given

Even for the knowing

All lives leave a havoc

Of destruction

Laying waste to youthful dreams

Twisting every melody

Into a dirge of endless grieving

Pretty widows standing

All in a row

Graceless heroes limp along

With misdirection

Never mind the truth

Glory is a mindless thing

War is for the living

Even as the peaceful play

With one another

Plotters stoop to conquer

Kings beget Queens

Who wear the robe of Emperor

As well it suits

The rakish smile

Of any bloody youth

Who cares to call the favour

Bring to me thine honour

As it spills so easily

In crimson rivulets upon the floor

From the moment we accept

The gift of a silver shilling

Bend the knee

Forget the simple pleasures

Once upon a time

Is meant for children

Who might all just as well

Be dying

For the time when they too

Will wear a heart

Upon a sleeve

Until they find a saviour

Remnants of their fury

Will never die

Even as the old fires recede

Embers wait for stokers

To replenish a flame

That lies deep within

Distended bellies

As still, this damn rage continues

Intertwined, with the pain

Of never ending.