Scepter Of Authority
© Surazeus
2018 04 10
The cat with long white fur and silver eyes
stretches languidly on the round oak table,
and flips her fluffy tail in slow contentment
at sunlight streaming through the window glass.
The bearded poet in the leather armchair
gazes at the old book through oval glasses
and writes black letters flowing on a white page
like the stream winding through gold meadow grass.
The knight in shining armor on white horse
gallops across the page to face the dragon
that crushes him with jaws of jagged teeth
and drowns him in the river of his pride.
The jester in mottled coat rattles bells
and leads the dragon racing to the dell
where he leaps and swings on the dangling rope
while the dragons slumps, stuck in stinking muck.
Struggling to escape the sucking quicksand,
the dragon roars and claws at broken rocks
while the jester thrones stones to bonk its head
then prances laughing as it vanishes.
The jester stands before the noble king,
who wears gold crown studded with thirteen gems,
who grips diamond-tipped scepter to his chest,
and they glare at each other with blazing eyes.
The jester cries before the gaping court,
"Our grandfather, Meroveus the Wise,
wielded that scepter he forged from white fire
to kill the dragon who threatened our clan.
Though you refused to let me wield the scepter
I killed the dragon with my clever wit,
after it devoured your great champion son,
so now I am the heir to wear the crown.
The ancient law of Titurel, our Father,
declares that whoever can kill the dragon
must be anointed Messiah to reign
as Godfather of our Jesuvian tribe.
Since we were little children of the light
I have loved your daughter sweet Isabel,
so I want to marry her at the altar
and crown her our queen when I am crowned king."
The jester snatches the crown from his head,
wrenches the scepter from his trembling fingers,
then pushes the old man down the stone steps,
and crowns himself before the blazing sun.
The bearded poet pets the purring cat,
and grins, "So that is how the silly fool
outwits the warrior with brains over brawn
to win the princess for his loving bride."
The bearded poet gazes out the window,
watching metal cars that gleam in the sun
glide up and down the maze of Boston streets
while people drive about the errands of life.
"No one ever seems to notice the scepter,
talking instead about the sword and gun,
advanced technology for causing death
that followed the reign of wizards with wands.
The scepter rests unseen in hands of kings,
but I can see in visions of my mind
how the man who was being chased by the dragon
clawed the metal bar from dirt while he ran.
When ancient volcanoes billowed hot lava
the molten metal flowed in rivulets
which cooled as bars shining under the dirt
till the first wizard grabbed one to fight dragons.
He killed the dragon with hard beam of light,
then paraded among the cheering crowds
and sat before them on the throne of judgment,
wielding the scepter of authority."
The bearded poet pours cup of hot coffee,
then stirs in chocolate and ginger tea,
and sits at the window to pet his cat
who curls her loving tail around his arm.
"When anyone ever dared to rebel
and question his authority to rule
he would challenge them to combat of wits
and prove his right to rule with force of power.
The challenger would fight with wooden wand
but he would wield his scepter forged from brass
to break their fragile pride and crush their skull
then sit again on the high throne of judgment.
For ten thousand years of human history
the man who wielded the Scepter of Wisdom
ruled all the great empires that rose and fell,
till the man with the gun came from the mist.
Yet still the kings we see in paintings hold
the diamond-tipped scepter of shining gold
to prove he has the divine right to speak
when he wields scepter of authority."
Picking up the brass poker from the hearth,
the bearded poet parades around his house,
declaring himself emperor of the world,
while the cat watches him with silver eyes.
© Surazeus
2018 04 10
The cat with long white fur and silver eyes
stretches languidly on the round oak table,
and flips her fluffy tail in slow contentment
at sunlight streaming through the window glass.
The bearded poet in the leather armchair
gazes at the old book through oval glasses
and writes black letters flowing on a white page
like the stream winding through gold meadow grass.
The knight in shining armor on white horse
gallops across the page to face the dragon
that crushes him with jaws of jagged teeth
and drowns him in the river of his pride.
The jester in mottled coat rattles bells
and leads the dragon racing to the dell
where he leaps and swings on the dangling rope
while the dragons slumps, stuck in stinking muck.
Struggling to escape the sucking quicksand,
the dragon roars and claws at broken rocks
while the jester thrones stones to bonk its head
then prances laughing as it vanishes.
The jester stands before the noble king,
who wears gold crown studded with thirteen gems,
who grips diamond-tipped scepter to his chest,
and they glare at each other with blazing eyes.
The jester cries before the gaping court,
"Our grandfather, Meroveus the Wise,
wielded that scepter he forged from white fire
to kill the dragon who threatened our clan.
Though you refused to let me wield the scepter
I killed the dragon with my clever wit,
after it devoured your great champion son,
so now I am the heir to wear the crown.
The ancient law of Titurel, our Father,
declares that whoever can kill the dragon
must be anointed Messiah to reign
as Godfather of our Jesuvian tribe.
Since we were little children of the light
I have loved your daughter sweet Isabel,
so I want to marry her at the altar
and crown her our queen when I am crowned king."
The jester snatches the crown from his head,
wrenches the scepter from his trembling fingers,
then pushes the old man down the stone steps,
and crowns himself before the blazing sun.
The bearded poet pets the purring cat,
and grins, "So that is how the silly fool
outwits the warrior with brains over brawn
to win the princess for his loving bride."
The bearded poet gazes out the window,
watching metal cars that gleam in the sun
glide up and down the maze of Boston streets
while people drive about the errands of life.
"No one ever seems to notice the scepter,
talking instead about the sword and gun,
advanced technology for causing death
that followed the reign of wizards with wands.
The scepter rests unseen in hands of kings,
but I can see in visions of my mind
how the man who was being chased by the dragon
clawed the metal bar from dirt while he ran.
When ancient volcanoes billowed hot lava
the molten metal flowed in rivulets
which cooled as bars shining under the dirt
till the first wizard grabbed one to fight dragons.
He killed the dragon with hard beam of light,
then paraded among the cheering crowds
and sat before them on the throne of judgment,
wielding the scepter of authority."
The bearded poet pours cup of hot coffee,
then stirs in chocolate and ginger tea,
and sits at the window to pet his cat
who curls her loving tail around his arm.
"When anyone ever dared to rebel
and question his authority to rule
he would challenge them to combat of wits
and prove his right to rule with force of power.
The challenger would fight with wooden wand
but he would wield his scepter forged from brass
to break their fragile pride and crush their skull
then sit again on the high throne of judgment.
For ten thousand years of human history
the man who wielded the Scepter of Wisdom
ruled all the great empires that rose and fell,
till the man with the gun came from the mist.
Yet still the kings we see in paintings hold
the diamond-tipped scepter of shining gold
to prove he has the divine right to speak
when he wields scepter of authority."
Picking up the brass poker from the hearth,
the bearded poet parades around his house,
declaring himself emperor of the world,
while the cat watches him with silver eyes.
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