Yawwnnnnnnnn, what a pleasant rest,
Better polish up my glasses and read the news posts that I missed.
Good gods, seems I've received correspondence while I slept,
Better write back; the Cyrenians and that Mhaldorian seem upset.

Three Cyrenians pile on and a Mhaldorian rushes in,
An arrangement rare to see outside the Brass Lantern Inn.
Get the ants out your britches, your undergarments out of wads,
I'll proceed chronologically through these four v one odds.

1
Ah, High Artiste, I didn't know I had a fan,
She remembers my humble start, in tenebrous Hashan,
How'd you like the autograph on your copy of my plan?
Every point presumed without consulting the draftsman,
So sad when your worldview can't extend past your arm span.

And Lo! She speaks loudly of hypocrisy!
A word that comes easy for those mired in complacency.
For you see, good work is found out in rocky seas,
Not dry docked for ages in your fort of mediocrity.

But it's ok! You refuse to toe Their line,
Redemption is available for those who've got the drive.
For all others, His fires at hand to cauterise,
And excise remora from all Creation's underside.

What's left after we've cast you back into your pits?
Don't worry, Artiste. Doubt you'll be around to see it.

2
And who's next? An Imperiate Emeritus?
So many honours to his name, leave some stuff for the rest of us!
How'd it feel to serve three decades then have your bubble bust,
Each senators vote in your back, like a red hot knife thrust,
So much for your service, just left out in the snow to rust.

But enough! Let's get down to your argument,
I can read loud and clear your overly captious sentiment.
An old dragon's drivel, an argument for impediment,
Against those who'd clear the river of lazy laying sediment.

Once you did strike true, hit the nail right on the head,
I AM a hammer placed in Their Hearth's outstretched hand.
The Dawnlord sent letters, your usurper hadn't a bird to send,
So Their army marched in, to upend, your creaky ol' homestead.

A barnacle on Creation, you ask for the grand design?
We'll knock y'all off the hull and fly on up the coastline.

3
At last, the old campaigner critiquing couplets,
Soldiering bravely to the boards with his half-thought tercets,
How 'bout next time, you choose to be terse instead,
Even finishing your hanging threads would be a vast improvement,
Say the words out loud, prevents sounding like you're in your goblets.

But, well met in kind, your reputation does proceed ya,
Bannerman of Cyrene, high lord of the arena.
You know, you've a whole house that could help you with your schema,
It's ok, words can be hard. Maybe try the ocarina?

You've left the safe confines of your normal friendly spar,
And rattled off a flock of facts of where our territories are.
A noted study of others, I'd sign up for that seminar!
But I'm still looking for what you've done, out searching near and far.

If you want to finally help, then I'll go out on a limb.
And request those metal pillars 'cuz you're certainly not using them.

4
After those Cyrenians, someone offering exchange,
Some western educator, a lapsed Tyrannus in dotage,
Harping on his prowess but all with attacks at range?
Even our novices can help out in the melee stage,
Shouting must be easier when you always disengage.

You speak of cruelty? You've sure shown it in your writing,
Give it to Theoren, words an executioner should be reciting.
Watch the flock sprint to red square, something new! Exciting!
Only to find this stultified pap, heartstop inciting.

Somewhere there in your "lessons" you talked about the strongest,
Not really sure who you meant with your locutive largesse.
We're fighting on four fronts while your out trying your hardest,
Contending with a village over some bits of river and forest.

I'm truly glad you're plugging on after your de-coronation.
But if your aiming for a poet's life, I suggest an easier vocation.


That said and done, time to get my kawhe at the Grinds,
Think this time I'll give a try to one of Jimothy's rarer finds.
But I'll skip the sugar, decline star anise and molasses,
Today I flavour my kawhe with a bit of all your ashes.

Penned by my hand on the 19th of Aeguary, in the year 955 AF.