The Tartar War (Complete)

Here's the whole thing now. I didn't share Part VIII in 2007 because I didn't want those clowns destroying its serious message with their damn comedy show. And a lot of good it did me. I: The Fog The war that held the nations in a general calamity According to official records, modestly began at sea A slender drop of tartar on a navigator's instrument Induced an incident that would be lastingly significant Away from safe and neutral waters for her taunting exercise The vessel trespassed flagrantly as all onboard remained unwise Where testing of new armaments to better to deploy know how Provoked a hail of angry shots that sharply glanced across her bow The consequential rupture through the highest power's corridor Cost influential delegates their once precarious rapport A trade agreement, months to mend, summarily was voted down As seafood flew in hot exchange before the speaker's sternest frown There hadn't been in ages a dispute sufficiently intense For eagerest belligerents to test their limits of defence Or for a young man restless in the stagnant atmosphere of peace To have a chance to his disgruntlement against a foe release The War Department, drawing on experiences of the past Preferred a cautious strategy above the fury of the blast The volatile voters were secure on the domestic front For the initial ground campaign, the volunteers would bear the brunt The Ministry of Propaganda's offices were set to swell With new recruits impatient to engage their captivating spell Instructions to the masses would arrive from them on channels wide With memos of superiors to use as their unfailing guide Investors scooped a windfall from the market's sudden closing turn At least the ones who had a major stake in a defence concern By gambling correctly on their government's combative stance Their faith in a negotiated settlement stood not a chance In short, the Tartar War was as ridiculous in proper name As it would be for its commencement to on any culprit blame A critical decision bowing to the pressures of the day Of people in a looping chain where no one held the final say II: The Pilot For Captain Scott, familiarity with his patrol's routine Assured him there was no assault he couldn't get away from clean Until he dared to make a second pass at a forbidding base Whose rocket stripped him of his plane to tumble in the clear blue space The wisdom of his cozy school, he had occasion to refute When well above the safety zone, he opened up his parachute And let himself be swallowed in the vast and panoramic scope Descending to the wild wood with bare survival as his hope His landing by observers tracked, his apprehension was a breeze To contemplate his coming horrors left him feeling ill at ease From pushy escort, freedom shocked, with well aimed arrows incoming Delivered by who called themselves the children of the burning spring On disadvantage's behalf, it was their attribute to act Inviting him to share the shelter of a hut from flora hacked Their hieroglyphs depicted as an active torch the local peak Apparently the exit of an incandescent vapour leak The base commander thought the flame too much of an unwelcome draw With hard cement he'd stemmed its hole and made its light against the law And now with entrance to its perch by somber sentries strictly manned A push to take it from the ground was sounder dreamed than could be planned The rescued man indulged in the repose of his idyllic gains Participating in the hunt and painting scenes with berry stains The women were attracted to the stranger from the morning sky And to engage his company were none of them the least bit shy An airstrip added to the base brought powered flight within his range His stealthy raid to steal a plane with tribal help was to arrange They silently subdued the guards, attacking in the dead of night Before the siren sounded, he was in a cockpit, taking flight He pivoted to see that the remaining planes would grounded stay Providing the accomplices the time to make a getaway Then arching to the mountaintop, his payload would ignite the blaze To draw the cheering of his friends and win from them their highest praise III: The Spy By embassy officials had Penelope been proudly bred The same who put the calling of a spy in her attractive head Recruiting her from childhood to eavesdrop on the guests who came For tidbits of importance in negotiations' ruthless game She had a gift for languages that made her the astutest bet To infiltrate the enemy where access to their plans was let Their own assessment would confirm her typing was impeccable And rate her presentation as both polished and professional They hired her to shuffle papers in the transportation corps An area with less of what precisely she was looking for Though movements could be analyzed to military targets glean And her employer dining with a general, she'd plainly seen To get him into bed with her where she could force his secrets out Applying her seductive charm, she masterfully went about The mailroom clerk found her request a difficult one to resist And finally allowed her leave to scan the senders on her list Her prying eye identified the only knowledge she could use Discovering her boss's love for glossy shots of women's shoes The magazine subscription struck the woman as peculiar For he who had no partner he could lavish, in particular The fetish had a deep effect upon the footwear that she chose To wiggle for his warped delight, she shamelessly exposed her toes But he seemed not to notice as he tended to affairs of state Regardless of her podia, he would not ask her on a date Her subtle passes having failed to magnetize his interest Improperly atop her desk she lifted up her pumps to rest The tactic proved successful by the invitation that she found To meet inside his office after work with no one else around The hour reached, she checked herself and moved in for the final kill And found the mailroom clerk instead with drink her cast off shoe to fill He'd buried his subscription in the catalogs of his employ In order to conceal his shame, no matter how he'd spies annoy IV: The Battle The khakis thought their bold assault would take their aquas by surprise With all they had in men and arms, the order came to mobilize Their focus was a stretch of pasture pushing well inside their zone Whose long abandoned soil had by choking weeds been overgrown Their armoured column ground along with disconcerting steadiness As fighters shot past overhead to demonstrate their readiness Morale was high enough for marchers to pursue a lively hymn And in their step to furnish an additional degree of vim But their intention had been known in time for equal force to mass Opposing them in aqua trenches straight before where they would pass Who'd lined the road on either side with crushing cannons to discharge As long the invading army wanted to remain at large Allowed to push as far as to the gates outside their dreary claim Belonging to an area that to their eyes looked all the same They opted to retire to the comfort of the canvas tent From many days of marching had their energy been greatly spent The hopeful promise of the dusk to give an interval of sleep By blazing guns along their flank, would prove impossible to keep A whole division fell at once, who'd occupied their outer row In flimsy structures there condemned to face the muzzles of their foe Determined to their posture keep, the khakis to their camp were bound Releasing planes to terminate the lethal presence on the ground The fires from the payloads caused a cauldron of infernal heat In this successful rescue from an unexpected snap defeat At night, the fell hostilities converted to a gripping clash As hand-to-hand the combat sank and through the ranks the shells would smash Machine guns peppered out on angles bent to wreak a heavy toll And flames engulfed the battlefield to make the demolition whole By dawn, the sole survivor in the middle of a ghastly heap To plant his flag of triumph in the blood soaked surface firm and deep Would find it beneficial to have had a better sense of line When his proud stabbing stake released the detonation of a mine V: The Hate The Ministry of Propaganda's pitch to sell a bloody war Would emphasize the causes that the people thought worth fighting for And where their proclamations wanted substance in reality The gap was filled by repetitions, broadcast to banality The propagandists knew their target did not march or hold a gun But nonetheless by their bombardment could be driven on the run The thing that so insidiously stood to their success negate Was any love that would not yield to wartime's sweeping tide of hate An artist with a piercing view his hand was given to uphold Had found a modest corner where his outlook could the crowd behold Believing it important to sustain the virtue of his side With others who would grow until they spanned the nations far and wide Unable to withhold his insight, graphic images he drew Of ultimate futility and foes who suffered losses too He found the overstatement of the enemy's exclusive blame An insult to his wisdom and a source of patriotic shame To minimize the menace of his surging popularity His image was beset by the defacers at the ministry They used his plain humility to say his voice was fit to shun And to explain his poverty, a litany of lies were spun Although this made the people shy to hold him up for broad acclaim The source of their enlightenment for most of them remained the same To thwart his work's proliferation, shortened did the hours grow Which pressured his detractors to purloin his whole portfolio His honesty as manifested in expressions that they took Gave their corrupt dissemination the more veritable look Consigning him to suffer the appearance of a filthy fraud And fierce rejection from the many tricked to think his word was flawed His shining view befit a shadow blanketing from coast to coast His love more like an incantation able to subdue a host The harm of their outrageous crime brought no guilt to the culprits' mind Belief in their illusions to their wrongdoing had made them blind VI: The Captives As prisoners, the soldiers knew their loyalty was under threat From punishing effects of the interrogations they would get Though sworn to put the obligations of their cherished country first They soon forgot their duty, once deprived of sleep and mad with thirst To look upon and be reminded how much worse might be their lot Hung poor McGregor's beaten form, exposed to sunlight burning hot For his refusal to accept the terms of capture he'd been shown Kept just alive enough for the capacity to wince and moan Their camp hewn out of timbers offered nary an amenity But living standards lowered to the point of inhumanity Which made the prospect of employment at the harsh munitions plant By contrast to alternatives, seem positively elegant With heads averted to avoid the shame imposed by their brave mate They shuffled past him, headed for relief beyond the wire gate To diligently arm the menace to their land with deadly strength Determined not contemplate their moral sturdiness at length They'd have to take on slavery to get an ordinary meal But unobstructed scenery allowed them to like free men feel As they stretched out their stiffened legs and gulped the vitalizing air Permitted to at least enjoy their passage through the thoroughfare The ragged file disappeared inside the great facility To each survive another day, assured of their ability As friendly troops advanced to liberate the camp they left behind Wherein McGregor was the only prisoner that they would find From his condition they could tell that to his honour he'd been true And asked him if the whereabouts of other prisoners he knew Unable to reply with words, his index finger was unbent To indicate the vague direction that his absent comrades went Above them, on the line he showed, flew bombers on a dour pass Against the largest maker of the enemy's most toxic gas A distant blast begat a frown on he who'd chosen death to face And of the ones who'd clung to life, adorned the final resting place VII: The Profiteer Protruding through the lapping waves to furnish a clandestine breach The captain's trusty periscope confirmed the target was in reach A convoy of disjointed freighters, chugging out to open sea With foodstuffs and cosmetic goods, according to the registry The captain was a peacetime merchant whose connections guaranteed A share of profits for increasing areas of market need By raising prices of the items that were smartly stowed away His submarine was out to make the customers unfairly pay Inside his blazer was a letter sealed with an exotic stamp To tell him that his son had been incarcerated in a camp Relieved to know the war would end with his domestic life intact To build a fortune for his happy homecoming he now could act With speed enough to overtake the portly vessels from the back He chose the nearest and began manoeuvring for an attack With toothy swimming predators he was compelled to think alike Engaging forward thrust until his ship was in the range to strike Once bearings had been passed to guide the men on the torpedo bay The captain's order came to fire on their unsuspecting prey Again he checked his periscope to know the rightness of his aim And smiled at the sight of a direct hit's swelling orange flame A message came through on the set from uppermost authority Which over current exercises strictly took authority It told him that a freighter holding captives rather than supplies Was passing through his sector and to not be fooled by this disguise A panic overtook him as he pondered his potential loss But of his situation he was still the undisputed boss Commanding his compliant crew to surface and to pull astern Of she which they had doomed, in order to her cargo's nature learn The divers swept for scattered clues as flames expired undersea Returning with the sole survivor of the morbid tragedy His uniform's design and colour with their own appeared as one But sadly he could only speak of bunking with their captain's son VIII: The Toll A healer's life superbly fits the most compassionate and kind Which may explain the line of work that Doctor Good had been assigned No patient needing urgent care was ever turned back from the door Of his civilian practice which was discontinued by the war Since then he'd brought the skills that complimented his humanity To minister to wounded at the crux of the insanity Where time imposed strict limits on the quality of his support And pressures from the battle's turns began his vision to distort The worst occurred when he had nurses out with him to make a call Into a circle of the foe disastrously their truck did fall Their rescue came from friendly troops who'd strayed from a position far But not until assaults against his nurses tore an ugly scar The leering overseer with a face that he could not forget Eluded capture and was thought to be marauding freely yet His failure to protect the nurses soured their relationship And made the doctor pray the fiend would be delivered to his grip With peace talks threatening to end his chance to even up the score He changed his gloves and indicated he could take one patient more From out of fallen foreigners whom no one else could tell apart The man upon the gurney sent a heavy shudder through his heart The strutting rapist was by bullets weakened and in nagging pain As Doctor Good pulled down his mask to let his patient leer again The galling face's look of shock eliminated his last doubt Before the funnel for the gas would cover up its helpless pout The wounds had not been critical until extended by his knife Which went to work dismantling the organs that sustained a life For Hippocratic obligations, this sick case would not be spared To wake up in the post-op ward and learn that peace had been declared Whatever prize might be pursued by men-at-arms at any date However with potential or adventurous to contemplate Is certain to exact from them at least a disappointing toll At most, the unconditional surrender of the human soul
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© 2007, 2016. Verses and Images by David Skerkowski. All rights reserved.