WOUNDS BY MY PIKE

 

This piece of art is based on the Wikipedia accounts on the drunken brawl between Alexander the Great and his friend and General, Cleitus. Its a poetic representation on the perils of anger. Some words used in this are completely poetic and may not have a dictionary meaning, but are used to emphasize the feel.

In the great wars, that I had fought

I had penned down many tales,

Of undaunted spirits, of strategies I used

And of those gallantious males.

Out of the borders of Macedonia

Along the borders of Egypt,

But none before had made an impact

Which today in my almanack I script.

In the grand battle of Granicus

As I was cutting down the foes,

I hadn't noticed but one uncouth

Had prepared his axe for bows.

My mighty sword got stuck in the armour

Of one of the people I killed,

To drag it out was a painful task

So deep under skin it had drilled.

So much engrossed was I in that

I forgot to look around,

Some axe man of Barbarian creed

Had my back, unsecured found.

That would have been my last slaughter

As I would have been laid dead,

Only in time a spear saved me

Else I would have had a split head.

I looked around and found a friend

A loyal commander of my father,

He risked his life to save mine

Hence I took him as my brother.

Cleitus was indeed so great and loyal

So honest and so straight forward,

That even Greek sword, do proskynesis

To such a noble norward.

From that day, Cleitus held my heart

I saw him as a pillar to my dream,

To conquer the world and be its Satrap

And to enjoy the victorious cream.

Unlike others who bowed to my words

I found him against the tide,

He objects my words, when they went wrong

And praise me when I was right.

But times and Zeus had other intents

And make me do a blunder,

That no deed of greatness can ever wash away

In kingdom of truce, it was plunder.

After winning over my rivals

And defeating the Persian fools,

I called for a celebration

With lot of meat and booze.

 

Everyone was happy that day

And cheering and dancing in joy,

However Cleitus was sitting alone

In a corner in his coy.

I thought its best to lighten him up

And assign him a great mission,

To bring the hooligans of northern hordes

To an all in submission. 

I called out, "Cleitus, here come pal

I have a task for you,

Take up those mercenaries of Persian war

And outshine the Greek in you."

To this, I don't know what stuck so bad

Cleitus in his anger frowned,

And said, "You are just a heinous psych

An unfaithful bloody baboon."

Those were such words that I bet no king

Will tolerate, whether crude or kind,

I still asked what had made him say so

Has he completely lost his mind?

But Cleitus was not in a mood of accord

He kept hurling insults at me,

He said, "You are just a failed son

And your father must have no peace.

In seeing how much of a pathetic human

He had ever grown from his piece,

You are a Persian favouring nomad

And shame on the standards of Greece."

I bet I would have thought in other terms

But that day I was in arms of wine,

And the words of Cleitus infuriated me

I forgot all dimensions and time.

I order my men to bring my spears

To teach Cleitus a lesson,

But people tried to calm me down

To pacify the king of the nation.

But only if that brat had some limits that day

He kept blabbering all the odds,

So much so that I lost my cool

And went beyond my own accords.

Fortunate for Cleitus some of my men

Had carried him away from the hall,

Else his words would have cut his wings

And bring him to a stall.

But perhaps Thanatos had made a decree

And Ares has blown his trumpets,

That storms in the hall that filthy brained Cleitus

And blabbers his outburst disgrace.

Enough had that taken, Enough for me

I snatched a pike from the guard,

And sent it flying straight to Clietus

Piercing through his heart.

And in a moment, the garrulous tide

Had stopped hitting the shores,

A silence swept over the theater of joy

As swept the clouds of remorse.

I realized what a sin had I committed

I took up the bleeding pike,

And tried to pierce my own heart with it

And thrust it with all my might.

My men prevented a toppling me

And somehow brought me to rest,

Threw away all weapons far from my reach

And carried me away to my nest.

As I regained my consciousness

All I felt was grief,

A friendship of years had just perished

Over a brawl so brief.

Pain had struck me so hard at heart

I departed all food and wine,

And for a week sustained myself in my chamber

With such a fate how could it be fine?

A man who had been my grand vizier

And a shield in all my wars,

Had to bear a reward so gross

In place of embraces, just scars?

Perhaps no one would have ever known this

But my melancholy was beyond beholds,

Hence I penned down this mistake of mine

And populated like tales untold.

Anger and addiction are so poor foes

They bring all virtues to bleed,

Perhaps heavens will punish me for this

Upon the blood spill of an honest Selucid.

And with tears blurring my sight

Here I close the write,

A wound of war is yet recovered

Unrecovered are the wounds by my pike.

- Lucifer Khusrao (as Alexander)