On the Ropes / This One Too

1       On the Ropes


In the devastating wake
of generations of acting
above and beyond the law;

       of beating people raw
       with the back alley gloves
              of economic bondage

              — gloves whose drubbing gifts
              are blood  sweat toil and tears
                     from the debt-propelled fists
                     of servitude and drudgery —

after countless years
of relentlessly unrepentant
       unprosecuted thuggery;

       of systematic brutality;
              of the robogoon reality
              that is the worldwide reach

                     and unrestrained scope
                            of its financial predation;
                     of its subjugation of nations
                     and the crushing of their hopes

after so much time
refining legalized crime
the late-stage empire is bound

       to soon be found on the ropes
              getting pummeled to a pulp
              by depredations from within

       the ineluctable result
       of pervasive debasement
       with its flagrant pursuit and exaltation
                     of consistently unpunished sin.


Chillingly matter-of-fact
in delivering   its notoriously unabashed
       “take it or leave it
       but if you'd rather the latter
       you won't live to grieve it”  ultimatum

when conducting  — often all too openly —
       its accept whatever we offer diplomacy

the imperium
— singularly skilled  at imposing its will
              and drunk with degenerate clout —

       having never been brought to account
              and on the verge of flirting
              with getting soundly knocked out
                     — on the brink of its currency
                     losing its world-reserve crown —

begins  its final ignominious round
to the imminence of its pending defeat

       the so-far-unstoppable champ
       of global control and oppression
                     convinced it won't ever be beat

as it sets its aggressive
overreach-depleted  unsuspecting self up
       for a limp   out-cold crash to the canvas
from an overdue hubris-fueled bite
of a knuckle-stuffed  jaw-smashing sandwich.

2       This One Too

Inescapably incapable  of self-reflection
allergic   it would appear  to introspection

like all downward-spiraling empires
       as they make their belligerent
       obnoxious  sot-in-a-crystal-shop way

stumbling   from one self-inflicted
mishap to another
              through the shard-littered clutter
                            of their late-phase decay

this one too  — like all senescing empires
              newly embarked on their course
                            of rapid  fated fading —

       was predictably quick to resort
       to blaming  this or that external force;

was quick with reflexive
ever-more-desperate deployments
of dishonest promises  hollow slogans
and beyond-preposterous finger pointing.

This one too
— on the threshold of wholesale implosion —
would soon be reduced

              to a paragon   of precipitous fiscal
                            moral and cultural decline;

to a symbol of social corrosion   spiritual rot
and the normalization of uncurbed corruption;

       to an incredible  shattering spectacle
                     of swaggering self-destruction.
From his lofty perch near the top of the earth, Korvus observes the whirling world of humans, with equal parts wonder, disgust, and amusement. Korvus is the author of the unpublished book "RED PILL POEMS: The Poetry of Empire, Politics and Power" and may be reached at ravenzroost@protonmail.com Read other articles by Korvus.