#mandoade - Hello Poetry

She was met on the battlefield, The blood soaked streets Of some Outer Rim world At war with itself. Tall, dour, resolute, Wholly dedicated to the cause. For clan loyalties and him, If not for her own joy. You were there, An outsider with a job. A name and a face to claim, To buy your meals with blood. His name was the one, The leader of her clan, Cruel man and a revolutionary. Neither mattered to you. There were too many, Too many like her. Scattered family Clinging to hope and life. You shot it down Quite literally And she raged, The most of them all. The job done you could’ve left, Callously jumping offworld With a body bagged And credits to claim. You left lives in disarray though, Throwing more fuel in the fire, Stoking even greater hates And revealing dark plots. A warrior’s name was tarnished By the truth And a bolt to the brain, Courtesy of you. Strained ties led to mutiny, Murderously so against her Who was always faithful, Right to the very end. Her life was bought by your hand Just as it was ended by it, And she loathed you for this. Rightly so, you think. You bought another’s too, A few lives in fact, And for that she thanked you. For that, you stayed. Part of a war Which was never yours You fulfilled your obligation, Your debt to her. Still she hated you As you stood in the field Scorched and hopeless, So many you saved dead. The battle was won But at the cost of clan ties. The hardliners never approved of her, But she craved their trust. Foreigner or not wasn’t a concern Not to you, Nor should it have to them. That’s just tradition. So you extended a hand, A place to stay, The only recompense you had to give, And a cold comfort at that. But she took it, Not calling you sister just yet. Where else had she to run? She, the outcast, soulless and hated. That was the fate of the faithful Who kept to him truly. For he was a chief no longer, Just a villain in a blood war. It was your fate too, The destroyer of all, Family ties and lives, To pick her back up.

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Nov 18, 2017

Nov 18, 2017 at 4:33 PM UTC

aondeug

**** a family to build a family

She was met on the battlefield, The blood soaked streets Of some Outer Rim world At war with itself. Tall, dour, resolute, Wholly dedicated to the cause. For clan loyalties and him, If not for her own joy. You were there, An outsider with a job. A name and a face to claim, To buy your meals with blood. His name was the one, The leader of her clan, Cruel man and a revolutionary. Neither mattered to you. There were too many, Too many like her. Scattered family Clinging to hope and life. You shot it down Quite literally And she raged, The most of them all. The job done you could’ve left, Callously jumping offworld With a body bagged And credits to claim. You left lives in disarray though, Throwing more fuel in the fire, Stoking even greater hates And revealing dark plots. A warrior’s name was tarnished By the truth And a bolt to the brain, Courtesy of you. Strained ties led to mutiny, Murderously so against her Who was always faithful, Right to the very end. Her life was bought by your hand Just as it was ended by it, And she loathed you for this. Rightly so, you think. You bought another’s too, A few lives in fact, And for that she thanked you. For that, you stayed. Part of a war Which was never yours You fulfilled your obligation, Your debt to her. Still she hated you As you stood in the field Scorched and hopeless, So many you saved dead. The battle was won But at the cost of clan ties. The hardliners never approved of her, But she craved their trust. Foreigner or not wasn’t a concern Not to you, Nor should it have to them. That’s just tradition. So you extended a hand, A place to stay, The only recompense you had to give, And a cold comfort at that. But she took it, Not calling you sister just yet. Where else had she to run? She, the outcast, soulless and hated. That was the fate of the faithful Who kept to him truly. For he was a chief no longer, Just a villain in a blood war. It was your fate too, The destroyer of all, Family ties and lives, To pick her back up.

80

What is honor really? There are Six Acts Neatly laid out And clear as day, But what is life really? He ran away, Tossing his soul to the floor To take up their mantle. The Jedi’s, But not lightly. You were thrown In a rage, Neck almost snapped. A shock, But not unprovoked. What is honor really? Is it the Third Act? To protect family, Or maybe the Fifth Of clan wellbeing? You stayed behind Rejecting the Order outright To maintain the Lessons. Your father’s, And so resolutely. He was shot. Your father ran out To cover a mistake. Yours, And so fatal. What is honor really? Is it the First Act? Taking up arms And living martially, Mistakes or no? You say it is him, Your soulless brother Wearing armor of his own. He says it is you, The soul-filled sister Carrying all her guilt.

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Nov 18, 2017

Nov 18, 2017 at 4:32 PM UTC

aondeug

What is honor?

What is honor really? There are Six Acts Neatly laid out And clear as day, But what is life really? He ran away, Tossing his soul to the floor To take up their mantle. The Jedi’s, But not lightly. You were thrown In a rage, Neck almost snapped. A shock, But not unprovoked. What is honor really? Is it the Third Act? To protect family, Or maybe the Fifth Of clan wellbeing? You stayed behind Rejecting the Order outright To maintain the Lessons. Your father’s, And so resolutely. He was shot. Your father ran out To cover a mistake. Yours, And so fatal. What is honor really? Is it the First Act? Taking up arms And living martially, Mistakes or no? You say it is him, Your soulless brother Wearing armor of his own. He says it is you, The soul-filled sister Carrying all her guilt.

41

The blade’s light Lifting’s no feat Fiery sword cutting Carving through transparisteel Steady hand needed Never cutting fatally For the Code. The blade’s heavy Hard to swing Swearing while hefting Till it falls Filling the room red Retching, staring, wondering Warping the Code.

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Nov 17, 2017

Nov 17, 2017 at 3:34 PM UTC

aondeug

Keep to the Code

The blade’s light Lifting’s no feat Fiery sword cutting Carving through transparisteel Steady hand needed Never cutting fatally For the Code. The blade’s heavy Hard to swing Swearing while hefting Till it falls Filling the room red Retching, staring, wondering Warping the Code.

14

There are seven you know. Seven hues, Bright with meaning. Grey and red, Colors of grief, Mourning and remembrance both. A cry and an exaltation. Black and gold, Colors of truth. A blade in hand, Seeking justice and vengeance. Green and blue, Colors of ethic, Steadfast in one’s work Mind on responsibility and consistency. And then there is orange, Shereshoy, you call it You Mando’ad Reveling in life on death’s edge. There are seven you know Yet none fit And so you pick your own A hue for you and you alone. You pick white. Stark, harsh white Clear, visible, no means to hide Nor intent. White of ivory, Of the gleam of Mando iron, The white of bones, Old, picked clean Reminder of life White so bright, brilliant Burning eyes of the dying Leading them back home Back to the Manda Skills in hand. You pick white. White for death, Of death. You are white. White for death, Of death. Ja’haili, ner Buir. Ja’haili ner oya’kare. Kar’tayli ni ijaati gar bajur.

0

Nov 16, 2017

Nov 16, 2017 at 1:35 PM UTC

aondeug

Cin Kyr'am

There are seven you know. Seven hues, Bright with meaning. Grey and red, Colors of grief, Mourning and remembrance both. A cry and an exaltation. Black and gold, Colors of truth. A blade in hand, Seeking justice and vengeance. Green and blue, Colors of ethic, Steadfast in one’s work Mind on responsibility and consistency. And then there is orange, Shereshoy, you call it You Mando’ad Reveling in life on death’s edge. There are seven you know Yet none fit And so you pick your own A hue for you and you alone. You pick white. Stark, harsh white Clear, visible, no means to hide Nor intent. White of ivory, Of the gleam of Mando iron, The white of bones, Old, picked clean Reminder of life White so bright, brilliant Burning eyes of the dying Leading them back home Back to the Manda Skills in hand. You pick white. White for death, Of death. You are white. White for death, Of death. Ja’haili, ner Buir. Ja’haili ner oya’kare. Kar’tayli ni ijaati gar bajur.

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