His lordship looms,
surfing steadily amidst suffering souls.
Encamped niggardly atop Machiavelian heights,
Resonating from ravenous sages.

With moments of respite far from sight,
Altruistic gurus bound by plight,
Send forth disciples.
Taking enviable spots reserved for martyrdom.

You are fulfilling destiny, they are told.
You are making history,
You are bringing freedom,
Today you become martyrs.
'Death to the tyrant' they yell,
Punching leperous fingers in the air,
surrounded by psyched up cronies,
Dazzled by cheap oratory.

Gob smacked,
Paralyzed with fright,
They watch Idly with no response.
The rising dust;
The sweating man;
The shallow smiles;
A sight all too familiar.

Once again tomorrow's leaders match,
Chanting songs of rebellion,
Rejoicing in battle as the charge into awaiting doom,
Leaving behind brave gurus,
Left to the hazardous task of planning in luxurious dens.

With battle cries seized,
Body counts made,
Looting bags filled,
Castle gates breached,
New machiavelian heights attained,
It is clear,
His lordship has fallen.

Hydra's head lies severed,
Amidst jubilant victors,
Altruistic gurus emerge,
Laying Claims to the ultimate prize.

Behold, the birth of new Hydras,
Alongside new Altruistic Gurus.

This an attempt to portray the typical revolution senario.
Exploring the falsehood of self-serving leaders posing as saviors only to turn when their goal (Power) is fulfilled.
This not saying 'we are doomed' but that true damnation comes from our decision to follow bad leadership blindly.
Furthermore, I am not a fan of revolution. Tunisia, Egypt, Libya are living proves of why.
Read and draw your own inferences.

ayd91:
His lordship looms,
surfing steadily amidst suffering souls.
Encamped niggardly atop Machiavelian heights,
Resonating from ravenous sages.

With moments of respite far from sight,
Altruistic gurus bound by plight,
Send forth disciples.
Taking enviable spots reserved for martyrdom.

You are fulfilling destiny, they are told.
You are making history,
You are bringing freedom,
Today you become martyrs.
'Death to the tyrant' they yell,
Punching leperous fingers in the air,
surrounded by psyched up cronies,
Dazzled by cheap oratory.

Gob smacked,
Paralyzed with fright,
They watch Idly with no response.
The rising dust;
The sweating man;
The shallow smiles;
A sight all too familiar.

Once again tomorrow's leaders match,
Chanting songs of rebellion,
Rejoicing in battle as the charge into awaiting doom,
Leaving behind brave gurus,
Left to the hazardous task of planning in luxurious dens.

With battle cries seized,
Body counts made,
Looting bags filled,
Castle gates breached,
New machiavelian heights attained,
It is clear,
His lordship has fallen.

Hydra's head lies severed,
Amidst jubilant victors,
Altruistic gurus emerge,
Laying Claims to the ultimate prize.

Behold, the birth of new Hydras,
Alongside new Altruistic Gurus.

i think i like imagery of deceptiveness and the fragile pictures of the gullible in the poem
nys piece