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Embarrassed by our own perceptions,
we speak crudely.
In factories, in field and gym,
glad to fuck you up.
That author/murderer confessed,
the time he stabbed another zek,
through bone and steel expressed:
he felt the trembling in the other breast.
to Adam's fingertip jump-start.
Yamamoto Tsunetomo would have held,
it right to take his head.
But check out what he said.
Mark of a sensitive soul, that's better dead.
Editorial writers of a certain bent,
think war a thing that men invent,
from boredom, greed or discontent.
The argument these girls pursue,
is not with me, and not with you,
but with our maker, and their own nature.
The cycle of violence they lament,
will not resolve should we relent.
Jihad tourist punks display,
wanton cruelty as child's play.
Pleasure! Pleasure! Give me more!
that's not what men are really for.
All will die; there's no escape.
A man knows things worth dying for.
Foolish ideas of my generation
litter this country like tinder.
Masked thugs grab power:
stillness manages the threat.