THE DUTY OF ALWAYS
My fingers stroke the handle of my sword
As they molest the legs of my woman
As they tickle the whiskers of the gods
How I love war, sex and blood…
How it so speaks to me of actuality…
Do I draw the sword? Then use it?
Do I draw to action all I am
And see which side of the Hand I receive
Which Smile I receive Which roar of the battlefield I stimulate
As I cleave into breast clouds and sky
As I clash with lightning legs and thighs
The battle I wage eludes me
But I battle all the same…
And as I may roar the charge against the gods
As I may gently call my lover to me
And find myself in ecstasy of embrace
And entwined with love and defy the universe
And in my happiness
Decide that war is not for me
Unless that war be that to take from me
All that I have fought for
All that I love in this world
All that I find meaning in this life
Then the gods would know rage
The gods would know the mettle of Man
A man of low caliber who howls highly
They would know the value of my blood
From every drop that spills upon the earth
Would they, then, be on my side,
For all time, with love,
The Mighty and Powerful
Nature and the gods
On my side in every battle
Behind me in battalions and brigades
Sharpening my sword after every stroke?
Reinforcing me with every inch of ground I take?
