warrior poets
fought and fucked
rode and wrote
fierce children of the moment
singing and slaying with equal abandon
no separation of word and deed
a celebration of killing words
spilling from their throats
as easily and naturally as spilling blood
dealing love and lust
in act and art inseparable
honor's ache in strained and sweaty coupling
we touch a faint echo of those days
when joined and moving together
we shudder and sing our own songs
wrapped tight, thrust deep
reaching towards an ancient truth
to fling us into an unknown future
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