It seems that everybody is getting into poetry nowadays, whether immigration policy violates the sacred text by Emma Lazarus, who may rise from the dead if it does, and even at this site, we find people bursting out into poem.
And, why not? The art of war is just an extension of the art of poetry.
It is too early for a whiskey and a singsong; let’s wait until at least 7 a.m.
So, how about this one, to warm up?
THE WRATH OF THE AWAKENED SAXON
by Rudyard Kipling
It was not part of their blood,
It came to them very late,
With long arrears to make good,
When the Saxon began to hate.
They were not easily moved,
They were icy—willing to wait
Till every count should be proved,
Ere the Saxon began to hate.
Their voices were even and low.
Their eyes were level and straight.
There was neither sign nor show
When the Saxon began to hate.
It was not preached to the crowd.
It was not taught by the state.
No man spoke it aloud
When the Saxon began to hate.
It was not suddenly bred.
It will not swiftly abate.
Through the chilled years ahead,
When Time shall count from the date
That the Saxon began to hate.
Trumpapocalypse Now: The Advent of an American Usurper at the fall of Western Civilization
Own the collected works of John Saxon, Professor X, Eirik Blood Axe, William Rapier and other counter culture critics, on Kindle, via the link below. Amazon:
The Great Train Wreck of the West
