Just Do It

Having never fought anything except myself
I am not sure what it is to kill anyone else;
Though I’ve killed millions in a puritan’s lifetime,
That life is not mine; it is usury for the blood from christ’s time.
Battered and wrapped in a thorny laurel leaf,
Accepting of all things, sins,
Whatever was not mine to give;
So that I may borrow on a poorly stamped coin
In Gaul or Aragon,
Mauritania or Palestine,
Thine own Thames of savage time.
Marred low by Mar’s low
Brow beating in which cuts
Had only to feel dug like fossils of ivory.
Whiteness spreading.
Cleanliness meaning dead.
Eating all that which is thrown out to be fed,
To those who do not eat;
Only souls stamped on to repeat
The flight of nike by a white man like me.


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