I know this travel/ travail, and my armour
being the trappings to tolerate the jungle;
even a jumble of deeds resonates, like
fierce howls of wolves. The battle cry
is no herald of victory, for a Trappist
who retained his austerity but forgot
his silence. My Goddess has sensed
my frugality of action turning into friction!
She cautions me, but leaves me to my
own devices. I am Platonic in love,
but how long can I be passive in war.
My Goddess insists she must be no
guiding star for sea-farers as much for the
beasts of land. I thank her for her ambivalence!
I assure you I am more confident in her
dispassion than her flattery and then, deceit!
But she will be my Goddess all the same!
And would Dad (and son) be a silent spectator as well?
And mother assures me muteness, but she still fears that I am no funk, and I am too unforgiving.
I can only say to all those faggots who keep their fork-tongued posturing by morphing their fakedom in transvestiting
I have shattered their premise by calling myself
nothing and everything, even be or not be a bat out of hell!
Treachery has no horns, it looks pretty as a peach
Like all the alluring goodly propaganda that wants, to all of you, teach!
But I am so sure that even I can bewitch!
Their apparent beauty has only a presence;
Bravery is eternal, and astute it its constitute
Everyone warns me, there is much probability of defeat!
Even my Captain-King (Trump) says he must part ways with me,
if I should wage a war; Let it be! Let it be!
I tell you all that you must know, that I have thrown the
gauntlet at evil treacherous Saint Paul who perennially capitalises on my loyalties; that I am very much a reincarnation
each time that to death I must go!
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