The Cry of All Men

Felling these rushes of adrenaline deeply like the sounds that bellow deep inside my soul. Screaming sounds that bounce off the corners of my mind. And dance wildly like fire in its carnal dance are these things that surround me I hear statements, questions, actions, repercussions, or delusional grandeur. Or they my ambition, hope, or desire I ignored my whole existence.

I am the emperor, King, the great!  Like a horn I demand such recourse threw demonstrativeness. Hearing my merits and rewards like they’re nailed and splattered on a wall of greatness.

Such a wish is a wish of a boy who wants to be a man stammering and shouting at the top of his lungs as if no one heard him. And in vanity found his greatest recourse pretending to be dumb and weak to be approachable to all men he reveres in his heart. A man of weakness shouting to be heard and a strong man crying on the inside in reverent silence.

Men with no sword no shield no greaves or armor is a man that is not prepared for war. I too am this man; I walk naked on the battlefield anyway because I want to fight for the sake of fighting. Not choosing battles properly, and losing the entire war. This a regret that wishes to redeemable and set right threw divine power, action and pronounced steps that we all take in a war to live. Where is my war? What is my cause?

What gives me such recourse, so much vengeance and blood I need to satiate for a reckoning never answered, an action never carried out. This cowardice needs to be atoned for on the battlefield inflicted on oneself and the arrogance of men that shout and stomp over the wills of other men. Blades sharpened wits keen to anticipate attack throughout life. for if fear smelled the dogs of men will bite and bite again, until all men are swallowed whole.

For I am a Leo and my heart should be a lions one that. It must be, it has to be or loyalty and devoutness will falter and shatter in thousands of fragmented glass across a black floor that jeers and laughs in my face.  To be written to be made certain as stone, to become absolute is a whisper in the wind that dances as leaves dance in the unsure time of autumn.

O great evokers summon in me the ancient sound of drums; excite the cries of thousand men running to glory. O great drinkers fill my cup with a taste that is a taste of ambrosia so I too can be satisfied and drink to greatness. O great contenders give me a reason to call men to arms to feel conviction in every strike I make as if my hands were god’s own. O great announcers bring me words to default onto the enemies that plague my mind to uphold things that are dear to my heart. O great igniters awaken in me a fire that is inextinguishable by man and disaster alone. O great gathers let it be known the tools that men need to succeed.  For egos can be expressed and divulged in so many ways that infinity itself cannot fathom therefore the greatness of men cannot be summed in one statement one line one truth and to deny that is to deny beauty of individualism itself.



Filed under J.L.Wanderer

3 responses to “The Cry of All Men

  1. This is like a deep primeval cry from the soul!


    Great piece…

  3. Your fourth paragraph is loud and spoke to me. Your last sentence gift-wrapped this perfectly. Thank you!

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