The kicked in door by a polished boot was at least pure.
Where a flag was planted on a broken corpse and printed in its blood.
There were no limp-wristed pretenses or mewling crocodile tears then.
It was some comfort that you might as well have shut up before you died.
Indeed, only the masculine are wielders of such rippling evil.
Jesus sounds like that kid at a glee club before an atomic wedgie…
But Beatitudes is strong stuff,
And God-fearing altruism before Hellfire is some Bruce Lee shit.
Homeland pride grafted onto faith is the word of a wolf,
Bear your cross and be consistent.
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