The earnest end

     The voice of Mr Ernest Hemingway: the writer’s hand
A warrior’s dream is to be one with his suffering. Alone in a field, to meet, to greet, to shake hands and to gaze at each other with amazement, then to start the brawl to kill each other in the split second kind of way like the samurai…

Tic tac toe
Paper, pencil & 2
Naughts and crosses
…draw the axes
…dig the holes
…hang by the knot
…hang on the cross

Tit tat toe
Take the gun,
…face the hole
…the kiss of lady Gunhilda
…lay the shells
…spurt the plump bits of Matilda
Fire running in smoke

Now Sweetie’s Dutch dresses on me
…the drunk man’s fist feels my jaws
…the soldier’s cry in my soul
…the gunman’s bullet knows my leg

Now my father’s weight on my back
…my mother’s loathe in my heart
…the buffalo’s hoof sees my chest
…the bulls horn on my shoulder
…the fishbone trapped my throat

Now the drinker’s bottle holds my hand
…the writers pen my only flaw
…mr thunderbolt man knows my name
…Mary Magdalene on my case
…a double barrel pellet pump on my face
…the painter’s brush on my space

Now I will be a part of them forever
Now I will be apart from them forever

Xs and Os
…start the show

Three for me?
…how great the fun!

The hand that takes,
…is the one that gives

Humming the warrior’s
…suffered songs

Yet, when it’s game over
…I am the one.

The voice of Mr Ernest Hemingway: the writer’s hand

A warrior’s dream is to be one with his suffering. Alone in a field, to meet, to greet, to shake hands and to gaze at each other with amazement, then to start the brawl to kill each other in the split second kind of way like the samurai. The ideal circumstance is when the suffering kills the warrior, but it happens at times mostly that the warrior with shame overcomes his suffering and triumphs over it, then he no longer has a purpose in life, neither identity nor point of reflection. It is similar to the unlikely circumstance that a madman could immediately become lucid after a lifetime of of mental illness. As consequence this why a warrior is better off with his suffering thus he remains a warrior, or by contrast if such a case is reality then the warrior himself has to take both positions as also the suffering and inflict wounds on his own self, wounds that will purge his plight of being lost just a while longer. Now as he grows and his creativity slackens which it does, the bravest thing left for a warrior is to take his life, the taking hand being the same as the giving hand. Ideally it can be compared to the unlikely circumstance of the sun would sit under itself to enjoy the beaming light it sheds and to mutter on the warmth it endows.

“Without suffering there is no warrior but a man’s life is a string of rope, slowly pulled towards the inevitable house of death. Yet suffering is a comfort to a warrior for it gives a worthless life a pursuit, thus he at the end with hope in his eyes can say ‘Now, I will be a part of them forever.'”JH

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