don’t make me kick your ass

i killed the man behind you
with the fury of the swing
a man’s muscles contract like magic
when swinging a war stick
blood all over not ours
the heart has gone out of the village
we own them
their finest man a heap of bloody rags
you in victory
just before dawn like we planned
now we will eat well this year
the spring of sunshine and mating
with the sullen shocked survivors
the new children will swallow the old
we will flourish and spread across
they all die or starve
at the celebration tonight we crown you king
next year there is a city in the mountains
and many villages in between
i drink to the look of fear in their eyes
and the knowing that for you and i
there will never be peace