Tod

The Panzers have all rushed in to take us down--
Blitzkrieg is the perfect way to suprise, both friend and foe
without any cry not even a whimper--we won't have any recourse
everything leads to that which the old ones, our ancestors say we should fear
Dying isn't it a dance routine from one fleeting existence to the next--
maybe a rhumba or frenzied waltz that those Chicanos cavort to celebrating Dia de la Muerte?

Mishima had it right expiration should be an elegant act
for poets and artists to partake of--
A white flowing yukata marred by crimson droplets,
a swift chop to complete the artistry
of such a delicate procedure.