To Those Who Look Down Younger generations

I miss the old days when we
Killed for food, land and
Most importantly, religion
And God.

There was an emotion in
Picking a weapon of choice.
Machete to a hatchet- neat.
Practicing all through the day-

All through childhood,
All through life-
To kill sometimes and
Mostly die.

We raised children to be
Brave, raised them to stab
In the hearts and we raised
Them to proudly die.

We took pride in killing
While we stared them in the eyes.
And we saw in the eyes while
We raped their wives,
Daughters and mothers.

And when the onslaught
Stopped for a while sometimes-
In the evenings, on Fridays
And maybe on the first week of
Rainy days-

We had our moments to
Store food, pile up wood
And fuck to breed fighters.
How will you understand?

Your generation, who got it
All easy.
How will you understand
What is it like to live?

Loving dogs, appreciating art,
Overeating, obesity and
Cardiac arrest at eighty?
Is that even a living?

Real living you know is-
Killing, dying, and starving

To death before the thirties.
Debating over gender fluidity..
And preaching your kids
Political correctness.

How cute. Learn from us.
Build bombs and destroy
Cities. Get a life by
Destroying everything.