New Occidental Poetry

On Iron

Then-I strained myself again and again.
Burdens lifted, jeers of women, punches thrown, mockery of men
 Eyes  full of sweat and hatred, an endless journey for an impossible goal.
The celluloid titans of my infancy, they I could only dream to equal
Hours spent in the agony and the ecstasy.
I fought to master the iron, and to master me.
Flesh now stronger than iron, with all my heaves, strikes, and groans
My eyes were on the horizon, my feet longed to trample the world's thrones
Now-my labors have born and reborn glorious fruit
The voluptuous feminine beckons me, men run without taking root
The fury remains, progress to be made, though my initial goals are met
I look upon myself and see, heroes I've surpassed, others not yet
The iron breaches the heavens, but my toil is never done
If the horde breaches the gates, I fall, but living my last as a lion
I will toil for decades more, as will others, each victory is  small
But in this we all learned the old saw: iron is the master of them all

- Larsen Halleck.