The frenzied mongrels yapping come, teeth bare
Frightening my flesh to faint; the vomit
Seething from their disgust makes rancid air,
And liars veiled, with dark gums decrepit
Like witches romp, believing they prevailed.
And some fooled by silence join the mean mob
Permitting that faked friendship be unveiled,
While the Maroon pulse with the heart's sweet throb
And the resolve only a warrior
Ancient can know. For I do not shudder
Nor flinch, nor need Hermes as courier
To tell my defiance. I'll make fodder
Yet of the baying brood, and face to face
Meet the cowards whose ambitions are laid waste.