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Eye of the Tiger |
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I've the Eye of the Tiger
Without troublesome doubt of hindering scruples
Moving softly not to disturb careless wastrels
Tasting hot jungle wind burning in my nostrils
Stalking through eye-high savannah grasses
Hunting quiet as moonlight's gentle breezes
Tasting it for warm scent of the kill
For without second thought, this day... I will!
I've the Eye of the Tiger, swift and bold
To the archfiend my soul in torment sold
Taught as a tiger, a proficient killing machine's capacity
Trained as a tiger, to kill enemies with animal ferocity
Schooled adeptly as a carnivore in ways of war
Killing by fang and claw in ways those who sent me abhor
Versed to obliterate the foe without compunction
Pawn of "the man" my solitary function.
I've the Eye of the Tiger, that my God does send
Smell my aromatic stench roaming the wind
Without thought of him moving my way to contend
Laying booby traps just for him
This day will the devil welcome him
Slowly... surely... as a tiger dedicated to killing
Warm blood of my prey over me spilling
Cock an ear...
I smell his blood mixed with his fear...
My quarry, death, looms very near.
I've the Eye of the Tiger
The most feared jungle killer.
When I move, nothing else does!
Or I add worlds of hurt to mans puny woes
For I'm the king of the jungle, make no mistake
My job, my enemies very life from him to take
To send him on his way to hell
And I do my job very, very well.
For I've the Eye of the Tiger,
That aggressive, audacious, fierce annihilator
Trained for this elite jungle task
Blending in with light and shadowed mask
An animal, scarce vestiges left of humanity
Predatory to enemies of liberty.
Killing unseen with cunning... calculating... coldness
Who at the snap of a twig... or the twitch of an eye... Or
the wrong sound
Displays innate viciousness.
I've the Eye of the Tiger
A voracious man-killer
Roaming the killing zone for death always hungry
Ranging over areas of operation on the edge of angry
Killing, a lethal obsession to the most powerful hunter
alive
On murder and mayhem I with gusto thrive
Dispelling boyhood's sweetly na�ve innocence
Loving long ago replaced with hating vengeance:
Feasting now on blood and guts and glory
Damn my condemnatory memory...
Lying in dark shadow lurking there...
Waiting silently there... |
By
Gary Jacobson
Copyright 2003
Listed
July 12, 2010 |
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About
Author...
In 1966-67, Gary Jacobson served with B Co
2nd/7th 1st Air Cavalry in Vietnam as a combat infantryman and is the recipient of the Purple
Heart.
Gary, who resides in Idaho writes stories he
hopes are never forgotten, perhaps compelled by
a Vietnamese legend that says, "All poets are
full of silver threads that rise inside them as
the moon grows large." So Gary says he
writes because "It is that these silver
threads are words poking at me � I must let them
out. I must! I write for my brothers who cannot
bear to talk of what they've seen and to educate
those who haven't the foggiest idea about the
effect that the horrors of war have on
boys-next-door."
Visit Gary Jacobson's site for more information
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