The Contest of Swords

I delight in the contest of words,

Better than the sparring of swords.

Though the two are alike,

Hear this poem, and agree, you might.

Let loose the lance, and my lyrics shall strike!

My adversary returns with insults to smite,

The core of my heart, in cruel delight.

But these words form no sword,

And for their effort, no great reward.

Now stand back, lest I cut you: right-to-the-core!

Soon we shall see the sinews of your straw-man -pathetic!

See my proof, perfect, and poised: the words of a maverick,

Stand ready to cut through your frail-frivolous-fabric.

I will surely undo the spell of your ransack-rhetoric.

—

Here, let me show you how's it done.

Now stand in amazement, as the battle is won.

To make words into swords you need fire,

And a furnace to place the metal you acquire.

Into the flames it goes -because,

Pressure and heat form the independent-clause,

And together-bring the consequent, and its first-cause.

Watch and you will soon see,

How the alchemy of words turns these symbols into swords.

__

Behold!

Occam's Razor emerges!

Heat, sweat, and wrath,

The effluence from its flaming hot-bath.

Nervous?

This one will undo you —no remains for a funeral mass.

Take the sword to the alter,

And open the psalter.

Let propitiation commence, I tell you the truth, I will not palter.

Now rise up you spirit of the sword,

It’s time to vanquish the opponent.

This will only take a moment.

Yes! -Hear the sound of the air,

As I swing my sword, look on in despair.

Come at me again with mere words —I dare!

For the way of the sword does not spare!

And this is how you make words into swords:

First-cause, forthright: my first strike,

I swing —all my might!

And consequent is sheer delight.

For my adversary, already slain,

Off his face, I read the epic of shame.

And this is the end of all who make spurious claims.

—

And now you too, initiate, who reads these words,

You have the knowledge to make words into swords.

Go now to all the lands; have no fear, onwards! —Forwards!

Fear not the impotent words, the words of cowards.

Dispatch them quickly, lest they spread their boarders.

And in all the lands where you find lovers of truth and light,

You will teach them these words, and so teach them to fight!

For in the contest of words, only one can be right.

So put all your words into the fire,

Let the flame go higher —even than the heathen’s funeral-pyre.

And out comes a sword, the sword that undoes the liar.

The word is your sword, and it burns like fire.