Love-Making and War

Wrote this poem several years ago. It is nothing special poetically, but it is a lot of fun.


“Stretching with the curious yawn of desire, for he had been alone and apart from man or woman for four years, Mellors rose and took his coat again, and his gun, lowered the lamp and went out into the starry night, with the dog. Driven by desire and by dread of the malevolent Thing outside, he made his round in the wood, slowly, softly. He loved the turgidity of his desire which, in spite of all, was like riches; the stirring restlessness of his penis, the stirring fire in his loins! Oh, if only there were other men to be with, to fight that sparkling electric Thing outside there, to preserve the tenderness of life, the tenderness of woman, and the natural richness of desire. If only there were men to fight side by side with! But the men were all outside there, glorying in the Thing, triumphing or being trodden down in the rush of mechanized greed.”

D.H Lawrence



Love- Making and War; A Hymn To Mellors


Love-making and War.
From land, sea, and sky - to the waxed kitchen floor.

Love-making and War.
Peace and abstinence - what dreary, dreadful bores.

Love-making and War.
The delight of Adam's first bite - and his appetite for more.

Love-making and War.
Leave your fear and your shame outside the door.

Love-making and War.
A will, an urge- a MUST! Even a bar-brawl, even a whore.

Love-making and War.
Man's pressing need and paradise - his foundry and farthest shore.

Love-making and War.
A man's spine, his spirit divine - his wiry, fiery core.

Love-making and War.
The content of man's thoughts, the subject of his lore.

Love-making and War.
Hector's armor Man pierced, Helen's garments he tore.

Love-making and War.
A love letter, a hurled spear – the lyre of Apollo, the hammer of Thor.

Love-making and War.
An animal and actor, with limb Man commands, with language he implores.

Love-making and War.
Listen to man's deep pleasure moan, hear the beast inside him roar.

Love-making and War.
Softly the lover whispers, terribly the warrior cries - deeply all men snore.

Love-making and War.
Birth and death, pleasure and pain, white and red – man’s eternal outpour.

Love-making and War.
There is no spectacle man fancies more than nakedness and gore.