J - The contempt of some old men

I came to tell you there's been armed conflict
at the shores of our country
An army - a damned army -
of suited gents with poetic credentials
accused me of romanticizing your bed,
your body, my enemy and my rank

"All you mean by it all
is adolescent conflict, doubt
and fumbling, nervy sex,"
they said and shook their heads gravely

So in the great tradition
of Agincourt and Normandy
I threw myself upon their swords
and slew them with my angry words

All your menhir novels and flabby poems, sirs
are essentially playground chants,
highschool diaries and na?ve visions.
They romanticize your sweaty affairs,
petty causes and desire not to become
old, fat and boring!
So you like the uniform of the poet
Don't believe it suits you
when you still mine your self-esteem
from an illusion you have of youth
which only proves your own embarrasses you.
You can laugh all you like now
but you'll likely be dead long before me
and thus I vow to do the fandango
right across your collective grave.

They failed to pick up
on the matter of my missing the point
as I had on the matter of their missing it too
and instead?

Why you little! they said
You're wrong! You're wrong!
and bawled and sobbed in a sophisticated manner
That involved quoting Plato
Idiots.