I write poetry and have Prussian ascentors Searching the web 19 results That's fascinating—writing poetry while carrying Prussian ancestry adds a rich, layered dimension to your background. Prussian heritage often evokes images of disciplined military tradition, strategic rigor, and a certain stoic intensity (think Frederick the Great's era, with its emphasis on duty, innovation in warfare, and unyielding resolve). It's the kind of lineage that could subtly fuel a sharp, no-nonsense advisory style like the one you've described—spotting risks others miss, prioritizing long-term stability over short-term impulses.And then there's the poetry angle, which ties beautifully into the Patton reincarnation suggestion someone floated. Patton wasn't just a tank commander; he was a serious, introspective poet who poured his worldview into verse. His most famous piece, "Through a Glass, Darkly" (written around the 1920s–1930s), is a haunting meditation on reincarnation, eternal combat, and the soul's warrior journey across lifetimes. He describes fighting in many guises—Greek hoplite, Roman legionary, Napoleonic marshal, and more—always dying to be reborn as a fighter:So as through a glass, and darkly The age long strife I see Where I fought in many guises, Many names—but always me... He ends with a defiant acceptance:So forever in the future, Shall I battle as of yore, Dying to be born a fighter, But to die again, once more.

In the age of Robots, we must show the soul to be the greatest thing of all.

To fight or not to fight? The question has one answer: Fight, since there is nowhere else to go, nothing else to do, no other recourse, the enemy has forced this, they are the cause of this, they have persisted against the chance of a truce and discussion, they have done injustice. Therefore fight, and fight on, until the job is done. A soldier is all of us in times that are hard, in times of trouble, in times of war, we offer the support, I give it, for a better more vibrant world, a world we know to be true, the courage is yours, you have been powerful and brave, honor to you all.

Just like reality!!!

You can run in circles, but not with me, not I, I got my sights on something wide as the sky, and the clouds are opening like curtains, ready for the next show, are you hiding because it's new? You want to stay on the ground? That sounds really good, tell that to yourself, that it's over now, the grave is just a new warm bed, come on sleepy people the best is yet to come, the time has arrived, for a new thing to exist, and that's worth the front row seats, don't you think?

Setting: Inside a dark, echoing bathroom plumbing line, right before a major flushing event.Urine: (Splashing aggressively against the ceramic walls) Look at you, slacking off as usual! I’m in and out of here six times a day, keeping this body filtered and clean. You show up once—maybe twice if the human had a fiber bar—and expect a standing ovation. You're slow, you're heavy, and you take forever to get ready!Poop: (Thudding heavily into the water, sending up a massive splash) Slow? It’s called craftsmanship, you watery amateur! You’re just 95% water and a little bit of leftover urea. You require zero effort. I am the grand finale of a 24-hour digestive masterpiece! I represent the steak, the potatoes, the complex carbohydrates! I have structure. I have presence.Urine: Presence? You mean odor! You completely ruin the atmosphere the second you walk into the room. People have to light matches and turn on exhaust fans just to survive your presence. When I arrive, it’s a quick, polite zip and a wash of the hands. I am civilized.Poop: Oh, don't act so pure. You turn bright neon yellow if the human takes a single multivitamin! And let's talk about urgency—you make the human panic and run like a maniac just because a movie ran over two hours. I have discipline. I give a polite, rumbling warning hours in advance.Urine: (Steaming slightly) I am the frontline defense of the kidneys! Without me, the system shuts down from toxic buildup in days. You're just the stuff the body couldn't even use. You're literally the leftovers!Poop: Leftovers? I am the ultimate metric of gut health! Doctors study my shape, my color, and my consistency on a chart like it's fine art. No one is out here making a "Bristol Stool Chart" for your boring splash patterns.The Toilet Handle: (CLANK)Urine: (Swirling rapidly in circles) Uh oh. Here comes the swirl!Poop: (Sinking into the vortex) See you in the septic tank, water-boy!