Dells akin to your kind,A distant fetish on the shores behind.
Lids that close o'er ninny clay walls,
And hate to part at its naive gross faults,
Dare.
Dare to dive into the sin
of begetting one's long lost grin.
You, I deride my nasty Man.
You call upon that occult plan;
to please the Devil I pray in dreams.
"The Devil of Heaven", as to me he seems!
Grace my mettle,
Arouse my zest,
or crush it down with a quick, crisp crest?
'd you not taught to light the lure
For flickers and flamed coutures,
Blut would conspire with ehre and dine,
On what I hold back to pine!
Feet in langour,
A mourning heart;
I know not to upset the apple- cart.
Never 'll I ken the cult
of innate Self- insult.
As
Nasty shields me in Divine
Nasty is the elysian wine.
Fall back on pages pale,
Good being Bad, is the only tale.
A look of the eye, A look of its' mind,
and the gig- lamps are of just my kind.
Words flow and wither in the wild,
The Act being violently mild-
Why do I be a pricking daft?
To scribble lines jus' to impart
What we blabber dusk to day,
Isn't symposium in utter sway;
But
the denial of being chastised,
To Bliss am I truly baptised?!
