|Ex Libris, Dr. Wolfgang Burgmer|
My neck, nor of hitch, nor stone, nor sword
Of being rueful enough to last through beauty –
Before my Lord whom I’ve abhorred
And nor in tempest, nor in famine, nor in deluge,Better see my children poisoned by this teat
Or fallen on their father’s knife – far be it!
Behold the burden of all those who take refuge
In Beauty, where the woman stands by woman’s sideAnd the man by man’s and we are our very bride
And our very suitor whose irascible dick
Alas! sleeps inside its master’s holeAnd the sons’ semen pays their mother’s toll
And her maidens’ blood soothes the swollen clit.
Thus I, seeing my hangman’s axe’s already come,For what I was, for what I am for what I’ll be,
Stand humbly here, on bended knee
And swear to my Creator’s cum
I’ve never seen more hellish Beauty
Than your beloved minor’s florid booty.
For I was never able to observe my dutyAnd not a single verse of all I’ve written
Ever praised, as it ought to be, a variant Eden
Than what is born from Profane and therein’s hidden.