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| 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 teatOr 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 side
And the man by
man’s and we are our very brideAnd our very suitor whose irascible dick
Alas! sleeps
inside its master’s hole
And the sons’
semen pays their mother’s tollAnd 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 duty
And not a
single verse of all I’ve writtenEver praised, as it ought to be, a variant Eden
Than what is born from Profane and therein’s hidden.
A.K.
