I can see my little babush-putt pouring out of my soul
like a warm little image of joy, but as vast as the universe
drawing out of my imagination. You know ink can never be blood;
even in my paper and pen writing days. My pet is mightier than sword!
Should I see my soul make a bridge from Venus to Jupiter,
The Vatican can’t preposterously besiege the love of my life! I swear,
I’ll doom it to castration and make Romulus and Remus war
in Rome for eternity! I am more of a lion than the entire Italian landmass!
My love is not a ship-shape of the hypocritical cardinals and the Pope,
should I choose to defrock them, and expose their bare bodies in the lies
they were bathing in for two millennia! You see, people of America,
the New Testament garbaged your souls with its invertebrate lies!
I believe in my pet and in my true love as we walk to every horizon,
should you disbelieve or disprove, a God-sent King! Let the rats
get Ratzinger! There is no sympathy for the carnality of historic thieves
and criminals. A King is a King, and be him my Emperor as well! That’s the way you
all should have it! The rapinists can’t have their bite and the right anymore!
If you think your ignorant minds should nudify to promiscuity with the most
evil treachery?! Righteousness overlooks carnality and banality, and forges its
way, despite your watery currents that you think you should engage in, to be
flotsam and jetsam from a submerged garden of unholy kelp. My beautiful pet
yelps in vindication of me, as much as in disgrace of you all. And I have an immaculate
crown to place on an orange-haired head! If only my true love, would rise in support of
his deputy!
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