Someone, someone 
of evil borne
 — a clone evil, 
spawn of devil
and hate-prone drone — 
hast cast a stone: 
forerunning burst — 
that first, thus worst; 
perhaps a crone, 
bagful of bone
 — still strong sex drive 
deader than live — 
someone plain dumb 
or sinner plumb
 — has done me wrong
 — causing a song
and frenzied dance
(or dervish prance?)
 — mad, sad despond
(to some, rhymes, fond)
 — Perhaps pow’rs praise 
the hand that raised
the first, worst rock?
 — Doubtful, a mock; 
pure justice seen 
buttocks between 
(metal molten 
turned to golden 
stretches portal 
wretched mortal 
gets: just reward
for such forward — ) 
Small comfort, but: 
another’s butt
speared, spares one’s pain 
by not a grain — 
 — I’ll sing along 
ditty for song
and dong for ding
and other things — 
at payback time, 
discord for rhyme, 
if I survive — 
alive-o-live — 
o: for myself
sorry, on shelf
perched, skull to crush
to toothsome mush
for pity’s sake,
sorrow to slake
 — of dumb dimwit
hurled me in pit — 
at a whisper
in waxen ear,
waxing more vain
with each year’s wane: 
the curse of thrones 
 — Condemned to sit
in crape cesspit,
a dungeon dark
for laughs, a lark,
rats’ red-eyed light 
sparks source of sight 
(biding my time
and clammy clime
with hot thoughts calm 
of having harm
 — heartwarming balm 
that kept me warm 
where soup could not — 
no, not one jot;
’twas hate that kept
me kempt, exempt
and free of bane
of pris’ners: sane)
 — Suffered pits, eh?
’K, next’s my day
 — and depths of pit 
sharpened my wits
to razor’s edge
that knows no hedge
 — Yea, take the cake 
putty to make
and revenge slake
 — put all at stake,
bet the full deck — 
what ho! what heck!
why not? — naught reck’d
 — what’s left to wreck?
O matchless joy,
to torture, toy
with cranium
worth premium
price to someone 
dumped in dungeon, 
stranger to sun
 — more so to fun — 
in nature’s thrall,
at beck and call
each time stomach 
makes known its ache: 
with bowels void 
vaunted sang-froid
 — dominated
by sick hatred
which yet restored
 — somehow bestowed — 
me with a wealth
of vengeful health.
I’ll surely live,
surely survive;
filled with the will
evil to kill — 
 — I feel vengeful: 
payment in full
of thousand screams
my waking dreams — 
devilish schemes 
making me cream;
my restless sleep
in hellish deeps
where those gone wrong 
feel three-tined prong 
besides hell’s fire,
pig roast on pyre 
eternal feast
for hungry beasts — 
Yea, ’tis vengeful 
payment in full
that’s my demand, 
when in command — 
Yet is it right?
Have I the might
to put one’s life
beneath the knife?
The lachrymose
to cause sorrows
for all mankind
 — or in a bind:
am I slaughtered, 
drawn and quartered
inch by slow inch
with turning winch
(to tan-tara
of trumpets’ blare)
 — a carnival,
carnivore’s ball:
colors and flair
of yearly fair;
(better than bear — 
bait, unbar’d fare) — 
I feel vengeful,
payment in full
my full demand — 
to wrap my hand 
around his heart
(which for a start
I truly doubt
he has); gouge, gouts 
a-spout, prick (sic), 
parts leis’ly pick
( — Have I mentioned
I petitioned
on bended knee
for small mercy
 — if only death,
quick end to breath — 
to no avail?)
 — tasted travail 
those outside pale 
born of green vale 
live with each day 
at Yea or Nay
of scum high-born
who would scarce thumb 
remove from bum
mercy to spurn,
to snuff flesh burn 
(tiring of scent
that’s heaven-sent) — 
Pleas: “My Lord, please 
grant me release
my growing seed
and wife to feed” — 
Ah — fleet seconds 
full and fecund
fooled, one reckons
’tis hope beckons: 
seamed face beaming, 
thick lips seeming 
hope’s gate to ope: 
jeweled hands grope
for a lush grape,
regard its shape,
pudgy digits
caressing it,
shade eyes — then burst, 
for bloody thirst,
in the outrage
of mad savage;
or p’r’aps engage
to play the sage
(his entourage
providing stage)
with oft-heard joke: 
while yes-men choke, 
swine before pearls
clod cast to churls
 — hearty ha’s hale
would make brave quail, 
pale, swoon, shiver,
beg and quiver
(without narrow
hope of arrow
fast, furious, fierce, 
heart to pierce);
turned to jelly
 — e’en void belly — 
unalloyed joy
for pow’r-crazed Roi — 
Thus, I daren’t flaunt 
rules, dogged by haunt
 — heels prey to hound 
red-hot for (Zounds!) 
pound, juicy flesh:
rabid relish — 
Yes, I have found
that you are bound
to feel you’re torn
once you are born.
 — And don’t forget,
it’s not Tibet
gibbet, China,
or Ages Dark
 — it’s all more stark 
where apes wear suits 
and read to boot — 
in joints like Rome
 — and closer home — 
But skip anger
 — it breeds danger; 
flexing your arms 
could lead to harm 
unless the trick
you’ve learned, to pick 
on other guys
just half your size. 
Best be coward; 
they’re well covered — 
nothing, naught well 
closed as your shell.

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