To the Leader of the Satanic School of Poetry
You've been resting in peace for some time
Till my lips read out the verses of yours
That lay in a Treasury of Gold n' Black
An Archaic voice from distant doors.
I resurrect you every time
When I silently read your lines
Immediately, you're brought to life
When read to a million ears.
Struck with awe, I imagine,
"How can a man,
with charisma, outlive
his olden times even now?"
Well, you still dwell in a human heart
Which loves nature,
and the con of man
Attracted to; can't I resist myself,
My infatuated self, from a Dead White Christian Man?
Can't I ask my mind to fall
For someone alive & warm
And not the Satan of poetic Romance?
Satan? 'Cause of sinful tempt's?
Forbidden desires; the mind's too wretched,
Can't we love the one we love?
Why are you to be blamed
For sinful temptations?
A li'l clubfooted boy abused
By man and woman alike;
You had lived in an awkward world,
The one which I've inhabited now.
But now you reside somewhere else
Since your 230th birthday.
My heart now vacant no more, no more,
For I did fall for Satan for sure...