One dark afternoon,
like a shadow I flew,
through the rain that fell sick with lament.
To this house of incest,
for when we undressed,
blasphemies against Venus were rent.
But when sister removed,
her wed body approved,
the parade of my heavenly quests.
Yet all tongues are not true
some are forked or askew,
like an uncivil serpent at best.
For ousted from Eden,
I fousted all reason,
hook in mouth like Saint Peter Pan.
To haunt fairy groves,
and hot virgin coves,
where in the promiscuous swam.
I elected lovers,
and rejected others,
misfistresses that don't give a damn.
But in those that still do,
my deep interest grew,
the rise of the true pentagram.
