death to all, that guard it, with the penitence
of an aggrieved atheist;
sheltered ****, and the soft-pouch
bunny of the withered wish...
that's bound toward an americana,
and a hope to  reside in boston...
or at least in chicago.. from irish crumble,
toward the irish reside
of no to every forgotten loss..
and that be  a worthy surname,
i'll keep my italics, and regerttable sicillian,
with names akin to frederick,
and name of family being hohenstaufen;
it's quiet amusing
you do not hear of my name...
of what i earned...
    and subsequently lost...
    but that is beside the point...
beside the point, beside the matter,
beside the care that have earned
to be worthy a dream,
to count the current days...
people in my life have become
nothing but  dried out dates...
sometimes fruits,
but most of the times birthdays
i don't care to celebrate,
or days of oaths,
as son to a mother, or son to a father...
i can't be bothered,
   and i'll forget the need for both,
  in eternal remark: no father, no mother...
         but a god...
                           is that so much
to ask for?
ever the god apparent,
upon the relinguished stature for the claim
of son versus father,
   or mother versus daughter...
                    is not god the mediation between
son vs. father?
                        why cling toward
the gossip spirit? dubbed the holy?
   i defame the holy spirit, as the gossip
*****... and that's the end:
                justifiably jesus crucified.