John Milton,
The Paris Hilton
Of 17th century English puritanical verse,
Never (as far as I know) dressed as a **** nurse.

Take it as a compliment
Branded heretical.
Bring on the pyre,
And set it afire;
When they resort to
Crucifixion
You’ll know you have the right
Convictions

I am the puritan god
That dangles the puritan cross
Above their heads where they stand
At the pulpit of the ******

My brothers mouth gapes open
Chords rumble sweet honey
Shed your fear to dive in
Dawn your habit of sin

O words you have mistaken
Poor words you have forsaken
Clear as day you have created
The hand of an angry god

pure is water
   underground
        oh la la

set in soul
   sings in tome
oh la la

still pilgrim nigh
   prayer whereabouts
       in-ground

romantically in
   that stone hall
        oh la la

there tirelessly
   ensconced hers
      with life

she pensively
   peruse her asylum  
in ecesis

when bread broken
    with wax bean
       oh la la

          and this d'art
     a priori again
her curio