Bromdun was an evil man. Evil was he, a man lost
To his desires, when welcome thoughts Of his wonderful good daunted
On him. He killed a rabbit, raw With a rifle in six shots.
He was blind by boredom And so therefore beheld wantonness.
His eyes opened when elucidated To his past, that he was endangered
Of hellfire, for even a summary offense But offense it was, therefore rude and hellish.
He was falsely accused. According the acquittal he thought he would acquiesce
He was rather made into a monster For a crime all men and women have maligned
Their souls with. Soon he sought Some comfort, but none would soothe him.
He was not beaten. He was not bruised. Battered instead by boisterous hatred
He was given a lifetime sentence For not telling a lie.
He testified before kings that War should not be touted; to be timid to fight
In wars that could waste all flesh To wan the flesh—for pallid faces wan
When they see their sin, And the sure sentence against it.
Ought they blush, bold and rubicund Rather than wan badly.
For wan faces are ones about to wane; But rubicund faces are ones about to win.
For Bromdun might have done more, He will not make the claim that he is innocent.
Rather, he does not know, what more, The malignity made of his brow.
He loves his country and President, Pride swells in him for patriotic shores.
Rather, a mistake he would regret Is the Patriot way relegated to regiments
Sent to sands of distant satraps’ sovereignties. For sorrow would inhabit all faces then.
Bromdun merely wishes to be won by grace. For the battles are wishful mental
Eyes. He fears the Ravens in the Woods Might ravage him, for Theodore Marmaduke
Had sent ravens to ravish Bromdun. Theodore Marmaduke sought to sortie
Against the Great King, after his failure Fought fraught, and fortuitous for
Theodore Marmaduke.
Theodore Marmaduke wished to imprison Bromdun
For making his name known Pekah Avram Ephraim, the merry marauder
Who marred the kingdoms, Who made the nations tremble with care
To not offend him, Great Liege Athena. Yet, one greater worse than Marmaduke
Lie at the helm of the wars wasting The faces to wan. That is Maddok’s woe
Who wishes to whip the kingdoms Into hellfury, and therefore weltch
The world of its weapons To bring all the living ones to woe.
B. K. Neifert 