My nativity my parents repent
For it interferes with their fecund fun.
In liquescent lust
The dissipated dissolutes
Pair up afresh
For passing pleasures.
No bond endures
Save their lewd license
Like rabid dogs
And bitches in heat
Locking less than the duration of dogs.
Wasting their seeds
Neither they gather nor garner
Nor do they lay up some straw
In their temporary shed
For me to incubate
And the Magi consider it madness
To follow the orient star
That heralds my accidental birth
As if I was not the king to be
But a bastard burdensome.
The roofs and props
Put up once by some fools
Have now become a tower
Where confusion reigns
That maddens and urges
An avenger insane
To pull down the rotten structure
And set up a city on the plain
Not to preserve the seed
But in the dead of an endless night
To please all passers by
Visiting our quarters
To know our sisters—
Those painted harlots seeking freedom—
And without waiting for a fire from heaven
We aid and abet a conflagration
To engulf all laughing bastards
Enabling none to rise from the dead
Or lay down his life
On a cross futile
And wash away with his blood
The festers of this leprous world.
