L'enfant terrible.

L'enfant terrible.

Squander'd ye talents on things of thee violent abyss,

thou's inconceivable heart was't right,

e'en in thou's unblemished crib a colossus hurricane was stirring,

e'eryone knew from the nascence,

thou's chequered genius shall be the death of thee,

a inclement rudder without a helm,

thou's a somnambulist ship in which thou's captain 'tis lost about,

enjoy thee leaden ride on the abracadabrante sea of scornful sorrows,

be it short as it may,

perhaps thou is a heautontimorumeno could that be the answer?

or do I speak'th too much and out of turn?

As mournful waves are crashing over thee lamenting mast,

Lo! I scream at thee Lo!

'Alast ye demon without ears and a mouth much too large,

'Tis a cacodaemonomania whale at thou's bow,

Telling all and signaling with a thunderous of his tail,

thou shall sink to thee ocean floor faster,

than a stone from Baudelaire's dream!

Steve.D.Hammond.

 

Done