Dia Mundial da Poesia.

"As lonely as a poet on the walls of Jericho

Or the moon without the comfort of the stars

I am loathe to know it that a man without a soul

Is nothing but a split canopic jar

I proved it

Improved it

Drove a sonnet

Right through it

And in this state of bliss

Evil kissed with wet lips

Pen-filled Fingertips

Which through me

for through me

Illuminati usually pissed

But with words of some hurts worth

I threw a party that extended God's list

Exciting new flames that my fame would claim for me

Reciting back the almanac of travesties

They call me bad

Mad Caliban with manners

Dangerous to know

A passing fad

Taught in all debauch

In excess and in canto

Grown wild

This child

Whole harems defiled

Faustina's and Mina's

Lady Libertine and her sisters between her

What spread of lies arise when lovers die

Which circle of hell is mine when I arrive"

Dani Filth about Lord Byron.