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Oh, conflagrant vision,
The evil within thee.
A wraith's iniquity,
With a good Old Scratch revision.
And a devilish incision.
See virtues knocked off track;
The birth of Jack.

In a time of wispy wind,
When the leaves all die and fall,
And all probity's recalled,
Boast the majesty of sin.
As the beacon flickers within,
Just as the lightning cracks;
The heart of Jack.

In the ominous gloom of night.
A pallid harbinger,
Vaunts death that is astir.
Conformed by satan's might,
With seeming endless blight,
His army's called attack;
The will of Jack.

With a visceral sadist blaze,
And request in reverie,
Of a ghoul managerie,
Are this baneful craft's true ways.
Aside revel in vile praise,
It's a simple graven snack.
And that is Jack.


Jeeves Kel

© 2000