At a quarter to twelve
he had shat his good self,
and, with bible in hand,
withered face in the sand,
feels the devil's foul breath
the foreboding of death.
'Let me climb one more peak
in this world of the meek,
do not take me this day.'
And he's gone on his way
to the land of believers
who, besotten like beavers,
take the judgment and die
never seeing the fly
in the mulberry soup,
or the ghost in the group.
Leaves behind Satan's words
in the language of nerds.
Then he drinks sour wine
from his Godfather Rhine.
Trusted soul, you shall sink
into heavenly drink,
no more devil to dread,
no more God. He is dead.
Herbert Nehrlich's Other Poems
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(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(28 November 1757 – 12 August 1827)
(27 October 1914 – 9 November 1953)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994)
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