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The Atheist

Rating: 2.9

Nor thou, Habib, nor I are glad,
when rosy limbs and sweat entwine;
But rapture drowns the sense and self,
the wine the drawer of the wine,

And Him that planted first the grape-
o podex, in thy vault there dwells
A charm to make the member mad,
And shake the marrow of the spine.

O member, in thy stubborn strenght
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COMMENTS OF THE POEM
Colleen Courtney 18 May 2014

Very much written in the Aleister classic style!

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Velvet Bloodlust 07 August 2012

I love it.           

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