You Wait Poem by Herbert Nehrlich

I shall, some foggy day, commence
the march to your Canossa, quick of stride,
and when I get to within inches of your fence
I'll plan the little deed, to take your hide.

And cut into small strips your DNA,
with care I shall then yield the stainless blade
it is the Devil's method, if one will not pay,
reserved for members of the Scum Brigade.

Night falls each day and vultures like sunset
they'll fight each other over every piece,
it is a fitting recognition, one to get
in place of any glory, such as verdigris.

There will be dust and dirt, the excrements of time,
though none will give you welcome, none at all.
You chose to live a life of smut and crime,
and it was left to me to make you fall.

They would not beam you up, even to Hell,
the universe denied you any space,
you had no human substance and no shell,
and no one will recall your swinish face.