Foul Foul Fear

Foul, Foul Fear Upon this

matter of unsightful sigh.

I do not fear constraint,

I do not fear haste

Yet upon this tagged bench

bearing the burdens of

the burdened and burdeners.

Bare haste upon

this hour, for Caesar is dead,

Buddha is Jesus,

Jesus is Shiva,

You are God,

and I am to.

A couplet should end this poem,

Yet only rhyme will pull through.