Henry Williamson

Temporal Envy

I will not rest nor let myself be
Till I have matched Aldous Huxley
Henry Williamson is a bitch
Because he died famous and rich

Dr Kritzinger I presume
Even the obscure have a place
Amidst diabolical endeavour
You gain yourself a face

Chastisement will come
From lucky liberal elites
But fat complacency is elusive
And steam of consciousness effusive

Why then should I not
Embrace extremist creeds
For fame and notoriety abound
At the core of my innermost needs

The malevolent game
Played and fought for by the gods
Leads me to make my name
And debunk the doubting as sods

Rustling paper gives promise
As I use black devices
I inherit and employ Steppenwolf's curse
To vainly try to fill my purse

Ambition and hyprocrisy
Fail to let me alone
So bitter temporal envy
Infects me to the bone