Hound Of Poetry Poet Free verse

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Totenkopf

Non-forfeiting my troth, in bonny and buxom, I believed.
What good is too good? And why is better, better than worse? 
Given the first beginnings I merge intuition with silence,
And form my own variant of “das Weltspiel”, as I deny
The realm of Earth and Heaven, and the realm of God and Man.
The progeny of thought, pliant but plum, with no falsity,
Purified by a jaunt of far and beyond, thenceforth
From a beginning to an end, shines in this darkness,
So strenuous in the pleasures of conviction,
Overwhelming and powerful, almost a daemonic proclivity 
Towards the duty to produce evil that destroys goodness.
The unrest is raising to overthrow the slavery reigning in the heart,
The slavery that is wearing the Totenkopf , so proud, and so it is!
I want to stop the cant I hear. Full of devilish malignity, the cant
Of a false scruple, in the world of no clear direction.
How one achieves it, if good is too good? If better is better than worse!
O, I have no predestined servility towards tolerance,
And I will passion and protest and be protestingly passionate,
In my own dimension of reality, frigidly judicious, as an old faith.

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