Facetious III

You can't win me,
With languid lies,
Your obstinacy,
Causes me great vexation.

Used to muslin,
And cambric wears,
I shudder at them,
And there stupid perorations,

I know to many martyrs,
Plumaged by lies,
And deceit,
Shut in a calaboose of the ones they love.

Stop obsessing,
And carrying around vinaigrette,
As though I will make you sick,
It doesn't work any more.

You flog each other,
But with such laziness,
You stand in languor,
Not even bothering to cover your tracks.

I sit smelling the fresh jasmine,
A field of repose,
Surrounds my naked form,
Free of impudence.

My compendious life,
Draws together,
An especial existence,
Is all I strive for.

You will forever be fastidious,
But they don't have any trouble,
They live sinecure,
Falling for your every demand.

Chaste means nothing,
To you or them,
Ripping,
Has become pious.

Look up to the sky,
Won't you?
And search for evangel,
But wait, it's right here.

You seek everything,
You want it to be sanctified,
But some things are to tainted,
Even for you, oh gracious one.

Scrupulous life,
Is ignored,
We need to look down,
And stop being beggared by hate.

But here I reside,
A cubiculum of my own,
Green oozes through my veins,
And I am silenced.