Spectral ensailor -- Death to morbid

 Then sane people invent the gallivent, some sailors Moon and repent; 

ensailor to braid your Baldachine beds, what beautify the long sleep. 

The Darkness is cumming, to light up the stage, enlarging the embrace; 

how much could you Love your Kindness, to give it away and become, 

One with Nothing, none in Everything. The void, that makes the chimney; 

to let others puff their smokes of Talk-no-jutsu and stalk-no-chalkbored! 

Let the children find their walls to crayon and the dogs, to piss my altar.

Marking the terra incognita and Toy Stories, what there burnt to ash Ketšup. 

To laugh in a Hare, pulled up through his nose, making time with Asclepios.

"The Whitening" verbatim Albedo hung dry in the courts of the most High; 

washing the tossed children, nobody wanted, to raise in Schwartau and Schwartzwald!!

The Jam with my peanutbutter tasted great, steampunking the tax-collector to impose a Valve. 

That Avant Garde, must have been an Estonian, to be too much Kalevipoeg at the gates of Hell.