Jesslyn Watson - Infamia

Infamia, the whores, the sluts
Infamia, the crazed, the mutts
My head is brimmed with bawdy songs
My eyes are gored with heated prongs
Infamia, oh spare my name
Oh, spare my stage, oh, spare my game
For if there is no game to play
Infamia will rule the day
Infamia, the city gates
Are surely what an infame hates
The gypsy child, the actor's chin;
Infamia, again, again
For Rome does hate a show of flesh
An act of heat, an act of mesh
Infamia shall take us all
You mustn't hide from your own skull

Jesslyn Watson

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/infamia/