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Contempt, thou vile, pernicious, blighted foe,
Whose might the weak usurp for reasons vain,
Accurséd shall thy passage ever go.

Beneath transcendent stars and lights below,
We linger on the brink of death and feign
Contempt, tough vile, pernicious, blighted foe.

But death comes not to me in 'suit of hateful roe,
For ever longer stands the scant refrain:
Accurséd shall thy passage ever go.

And spite -- that poisoned tongue that deals the fatal blow --
Would bear again the vicious mark of my
Contempt, thou vile, pernicious, blighted foe.

Yet nearer fly temptations's wings of woe
Before my pallid face; yet I maintain:
Accursésd shall thy passage ever go.

At death's dead door I drum the drone and know
Of time's toiled ticks 'til torment's loss is gain;
Contempt, thou vile, pernicious, blighted foe,
Accurséd shall thy passage ever go.


- Scott M. Stringham