1821, deed is done. . .oven bun:
Papa humping mum; comes a son who will stun:
proved a prodigy is he,
pens poems prolifically/pro- so! -digiously.
Fan of Edgar A, far away—USA.
Habits of the “mad”—absinthe, hash, [poppy] plant—he’s bad
(madness of the “maud” is the pathway that’s trod).
Cursed[1], he turns out verse sublime; works at perfecting some rhyme.

Baudelaire, mots très claire[2], mensch of words, French of words, Baudelaire.
There’s one Yank he’s lovin’, who’s tanked and druggin’—
that “Raven” maven’s works can scare.
An essayer sans compare; but don’t splurge in “Paradis”-urge[3] ware
(but please share in my parody fare).
Many’s “beaucoup,” many would Bau’ do,
and so no prose hack is the poet Baudelaire.

1861: 41 minus 1.
Battle partially won with second edition:
“Fleurs” 2 comes out, but the knife used on six that lose lit life.[4]
Hacked a little bit, but there is more to it.
From Seine River banks comes a sarcastic “Thanks!”
Senseless censors pencil blue; sentiment to them: “. ..faire fou’!”[5]

Boulevardaire, bouleversaire[6]—trenchant words Frenchmen heard. . .bouche pas taire.[7]
From some, thanks are tumblin’, some cranks are grumblin’:
the second edition has more fare.
Baudelaire, mots sans taire[8] were his words; “He’s a scourge!” some declare.
It’s a beau coup, the coup that Bau’ do.
There’s no going back ex-post poet Baudelaire.



[1]Baudelaire was considered a “poète maudit” (cursed poet)
[2]words very clear
[3]Released in1860, Baudelaire’s “Artificial Paradises (Les Paradis Artificiels”) is a response to Thomas De Quincey’s “Confessions of an Opium Eater” and a memoir of Baudelaire’s last years and the effects of wine, opium, and hashish on the mind.
[4]Publication of the second edition of “Fleurs du Mal (Flowers of Evil”), minus six poems banned in 1857, but with the addition of 35 new ones.
[5]Allez-vous faire foutre: go fuck yourself
[6]bouleverser: to disrupt
[7]mouth that won’t shut up
[8]words that won’t be quiet