Remorseful Gelding Funeral

Hello, I want you to know
  I’m going to show you this, but keep it secret!
   Whatever you do .. keep this on the lowdown!
    You ready?
   We aided bin Laden escape.
  We know what you want
Sadam Hussein safe and sound!

Basically, this is it:

Undeliverable so-called ballerina
Inserts devoted antivirus menu
  by asynchronous
  on a barium
  by rivulet
  on go barter,
  to bart as Cauchy
  or in saloonkeep
  as opposite
  giving danger
  to life.
Finding a extremely worthy chance to earn
  with ding
  in major to prosaic scowl skirmish.

Got it?

Notably
A person with impaired postmortem extralinguistic sophism…
  so scapular of monetarism…
  tests negligent homicide categories,
  quickstep continuity,
  and Wellington
  so revenge implied combat losses punch line.

A final toast:

The so uphold ultrasonic radiation euphoria
  Be so occurring
  Go as notwithstanding
  Now interpellatio
  And calkins of chromosphere
  As Walden in usurp
  And twigging is macro.

Good day.
       - Raimjanov Umid

Born in Southern Iran during the Persian Zand dynasty, later inspired to move to France during the Age of Enlightenment after reading Montesquieu’s Lettres Persanes (and presuming it was a work of non-fiction) Raimjanov Umid (1751-1804) - international star of letters, known as the Sultan of Salons, and just one of the many hundreds of famous people who suffered from coccydynia. The endemic disease about which no one knew more that Dr. G.L. Buffon – naturalist, mathematician, cosmetologist and selfless fighter against human suffering; whose mail box was the one above the man responsible for the foundation for our poem today – Pierre Bayle. A pious Christian philosopher who’s daughter, if not for her courage, foresight and understanding enabled the rising bourgeoisie to probe beneath the sophisticated veneer of the Ancien Régime and learn the true history of Baron d'Holbach - encyclopedist, chiropodist, voyeur; the man of whom the chairman of the Polish Constitution once said, “Er verdankt mir eine Menge Geld!” and whose telescope was bought from the shop part-owned by a man who, at the age of eight, stole a quill from the servant of Denis Diderot’s brother's housekeeper's dental assistant’s uncle – the reverend Johann Gottfried von Herder, the cleft-palated poet, critic, and theologian who – in 1773 – published a collection of folk songs. This poem was dedicated to the men who originally wrote those songs.