March 28, 2018

PROFESSOR ABRAHAM SONNETS' DIARY.SONNET I06.

O sweet vision in its sweet candour beyond compare frightfully frigging home my silvermoon,Now look in thy sweet vision and frisk thy tongue twisting laser beam in thy apologia to pay homage to the oracle of time,And to thy hardihood be crowned with a garland of gallantry,of frigging boats berthing ashore its seabank,and in this esteem thou shalt thy hat earnestly doffs,O sweet vision how glorious thou are,how glorious herald in thy stunning vale,ensconce plays whose pile of funereal shadows,canst not its fringe benefits gainsay,the burning fumes at the burning metropolis,may have gone up in smokes,innumerable times beyond reminicence,And the pinnions of the backward violet may have deepened even its hollow track,salvation earth trigger might not be dismayed when sweet vision,with thy forward violets at the pallor streets sings,O sweet vision is not sweet when not mated with gallantry,tis gallantry with the bonquet of flowers be plaqued as triumphant as jubillant as the old sleigh bells,in its roll of honour

NIGH THEE - NIGH THEE. Part 2

about thy becoming's nuggets,much more about thy flying wings,and all about thy darts 'gainst the walls of hostilities,So much about thy fortitude,What magic tricks and sleight of hands do you require that nigh thee,within thee didst abhor? Wake up you shabby,sleazy sleepy head and be not slewed at the slope,beneath this slice of life. That bliss smacks above the slough of despond,when innermost within thee submerged,a spanking spew of'nigh thee's bespoke spigot,for all men will kiss their verdict by their own hands,Look not for help,in alien lands and help therein you cannot get,They jest with posterity when they these entreaties galore,they make,godforsaken they bleed and then when obscene guerdon spanks,stand in stupor googleeyed,to spot them vile,slothful sport,strengthless birds blotting the sky,Each leaning on thy innermost worth much more than a lifetime of hellish struggles, See how the friction runs wide even so alarming amidst the literatis andsomeday we might all be nihilists,martyrs of'nigh thee

NIGH THEE - NIGH THEE Part one

Nigh thee as nigh thee immutable as the morning sun,would in thy womb,eternity drunk with thy nectar,there is neither night nor morning,neither yesterday nor today to be whisked into posterity, Now is eternity and forever eternity and nigh thee not farthest plunged from thee.Nigh thee - as soon as nigh thee flows that streams as the gushing winds,across vale and hill,lakes and aridland,Down within thee as golden crest,All dainties sweet beyond compare,one pearls too many and another golden nuggets,too nigh thee,right there in thy backyard,sancrosanct within thee,not far away,There is a sacred vale,in which thou must headlong fall,And a headlong fall affords thee a headstrong pluck of thy golden nuggets,Long thereafter,thy sinuous fall amidst the siroccos on the sands of sahara,shall with thee be aprised of the sinecur'd sinequanon of thy golden nuggets' pluck,And thou shall be judged of every pluck and its use,shall now with it be distilled aboard;So palatable about golden fleece's trajectory,So auspicious

A NARCISSUS LOVER.PART 7

at the abode and utterances vile,and turning the heat on himself. Sometimes,he slept rough over her mendacity and the roughness of the roughhouse could not curtail them and hence broke the knot asunder.Deceit springs from deceit,nebula breedeth nebula,and where beauty breedeth rashness and ugliness from abuse of gaudying spring over slothful tongue,a nation perishes,and chaos as immanent racio decidendi,may not survive the broken hearted. What clue does this salient salaam portends from the empiricus of this salad days,that thou mayest rationally,a verdict pluck.What obscenity salable from this saloon of hallucination! And yet withhold her lips from this sacred knight of old! No ten mendacities abridge as one verity,nor one long as twenty to sanctify satellites of sacrilege! Being so saturnine,did smother herself with this satirical kisses,scallop'd in scalding hot to scallywag the city square,the scapegoat scalps'tenderbud upon holloipoloi spring from this tempting lips,What scarlet women,what broken homes!

A NARCISSUS LOVER.PART 6

'Waow,travelling in a single mother 's country?' 'yet just a rite for a lass!' 'A lass!' 'Yea.' stonecold he as she laughed hysterically,with risibility fallen down on canvass. 'That shouldest think me heavy for thee where narcissus so froth a salvo myself forsake,Still facial rococo earnestly rivet greedily,flung over this toasting of a roaring trade,how quickly fast apaced thou set this ball rolling and this frollic heart's adore rollick'd thee on the roll of honour and a plaque for thy bravery.Oh,i ve not been rooked.' His detest of laborious lass was instantaneous. At that blooming roseate of the evening sky,his rotund gait headed home,for the roost and muttered on his bed.His plainant was roused by erstwhile spouse's rooks who sequel to their nuptial knot,rode him down roughshod and withheld this knight of old,wherein she above belched so easily and tribulated by its memoirs,barely shown remorse.And so at noontide,this virago did make a comeback and to her consternation,there was rough and tumble

A NARCISSUS LOVER Part 5

Nor would i read thy riot act to still dance barefooted on the appalling sand of mudslinging banks,with such uncommon riparian rights that ripped along with greater ferocity than the pugilistic ring of thy penultimate twains,' ' Bid yourself upon this ringseat to be so enchanted,by divorcee or like a fairy tale heard upon thy navel of wishful thinking,or like a desperado with the rusty and long dishevelled thoughts to run amok its sturdy train.Taste is a stale of all graffitis,of the vilest knight of old,tis the gospel not so gnash,ripen and gross to pluck and reap but the ringside seat where the masculine twains are halfpenny,though ritzily broached rivened,will i not thee send down to the region to beware of roadsense and unravel this gospel?

A NARCISSUS LOVER.PART 4

Nuking this neurosis with the girth of its necromancy,ossifying battered chins with the ounces of its osmosis,sometimes it charms the sunset or the sunset or midway gallivant of the twains,And then like the mastery of a pastime,a pastel of a clopp'd psycho-pasty morphology,leaving him a prisoner of love,in that penumbra of peptalks.Not pent up pennyworth but perforce not pennypinch'd,wherein his virtuous peregrination eschewed,yet was she perforating to his performing arts of peremptory gybes.'Thou canst not see that ravaging venom in my eyes,mine feet are sparkling roadhogs,ready for highway love,whereon mine quartz of love like every twain,turns its frolics into rhapsody,My tiptoeing grandeur being its wings,doth grandly inflexible,mubh rigid like a riffleman firing his riffle,o how fast that riffle is running and doth not bicker my velvet but still burning fremescent bonemarrow,nevertheless thy slanging matches,still not impatient,in thy assymetry,would in thy riot not me rinse down nor would i read the

A NARCISSUS LOVER Part 3

' Why art thou shameless pout?''I have been booed as thou art booed me,though i have wooed and never being wooed,as beffitting of machismo winces.Even so narcissus so thy trigger,by thou thy virago,of a thousand direful goddess of narks,canst not placate,whose sinew,lord of filthy lucres,in its lutarious sands never did absolve,who flirts in every guille,where she quids in every naivety of an epicurean lucre nail biting escapades,Yet hath she been that captive never freed from its wretched blanket of guillotine. And implored her for that which she cannot give,Over this frosty bank,she barely fret and then hardly as navelgazers pleads her ass.He for a morous bank and she a lucre-glot,quivers for lucre,wherein his vouchsaf'd spectre flounders,to once again hung in aloft of a resillient rose.And being flung above this whisk of nambypambi'd necropolis,hath learned to flex at the eleveth hour,over this hanging neurosis and and nerd of amorous necromancy.To sport,to jocose,to funfare andjocund of this amorous bank

A NARCISSUS LOVER Part two

making her cheeks a jocose voluptuary in every jar;And with a rollicking of a teasing fondle,momentously plays this rapturous chess.Upon this mollycoddle,did he her morose cheeks morph like a motley'd morphology.Who being mucky-mucous ducks beyond gripes,as affable rubbicon trigger'd her gravity.So offers he love her,what she herself as weaker sex cannot offer nor fret; But when his intemperate crest and buffers were brisky for commodious wittiness,nor apt to throw in the towel;But his mucillage of the pleadings and statuette of moreish adhesives,cavorting before her,turns his otherwise bungle into mulch.Never did a mudslinging in a lover's dishevelled muddy abbyss plunge,more muff for stale than she flexes for this cirumference of amorous fondle;Her love she cannot see but wrath she can get.He loiters in these muffles,yet her boggy swamp of muddlingings,perpetually mug.'O shameless he-goat' gan he muckily nambypambi'd,she did volley,murks! Tis but a mudslinging stigmatises,still she slaughters contumacity.

A NARCISSUS LOVER. Part one

Mascotly,he pounces on a rudder like a callow.Capitulatedly,would perambulate to overflow the Orchard with green apples.And then being exasperated,retreat to the summerhouse.There,he blissfully switched on the ignition of a ruffle on a laborious lass,with herself at recess,wheezing like a grampus.Still,he masquerades masochism as mere machismo and prettily still a martinet-truant;for to a tensed masonry,she hardly marshals the intemperate with her bogus martial arts.Still is he masculine,still is he mercurial wanton,to merit her mercantile mete.Twixt a middlebrow,still a middened midget,yet better still a middleoftheroad middling.Being milchcow,she loves him milched and sometimes he two steps before her flattery.Starry morn grippled their varicose veins with vista durress and by that misbegotten miscreance,she salivates from his bossom of soft endear,never to drown the misalliance,till he takes miscible with herself,being her missiled mint.Which placid and lutarious frequencies,have Image result for photos of great philosophersmodcon'd,making hercheeks

March 27, 2018

A NARCISSUS LOVER Part One

Mascotly,he pounces on a rudder like a callow.Capitulatedly,will perambulate to overflow the orchard with the green apples.And being exasperated,retreat from the excruciating toil,to the summerhouse.There he switched on his ignition of a ruffle on a laborious lass,with herself at recess,wheezing like a grampus.Still being knackered in her relief,he masquerades his machismo,and prettily still his martinet steel noosed,for to a mashy stonework,she hardly marshals her martial arts,at this mashy pelt.Twixt a middlebrow,still a middened midget,yet better still a middle-of-the-road middling.Being milchcow,she loves him milched and sometimes he before her rig.Starry how mimesis can minion thee,she that mimesis she cannot abhor.And by that scalpel of misbegotten miscreance,she salivates from his soft endear,never to drown this misalliance,till he takes miscible with her missiled mint.Which placid have modcon'd,making her cheeks a jocose epicure in every jar;And with a teasing fondle momentously plays this rapturous