April 22, 2018

PROFESSOR ABRAHAM SONNETS'DIARY.SONNET-139

But why thy nonchallance demystifies,those tender churls are golden pearls,And being freed,no ransom paid,for those willing to be paid,Indeed,the price of freedom is paid by those aparachniks,which makes men free,So oft have i inviolably burdens thee,not to opt for this ruse,When fairness in my verses speak to the obeisance of thy navel,Over this hazy lines, that hath got its perusal,And every tutelage dispatch'd aboard,not dumb bald pate disposes,Yet not proud of outcome positives,which i compel,Whose tardiness on roadless travelled is thine in the ensconce of time,Whisked into vintage time for the defence of liberty and defence of history,over its sweetest graces plow,And not for offence,when thou art gone, Shall thou be better lived with the epitaph long after thee?That 'neath as thy plaited lines inscribed:Glorious Herald and Golden Pearls,voluminous days and full of silvermoon,impactful and lived to the vertex',this backward violets oft did they slide behind these graffitis,Be thy forsaken as thy willbe

PROFESSOR ABRAHAM SONNETS'DIARY.SONNET-138

Which cummulatives set him dire,in that quirky path of amplitude despondency,Forgone grievances may tothee as abhor'd solitary aloft thy thatch'd roof?Whydidst those pledge if any craft,by remorseful backward violet everrenege or such grandiose delay,and maketh more misgivings climb their willpower to renege,a supplement to extant bales to let not grovel over this deranged clouds,gliding thy slavery in their goof of instinctive trajectory?Tis not an ample nesciency that through this gauchy cloud,thou fractures,To sewer not the brainstorm on thy rot beaten face,for no price of freedom is ever paid of that magnitude in refute of a salve that sees beyond the gauchy cloud,That curls the crafty and the simpleton to the engross,Nor can that a dreadful, aids dose of physic meliorates momentum?Though that ado persists,yet have they been more monumental in loss;The defender's platitude greedily lends but the doses from a lion's paws,To him that willeth in the gallows of guillotine and the forest where men waste souls.

PROFESSOR ABRAHAM SONNETS'DIARY.SONNET-137

So,it hardly evaporates its gushing streams from triumphant hills,Indiferent to lurk like the shameful,in that his homage dearly pays and never desecrates,But if by smartness alone, glory dies and warriors bickering beneath hill may not reach ashore in the tumultuos waves,Then harp this clue-Why art so gully quirky a path that history differs?Lords of my pedagogue pays the price and makest the difference,This merit sturdily knit,times can not freight unbound,in wanton words and dire conceit bestows it,over lugubrious earth's potentate crave,Why weary with toil that thou to the bed at night hastened and still undazed? What zealous pilgrimage to ply,yet drooping eyelids persist in a purblind dumb heir of a shadowy ambush?What happy flight and doth him clemency when gauchy cloud do blot the backlash to the back of beyond whereon barndoor hit is thrown?Then i scorn this tardy lull when to the seasons of this tacit moult,gregarious thought if not privy cannot summon,And with old bales,novel bales cummulative.

PROFESSOR ABRAHAM SONNETS'DIARY.SONNET-136

And so yet a greater slave is he to a lifelong yoke,So long lives he to fire blank of a charm,that misty eyes barely see and blunt its foolhardy savest not him from the jaws of a lion's paws,So it with muse that they muse,how then can they thee muse? Painted by blur to make complement to a proud but numbed verses,Over the hellish rupture that kismet itself is as unfair and villainous as the alacrity and winces and trip that they could take,This heresy transcribed in the nether's beneath,bearing the eloquence of vain cheeks more than varnish tongue can expre,Mine eyes hath seen the folly of the sons of men,of disgusting young and old,One with blurred vista and then the other smarter still coagulate,But little choices and sturdy verdict maketh a different,And the smartest at heart at the senile bough,evades a beggardom be and yet still a foolhardy by motherwit a silvermoon by morning flees,Alacrity and gallantry speaks volume much more sacred than royal sinew embroach'd to peep in the sun's eyes and barely sinkJohn Donne

PROFESSOR ABRAHAM SONNETS'DIARY.SONNET-135

But wherefore do not thee a pretty deign blown beneath,Make flex upon this atom of big bang,And many maiden voyages,yet to be taken,the task of martyrdom so dire,but such a mammoth of butterfingers populate this plain and world turn'd upside down,With the most virtuous path,not yet taken and hamlets ubiquitously sinking,shrinking violets'cascad'd populace haunted by adophobia amplified,This verse many years to come cannot forget,even simpletons,toddlers and lunatic fringes knoweth,Verily,verily himself will read its lectern so legible even in the howling aridland keeps vigil still,But will they moult at its pebbled shore,when nuances toward the extreme tilts their onions?Vulgarians are unruly throng,defied parsimonious glide and with the pale of death,in their mangled teeth and haggard bone, Shall i not compare thee to a loungelizard,when these grand verses that ages trod,breathe upon thy bonemarrow and thou greedily impugned still?But thy eternal downwind shall not dint a notch nor of besiege at thy disuse.

PROFESSOR ABRAHAM SONNETS'DIARY.SONNET-134

With the old lady,sweet victory is more than guarranteed on its erudite template,kindled by its sweet freedom beyond compare;For no price of freedom can be paid with verdict on the pallor sands,Not from thy benumb,do i then my verdict pluck,To think thee bynecessity,beyond mere preponderance,the mayhem of a personage,A time bombwaiting to explode at Alupluto,fromthese golden nuggets,have i dutifully pluck'd from thy stars,By oft mothernature rejoices in them,that in them inquietude be stillthy golden morn shall boon,And boomerang over distant lands yet unknown,And in this laurel,my pedagogues,have i prognosticate and shall hasten thee to accord thee golden morn,bequeath'd to triumphant hills undiscern'd,when thou art thy golden nuggets interr'd in this verses shalt observe,That history maybe rewritten,augean stable purged and Alupluto,a new leaf wears,Vaunt in thy smear,at self assertive strays,decrease a gaunt in its embryo and then impugns moult as deity,what declivity in this pallid friction then endears

PROFESSOR ABRAHAM SONNETS'DIARY.SONNET-132

Nothing o nothing against this offence can make a lucrative defence;for a truly reckon that offence and defence by norm roost at polar opposite,O that you were yourself displeased at this contrast but the lull betwixt backward and forward violets,eternity whereon martals headed,can not decipher nor its hiatus bridged,O dreadful art,wherehas serfdom taken thee,where servitude,shall gaol's celebrated villain steeps from,Time's infinite bond lie imprisoned or what carapace of letters canhold off his lifelong bond?Or in whose brawn will its manacles befreed?O i none saviour,if it be not gallantry from the glamourous faces of the sun trodd'd,O worship gallantry,pour plaudits on the messiah of the sungods and sungoddess,And with the summer's honey and autumn's glory,shall its breath be held against the wreckages of time,not insulated by mortal brawn,cast at seas pacified,When rocky mound art so frosty thumbs,O dreadful art thou art gangrene to thy prisoner of conscience,Where the soul of the purest hardly rejoices.GAUFREY CHAUCERhttps://793750.smushcdn.com/1529468/wp-content/uploads/2015/04/Chaucer-80x80.jpg?lossy=1&strip=1&webp=1

PROFESSOR ABRAHAM SONNETS'DIARY.SONNET-131

O that Sacred majesty,a rarity to the backward violet,reeleth from its lowtide,into the gargantuan but the marshy pebbles,of the direst annoy,O sweet victory like sweet vision is it for dread that thou mayest not be born?Orthat men at thy coast stampedes,wheezing like a grampus?If thou clueless shalt harp to perdition,The planet in thee boos to a rapturous derision,When every pride to the swashbucklings,mortal brawns deny,Over beauty's waste and silvermoon kept in disuse for a lifelong,Is it for shameor its adophobia that thou bearest captivity at heart orfor fun or for what a fickle intergrity,that thou thy history after thee be put to obscurity of the sacred plow,Which to ill manner'd intent and flimsy excuses desecrates,the pride of manhood?Let those whose nature pleases wage thebattle,Let those whom nature displeases,wage bitter war still,Barren planet,cast over endowed time,with chokes and interferences,carved from infamous seals at sheol,And nothing'gainst time's quirky pall of offence,can makea dent

PROFESSOR ABRAHAM SONNETS'DIARY.SONNET-130

How wringing wet with passion this hook of hoohas,barely hop away its doldrum,When vociferous coccoons or obstreperous indigos indignant slide to side their merry sloths and death they die before their grand quietus,Thou canst not be at hollow with thy derelicts and antecedence,o sweet vision,my bounteous booty,that i mayest with thy gallantry scaled the vertex or mounts of the himalayas and everest,upon which my latittude as the altitude and aptitude,perpetually flies as my greatest armour bearer,dare not thee dismay'd,but switch not from gallantry,that queen and king in my inner chamber,which in that ensconce,sweet Victory thy unborn child lay in its embryo,wherein pebbles of sonorous hoots and crying earth's envelopes eshew'd, O sweet victory from thy pregnant mother,when will thou be born?O sweet victory,the true price of liberty,let thy gracious light to the orient endears,Each homage doth glorious herald repays,When from thy loftiest pitch,adventuresome golden pilgrimage from its firmament breathes.

PROFESSOR ABRAHAM SONNETS' DIARY.SONNET-129

May i a plaintive of the old lady,reiterate,for the umpteenth time,this rekindle before time, worth more than a red cent;that vision is not sweet when not mated with gallantry and not merely mated with gallantry but also stratagem,the empiricus harbinger of silvermoon,Its furore may not be enthused across the board,What fudge,this fulcrum boredom stay put boredom,When vilous art plays the arithmetic chess at dusk,contempt of time may not even the nimbl'st sorcerers foreshadow'd,how sweet vision plays the pingpong of hardihood for sweet liberty,endears it to grease byzanthine,sometimes at the slightest bashing and volley of crafts,And still yet barely heavy,overwhelming intent that the price of liberty is paid by those winces who flow gallantry,Gone beneath enamour'd embroidery,a red cent more than arboreal eyesore compare,this wrapping chess plays not its inclemency,to its guerdon bearest in vain,What asinine which hath duration as the pristine price of liberty,doth gallantry,never plead to impress nor slack.

April 20, 2018

PROFESSOR ABRAHAM SONNETS'DIARY.SONNET-128

Some unscrupulous to say clott'd crocks,in their autarky of cloudcukoo land,overwhelmed through its artery of gallantry and heroism,Oft did the old lady heave hardihoodto her ovation realm,Which art had gilded flowers and purple birth;Blazing the sunken flowers in the muddlepath therein, That cockeyed cock'd hat knocks had purloined insularity in cavaliers, And often savaging,what discontents,it crows,yelling unfathom'd yippies,in beautitudes of profound caddles,manifold in every comme ill fault,An innumerable silvermoon,supplanted from an eccletics,it drew,Of hackney'd gait and rudder bank,Who incinerated by her capital engross,in adownpour threw,Upon whose margent emblem she was commended,Like a pawnbroker,pawning peasantry to peasantry or sweet vision's rainment that lets regalia not dissipate to the muds,where birds in windy flight,gallivant but its acrobatic swings by its adrift of abstrusion,earnestly compress'd them conform,In this adulation of self libation,a visioneer ought to fly in its aerospace.

PROFESSOR ABRAHAM SONNETS'DIARY.SONNET-127

Then how,when arts calls them to motherwit resist,What gravitating bogstandard,canst thou ruminate,thy redundant spares must be imbroiled,Which when ignition thrust,acidulous sands cremat'd,From off a pedest whose gravamen sunnyside rework'd,a bounteous tales from a dark'ning vale,My wraith to sweet vision this self esteem faraway accorded,And and up,my plod laid over this dappl'd vale,Ere headlong fallen,a dipsomaniac and dionysian dunghill,ample rebound,congress of acidulous sands,thwacking of desert oasis with gushing rivers,Storming the stormy clouds with her dirgelike grief,gust and disparate hodgepodge,Upon this stanchion,a plopped heave of strays,Which fortifi'd his hardihood from this depressant vale,Whereon silvermoon might be thought,sometime it yell'd,The lugubrious raccoon worn and still undaunt'd flex,Time not had been decommissioned,all that nuptial knots ties with sweet vision my old lady,Nor ordained to expunge her estranged spouse from the living room but spite so frosty of a treacly morass.

April 17, 2018

PROFESSOR ABRAHAM SONNETS'DIARY.SONNET-126

This arsenal and foundry cannot its stokehold deny,hath not left metalurgy sallow,where prescriptions for metal casting are dutifully kept,The Old lady is the haven which struck didstitch, These doses the hoot i care now in season is the dose notdenied,And being stonecold stoop,guerdoned with silvermoon,My Old Lady and my glides as stonework,beyond shuddering stomp of stormy clouds,a castrate at straitjacketed ends from a stouthearted streak likea streak of lightning,silvermoon gilded,For to her,i have sworn fairest to defend,which art stubborn as a mule and rich as a croesus,Unthrifty vision,why dost thouthy tentacles nuanced,upon thy selfwanton slide?Motherwit inquisitorialgnash,spews nothingness butdoth reproach,And being frank she minces to carteblanche its illusion,Then sumptious knight of old,why dost thou alarm?Thrifty vision,why dost thounot populous acclaim,so vast a horde of hordes,yet derails mammoth appeals?For having solitude inthyself bears,than of thyself repugnant throng dost frivolousdeceive

PROFESSOR ABRAHAM SONNETS'DIARY.SONNET-126

This arsenal and foundry cannot its stokehold deny,hath not left metalurgy sallow,where prescriptions for metal casting are dutifully kept,The Old lady is the haven which struck didstitch, These doses the hoot i care now in season is the dose notdenied,And being stonecold stoop,guerdoned with silvermoon,My Old Lady and my glides as stonework,beyond shuddering stomp of stormy clouds,a castrate at straitjacketed ends from a stouthearted streak likea streak of lightning,silvermoon gilded,For to her,i have sworn fairest to defend,which art stubborn as a mule and rich as a croesus,Unthrifty vision,why dost thouthy tentacles nuanced,upon thy selfwanton slide?Motherwit inquisitorialgnash,spews nothingness butdoth reproach,And being frank she minces to carteblanche its illusion,Then sumptious knight of old,why dost thou alarm?Thrifty vision,why dost thounot populous acclaim,so vast a horde of hordes,yet derails mammoth appeals?For having solitude inthyself bears,than of thyself repugnant throng dosImage result for photos of great philosopherst frivolousdeceive

April 16, 2018

PROFESSOR ABRAHAM SONNETS'DIARY.SONNET-125

You Son of a bitch,revert not to thy bitches,You daughter of Jezebels,renounce thy witchcraft, You evil spirit,exorcise and retreat from thy belzebub,Golden morn flees when old lady flees,then night cometh,when oracles upturned and subjugated,and karma due,All benediction,a blasphemous blast furnace,when sweet vision sent on exile,sojourns without return,same with freedom a fellow fugitive,at its retreat,O backward violet,o dreadful art,why dost thou blether a blatant,pout at the immanent bliss of her golden morn and take puff at gallantry,thy coat of arms,thy blazon to project a glorious sun,And be wedded with her raiment?O sweet vision,why do they abhor thee in thy glorious temple of gallantry?My old lady is my sacred nugget,for that which longer,it nurtureth feedest on the silvermoon,which doth makest a manhood and a barndoot hit,The parllor'st streets unappetised to plead stubborn as a mule and the crux to thy consternation bears,My stonework,my stonemasonry stockily built dykes against nefarious waves

PROFESSOR ABRAHAM SONNETS'DIARY.SONNET-124

Do not slack to throw a banquet and at dusk goes to your rest,let its chains bind thee and charms feed thee when thou art sown and tilleth the acidulous sand;for when thou art laid thy carapace,thy sweet vision shalt never lie,Fire thy bazooka in thy morn to beard nefarious lion in its den,this acidulous landmines,when thy beatnik bedraggledand beautitudes spawn'd by the immortalizer,the old lady of the st.blues'golden morn,time's beforehand surmount'd,Beneath this slope,backward violet grimaces,This strays as they stray'd but above thisfriction,forward violets steadfast aplomb,whereon with theold lady,they cut a distiction,Toarraign bestrewed bestiality of time,O that its halitosis of murky bellicose be bewitch'd and bewilder'd,ere those blackclouds,betoken a storm,To bill and coos,gravy trains nigh and afar off,for a round robin billet doux of the appogee,There is no buffer under heaven,beneath hell by which minnows and minnions mt.everest billy o's climb'd,except if it be a good billet of this good saviour

PROFESSOR ABRAHAM SONNETS'DIARY.SONNET- 123

That with glee upset their destinological apple cart,cimmerian darkness of repugnant budhist spirits,arboreal eyesore of ciradian lepers,archipelago of unruly belicoses,arrant arses and argybaggi'd armschair critics who ere the sentinel makest a vacuous difference of a crumbling cloud,My sempiternal treasure,my marbled frame immortalizer,sweet vision,they are fallen on thy landmines,a vast swathe of winces,a behemoth shoal of living deadjones,scabb'd in this graveyard,love this dungeon of arcane to dwell,Yet time and season on its armada of embarrasing armouries,behind the arras,fleeting the arrant clutters, That artery,with the apposite artifice,enroutes neplus ulstra spareth no hobson choice,be it articulated ambition or pure alabaster'd atlass of arts and crafts,this roost earnestly endears ashore,Sweet vision is the charm,being zenith aura of the arts,wherein trajectory is cast over the back of beyond,Feed into the morning and raise your buoy with thy capricious riparian rights,and throw a banquest forhiImage result for photos of great philosophersm

PROFESSOR ABRAHAM SONNETS'DIARY.SONNET 122

A hilly beans on planet earth lives in the paradise of dreams,Who barely bicker at the acidulous sands of time,And withheld bay at the moon,keep it at bay,draw a bead and tell their beads,to outlive the vultures upon this acidulous sand,to beard the lion in his den,And hardly ever convinced to greedily adjourn the virulence of fate to grouch this blinding adenoids,Whose Adam's Apple and adrenalin were latticed by clutterless amplitude of patience and fortitude,of perseverance and its afterglow,They,in a bird's eyeview,i've spar'd my animadversion and it is they this batch the accidulous sand direly bittersweet sequestrates,Having being animated in this anthropomorphic animal kingdom of sweet vision,o sweet vision,how glorious thou art are!how glorious of thou art are!o spirit of glory, Wights devoid thee are blackmass of blackguards,blackholes,horse and buggy blankets,the blacksmiths ofblackspots,antiquated folks,being derelict apostrophes of depression,hardly as workmen,in the senile bough blame their tools

April 12, 2018

THE BARD OF ALUPLUTO'S COLLECTIONS AND QUOTES.PART TWO

The only way to success is smartwork and not hardwork.You cannot fail,when you know where you are headed and the battle for the preeminence of man,must be fought at the spectre of intellectual freedom.Victory cometh like a thief in the night but who can stand when it cometh,nor withstand the momentum of apotheosis.There is a season of destiny,when all your wishes are fulfilled,sometimes it rarely happen twice.The road into the city of dreams is long but short where wit is sturdy and strategy is king and short but long where preparedness is largely impugned. Procrastination Is the valley of indecision and every delay to do what you know,weary the soul and tarry destiny into its inauspicious nirvana.The battle for the nirvana will often come without further challenge and thedemotion of arts,may not secure for its parody,the best of grave train,except if it be a child of circumstance or child of destiny. Broad lanes bringeth fiasco but narrow lanes bringeth better reward,in which dividends are paid for all gigs

April 9, 2018

PROFESSOR ABRAHAM SONNETS'DIARY.SONNET-121

Behold thy sweet vision is like the bible,igniting thee still to pearl dive,beyond murky waters in yet greater sail of the ministry of action,when supplanted in the muddle bath,Unthrifty prejudice,why dost thou bevel upon thy baulky's bauble? Alupluto's betimes yearns bliss but doth restitution,And being frank in thy sweet vision,a carteblanche,And being outspoken still,it bewilders the bewitches of the bewitched and to those betided,Then bounteous freedom,why dost thy bounteous consignment ashore impugns its betoken? Why dost this bespoke but sumptious largesse not besotted but betternoir'd? Why dost thou sweet vision,with its briddlepath,freedom largely impugned?So,magnanimous,a bible of freedom,Yet canst still not cease to bewail?For having surfeit with thy gallantry,that thou of thy gallantry,thy fortitude,thy sweet vision insurance,blanched nor racketeered,then jubilant as old sleigh bells,when nature calls thee to the stardom,What fathomless blackmagic canst thou invoke and thy unused consignment ?

PROFESSOR ABRAHAM SONNETS'DIARY.SONNET-12O

Fondling on that which ambiguous trash doth ambitly ameliorates,The rabbit muddle-bath sickly animus applauds,my gallantry o thy gallantry,doth apposite dose of physics warrants,Be not apopletic when at thy early infantry,thy presumptious are not kept being atrociously bungled,O sweet vision is protracted illness but with synergy of alternating stratagem in the ministry of action,pyrhic victory could not be extinct,and that testament like epistle that sweet vision with no stratagem,is pyrhic victory,could not be farce, Penultimate balms and doses at Alupluto,basal headed,my purport thy purport,punditry and greymatter as fuguemen,Are not at loggerhead and in doldrums with pounces of these doses,For as i have shown thee and with further ado beyond bauble,which at this bazaar,the ramrod baton must have been taken and the golden feast for its gladiators shall begin,for i have proven thee spanking,not bent and baulky at this beseech,who was as plain as pikestaff,beyond bemuse,bellyful in arts and showmanshipImage result for photos of great philosophers.

April 8, 2018

PROFESSOR ABRAHAM SONNETS'DIARY.SONNET-118

Manumitting punks of gutter'd serfs on eternal remands not negotiable for a messianic tribune,wail o distressed arts,wail o distressed arts,This plastic arts with pussyfoot's ensign at acme,as if the pusillanimous should outlive themselves as minnows and pillion riders,So did this plastic arts'resillience excel,a vulgar strand,in transfix,in gallantry, knighthood not racket racketeering,to greedily thump on the racket,Not in the insensate rabblerousers to veer off its racehorse from the racecourses,not rabbit punch dizzy,a rabid raccoon to coy a proud rider's vilest intent,high raffishness,uncontrolled crest,bibliocractic ragtag,ramified rambunctious,ideologues to go on the razzle,in this tender bud and bristled vale,thou mightest guiltless spurned,See that sacred lines ,that apologia when intoned,shouldst not be disarmed nor abhored,whereon now thou dost lack lustre,O sweet vision beyond compare is the saviour,the anchor and the troubled ship wading the hellish storms and huricanes howling on the high seas.

PROFESSOR ABRAHAM SONNETS'DIARY.SONNET-117

The bibliomaniac festivity breaks no festoon and longevity,the salvation earth with its looming tussled trigger fingerstalled,they fiddle insulated,whose shallow spectre thunders like a tonado,the floodtide crushes the fatcats and the minnows alike'twixt this cross borne at its metropolis jetsam'd by its indigent folks,mired by opaqued inquisition for a saviour,time and season,cannot deny,even starry night's memoirs cannot recall,to flush away this flummery that blinding furnace,which vapours a foretaste doth it imbues,This imbroil however the rapport doth beguilles sweet vision,slains freedom,still a fugitive gadding on a furtive clad,hibernating in an alien land,Sometimes preposterous as the absurd of hecatomb's protruberances,rampaging with immodest pride,Alupluto's imbroglio of the fair breeder's nissus mischief,being trapped as round robin meander in the flattering hoila,Behold when sweet vision will outshine the oddysey as it were in the days of the golden yore,freedom,shall speaklustrously from gaol.

PROFESSOR ABRAHAM SONNETS'DIARY.SONNET-116

And thou amdst this golden folks be coronated in a regalia,regal as juno and lustrous as the impressario,Magnifying well its glory,if there be triumph in the golden battle of the bulge with thy men at arms,Why then didst they sweet vision's charm abstinence foams like detergent?Now which way shall they turn,over this exacting exalt of malignancy?Their execrate humongous,expostulates undaunting and expostfacto factitious,Freedom is fugitive their fahreinheit will not freeze,And still this fagged out of old faggots,hardly licker fag end of the impending slaughters," Pathos" they exclaimed but extrapolate did the touch with a tenth foot pole, and longing fantasia with a barge pole!When clanger erupts,do they not relish?And so mischieviously in that blister,they fauxpass with glee,fathomless! What vicarious custom whose hostile walls fenced by rays of raidingbanditry,femmefatales,dissident folks,mutineers,and the fifth columnists,refrain headlong fall,And this refrain,evidenced by its festivity's unbroken girth.

PROFESSOR ABRAHAM SONNETS'DIARY.SONNET-115

See,how sweet vision keeps off pyrhic victory and time's tarry where there but kingly stratagem welded from the loins and palms of automagnetic bossom,O sweet vision plenipotentiary of freedom,thou didst bash-less plight thy troth with her and thy kinsmen endear'd to thy ploy,These limped limbos whereo we litter,never can literateur fest like a litterlout,nor lissom not what is loath'd without bruises, O Alupluto,o Alupluto,this miasma of logarythmic muddle-bath shows theemashy unripe,That thou mayest not sate to stale,unfair roses,resillientlummoxes,round leather lottery of longwinded low comedies,of ludicrous ludos that adorn the periphery,the metropolis and its seedy spring,Is it ubiquitous,this graceful steps,lurking upon the golden sands of time?This lovely caves of enchanted pits,hung over a thousand narks,hath hollows meteors lined as meteoric rise make them shallow,If itself be martyrs,sweet vision knight them,knight these roses from bleeding earth as forward violets,And this folks,history glorifies

PROFESSOR ABRAHAM SONNETS'DIARY.SONNET-114

Hail but earnestly sweet vision with those fair lips of symphonious rhapsody,Though mine not being mortal to make,yet are foundries of silvermoon that the budhist wraith being its endowment can give,Then gallantry shall be thine coat of arms and bind thy feet and girdle as well as peripatetic conquest,With what gong will thou be heard and gourd greedily drinks?What garrison seest thou in that dreamland city or the ground to muscle thy musculature,with thy men at arms,thou shouldst not abhored,Hold thy fort starry nights,stay in thy sweet vision,pin back therethy ears to turn back the horrible hands of perilous times and beholdthis modus viviendi thou shalt not ride its pillion piggyback,Then why not sweet vision given its salvation powers from obscurityand freedom,since apposite plastic arts barely defy the platinum and emerald edges, Art thou ashame to glister?Then go to brasstacks and pleach again,freedom keeps its oaks where there arebut sweet vision,and sweet vision forever keeps off its pyrhic victory

PROFESSOR ABRAHAM SONNETS'DIARY.SONNET-113

Can thy right hand with thy wit densely apposite seize the muddy-mutatis mutandis cast upon its aspersion?Then boo thyself,be of thyself an exponent of naivety ridiculed,O how narcissism of sweet vision,so narcissus,salvage thee the agony of psychotic bruises to steal thine own freedom and thy kith and kins,with great tremblings as thy men at arms forsook epicure to be birthed at its swashbuckling brook,That in this pent up open letter'd sonnets thou mayest not overruled openmindedness not fairly wanton to ochestrate this trigger ounces,Overthis alterating menace,hath it indeed hung its plunge intoto,all the mystical pantheon of this most maligned sweet vision,And not merelyonly for this purport hath oracle of time been erudite tosport alongside with its parrots wielding parotcry,but also alongside the parodists and the fatalists to jest this churlish insignia ofthe parsimonious perimeters of its coagulants,yet were pesky,to ridiculously adorn the pestiferous festoons,Of such emblem,plead thee be not proud.

PROFESSOR ABRAHAM SONNETS'DIARY.SONNET-112

Not densely infringed infraction or like an improper fraction of an impropriety,with heavily protuberances and long impregnated providence,Danc'd upon by imprimaturs and yet no friction footing seen;frogmarch is a frizzle of sweet vision compendium of revolutionary imprimaturs,not gripe to hooha and hoeys but on the hoop,hook,line and sinker that will not sling one's hook,Then modulate this scam thy primrose bank and expunge whereon this monotonous hilts they lie,this concoction of impuisant bastinados,these shadowless moors,will through the motion go motheaten,From sunrise to sunset even the motley of the beguiling sport,frogmarches endear thee,Is freedom so windy a vanity,a prisoner of conscience that it cannot free,that thou shouldst greedily fathom and may it free?Then thou shouldst think it scanty to trigger sweet vision's charm and hence mollify with salvation earth?Is thine own grail feet not amply plumpy to betray this multifarious but mountainous bank of muddle-bath and muffled neurosis At Alupluto.

April 7, 2018

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Not contrite with its contrition,coldheaded and hardly cop a plea,yet still cop it,Not greasy,gritty to the teeth but barely grizzle,gravy,obstreperous but not to gripe with grist to the mill,grotesquely,ineluctably not the groggy infantryman at this juncture thy jumping off whereon jinks might get rid of junk thee,Then mightest thou thee this inculpate incubus infested,for then were not thee kaput,But then having this guille that wrinkles,why didst thou abhor moult?Thou still canst not thyselfbe freed from its instigated wrinkles,in thy sordid cheeks;Over whichthy insouciance defies inspectorate quotient,insurgent feet are gray chalks and barely to all intents an internecine and blatant interdict of intelligentsia,Of inverse proportion as the gimcrack spring doth inviolably grow,my velvet impalpable impale,were it mortal thy attrition felt,Would in thy implosion impious or seemingly impishly and implacably importunant importunating,Bid thyself this impinge of impiety or like an impunity trip upon imputation.

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Mortals temperate or intemperate over this altitude and ambrosia hardly ever strife and decked with the apostasy,Sangfroid archetypical argent enrobes weaklings,mortals saith it is immoderate,immodest and sometimes as it were innumerable times flee constriction of its durress,What follows this consternation,they murdered with stampede,with that blot on their copybook,cockscrewed and corrosive,Behold now how it will savethee from the crane of tangled web,so fastened to its automagnetic dew in its crenelated crescent,Pure chirpy,pure cricket,pure sand of article of faith assay'd cricketeers,pitched with theblazing fire from its crimson'd sky,Which crooned infamous infrequencies of its automotive magnetism that cruises like crystal gazers presaged misty cloud and the wits'end of a riverbank,addendum to the sea,What affront of august seasons drowned at seas,of the nebulous sky batterings,she is born with same frangibility as mortals and in the ministry of action is much slower than time itself,an logic inference

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Then with her consort of the winter street and its constriction,to lay the milestone and rhapsodizes the sacredmaze and golden nuggets of time,a coagulant,wherein its mutation seeks and ploughs;o how the sanctity of time,is mated with sacrilegious clutches and clutter of sweet vision,cocked to clutch at the misery of time and hence knock its cock-a-hoop into a cocked hat,at the brevity of motherwit,time cannot save thee if it be not forpounces of stratagem and if be notfor plaindealings in this plaintive plane,nothing succeeds likesuccess and something fails like failure and both on the burrowing fields of time,are timely orphans that only sweet vision beyond its gavel could sequestrate,her plainsailing cannot ignore and with this compliment compulses her oracles to the concave concatenate of sweet vision,Over this composite altar,hath it hung its lance intoto,all the pantheon of sweet vision,And not for this sake hath it been learned,to sport with parrots,brandishing parrotry to jest this churlish ensign.

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O why chapfallen,if its purport be not slavish and clanger'd?If it be not clanger'd 'neath this claymore mine,if it be smashhit,was the tender glory, which cinched and clean-limbed in a circadian ryhmic clangour of naivety pokes,With thy classconsciousness,not to for once jest Karl Marx's class struggle,beyond clarts and claptrap,clap eyes on silvermoon,This cleft,clingy and sturdy as the cam of the camshaft,a cloister clipp'd for a walk above the plank but frosty,they the coldblooded pyrates routed,If thou wilt slay sweet vision,thy charm for glorious manhood,shall have been slammed and butchered,if thou wilt slave sweet vision and its manacles,thy gravy trains shall forever be obliterat'd,O sweet vision in thy county lays apotheosis,o sweet vision,thou borough of rhapsody at thy concert pitch,stolid vale burns with silvermoon,coarsed dampsquib with the agony of the beneath,Doth not a dint quench the constellation of its galaxy of stars ferocious burning of the bluesky with its platinum and emerald torches.

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O how this sweet vision mated with kingly stratagem delightest me to dwell,a rod to which my cam is fastened,What a jewel of camshaft in the golden oddysey to ride above damp squip piggyback,being vociferous with the companiology of thy automagnetistic cavalry,borne me hardest a verve to wade and being jubilant with candour,above the canard of contemporary adventurers,What a capacious caparison!And this homage with which it paid reverence,do i care a damn of its carreen electromotive impulse,the cardinal fort of automotive force to which nature is capapi'd,When sweet vision endears at its conjugal bed and enters through the door enrobed in this straw of her rainment hung over this crankshaft and its cavalcades of hardihood and philology,lay the knighthood of oddysey's cauldron andthe cavalry,then Mt.everestas mt.olympus will to thee listen'd to thy oracle and the celerity of its catholicity,over this champ at the bit lay in chains the insularity of the dreamland's carteblanche,Why chapfallen,o Why Chapfallen?