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