ELEGY TO THE SADOMASOCHISM

Contro.Sonnet-71-Do not cry for the direst clouds,when they by windbound recompense strike,do not pest,when thou art pilloried by karma,thou shall hear thy survival,when convalescence bells rings,to graft thee with a scorecard,of the morning bliss once again,that thou art insulated,from this villest soil, with the bilest hell,if thou salve thee ebuliently well,then tread carefully,recall not thy wit of erstwhile hell,for i foretaste thee to repent,that in thy fair flowers,thou canst counterpoise,stalwarted by heavenly moisture,rejuvenated arcadian bliss.If binges stink at a furlong,should make thee,ware of dire consequences,when intent is meshed,with empirisus, rationality is enthroned,O if thou witness once again its sullen gravity,thou lookest upon thy gravity,when i peradventure,thou compounded with salacity,witless do,Does thou with empiricism adores,for where it is transplanted,smarter deeds are supplanted,and fatal men of errors,belching with comedy of errors,decay and wanton crest,found fatal ,lest....

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found in the city.Not to rehearse, by memory its forecast of dire consequences,could proof the fatal, lest the wise become fooler and the fooler ,becomes foolest and chaos fly on the street,in the sea,in the air and in the land.Froward not benign thee,off thy ass. Contro.Sonnet-72- Now avoid ridicule,lest men should tast vice,with shame,what values should thou subscribe to make thee show allegiance,to them,afterwards of posthumous penitent-pensive tilt,rebuke quirky camaraderie,at a forlorn mile,neuter their jungle,for in thy grit, thou cannot by intendment be soiled,when thou art resolved.Unless,thy art so virtuous spared,thou waiver but abundantly whacked,to do more damage to dainty passions,on the st.blues.not yet salvaged,from the executioner's noose and defray plaudits instead,for salacity and boozing,to beguile,what mincing words would torrently pass.O lest thy time,heart may seem brutish,in that foul tongue and murky customs,speak guile of thy nature,and self esteem,interred in thy sloven earth,when

when thou art still fowled and germed by salacity,And still liveth with a strange creature,in an alien land neither thee wacky nor thy wacko,as a vulgarian,vulgarises thee canst nebula doused,shall thy resolve be free.Art thou not fied with lifelong stigma? And thou should normal trades thy love. Contro.Sonnet--73-That time of benediction,thou mayest,in thee behold,when fair flowers and sweet roses,or avalanche or artesian wells do blanket erstwhile slothful soil like a chilling fog.Upon those mountainous allied pleateaus,which protrudeth against the valley,dunghill metaphors and hellish sward,Barefaced ridicule haunted,where flung thy art,was impugned by it,in thee,thou sweetest revenge,shall be sinew of a remorseful state,the blinking emerald of a new dawn,long after the sunset of the primrose bank.Which by its direst clouds,doth take thee asunder,for the contest of intergrity and much maligned,much evaporated selfesteem,that seals up the greatest battlefield of mankind, aristamagnetism,In thee,thou

seest the glorious,are captivates at its wits'end,that quirky gales be of slothful soil,doth blown away.As glowing fire charcoals,whereon,it stoop,must obey,consumed with bias,with which it was passionately glowed,this perception thou shouldest not binge,which maketh thee,an indeterminate human superior,to which,wits end must be mated with perception. Contro.Sonnet-74-Be thou contented,with selfesteem,through which thou settest customs and binding practices,when thou art faced,with below paradigm,ridicule thy bloated potion,fly everewhere thy legacy.without importunity,thou wouldest not be bailed,from it,and thy life ,a ridicule before thy time.Shower thee,some interest in the reminiscences of sloven earth and rudderless banks. Still with thee,shalt thou stand,when reviewest thy sordid past?thou dost recall none,to consecrate thyself,against impending dooms; for sullen earth cannot be but sullen eath,hidden beneath quirky pall of vapid idiosycrazies. the by superiory clash of human species.So,then thou hast

lost thy esteem,to the debris of the earth,caught in the welters,amidst welshers,villains of unkemptsoil,whose direst cloud,is symptomatic of sword of damocles pending,and a pint of ridicule,is in the natureof its conjectured sorcery.Contro.Sonnet-75-O thou my legatee,inherit,digest and inhale,this paubulum,in a crimson season of fair flowers,gathered in their lows and prime,barely rot away eternities.In this tranquility,grim-death shall be supplanted headlong,in a lifelong voyage.As betwixt,esteem and disrepute,is found in my struggle,not to defray infection and infected sickos,contaminate of slothful earth,to pilfer thee away,from treachery,struggling for the most pristine art,then worsted by its gravest clouds,most times true remorse is by sober reflection,than extrapolate and exhortation by alien tongue,to hood thy signatory of appended intent,starved of misdeeds of an obstreperous earth.Save what is reflected and true remorse is candidly betoken,to care much morethan a hoot,for the transmogrified art....

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or binges in its eternal memory wither. Contro.Sonnet-76-Why is that refrain,so tedious a bile,for thee to bear? insofar as dire consequences,its variegated piles of agony,indisposed, to change? why wit time fret,thou derided? why cherish i still repentance ever the same and keep that intent in a bustling ado,that every item of pensive tilt,doth tardier dismayed,exuding their penultimate influences and where prior,they damage,O salve thy good,remorseful intent,thy ultimate price to freedom,this wish i did not spare of thee and mine bone of contention,so all mine intent is drawing thee of arrogance,frugal with penitence to thyself and to manifold sapien species,for as thou resisteth,to remorse thy spouse,in both old and new wounds,thou mouldest findeth good mettle,to guilt thyself. Contro.Sonnet-77-Thy benighted rupture will show thee incurable and moorings filthy.And thy plunge contemptible,hurled beneath nefarious norms,gullible imprint,shallowed thy fist.And of this stray of dastardly act,moment......

reprieve,is requisite balm, of sombre wrinkles,glaring in the face,of mouth's tumour,that disengages glibly spoken ,of rancourous memoirs,tearing us apart,that thou by sinister intent ,stealth mayest abnegate them,within time's masticating furacious theft of fate.Hence,we reach a poreless shores and all entangled nets and geniculated axis,still begging to pay the price of freedom. Look,recall what history says and tells thee and depart in earnest,from this wasteland laden with squandermania venoms,of vultures rampaging conquest of mean-less or gilded shores,And thou with thy nursed progenies,will then salvage,the grueling hordes and envoys of saturnalia boat,from this blissful ignorance.And this convalescence,soft as the glow,shall lucrative explore,in compendium,the impecable whole. Contro.Sonnet-78- Songs Of Adamatine,did Sadomasochist,barely refrain to tinker."So Oft have they indur'd the stigma for the smeared eaon.And every delectable damsel,has pelt the nugget and nozzle of my manhood,And beneath thy

joyance,sandness full.thy holy eyes,that taught thy youthful days,to dope with same salacity,that thou now tagged saintly,should be censured,for being haunted with improvidence and insensate to empathy,twinkled by youthful sinew,how come thou deign,so froth spined liberty in troth,like an ulster for righteousness,Had grooved turgid licentiousness,in thy youth,to later transmogrify and days of sacerdotal engrave leapfrog, And time's aethetical tolerance of clemency,gave so much grace period,to penitence.Yet,be not ample empathetic of this gracious gesture,from that which earnestly i inquire from thy household,whose tacky influence,thou didst gravely exploit for remorse.Art thou not born of the same crust,that thou mayest bamboozle for penitence? foibles of the mortal parlor earth,dost take time to mend and arts,with no ebullience,may tardier gross remorse:for when thou dost penitent tilt,thou art fully remorse,giving graces,ointment to sigh a good sigh of relief,entrenched from the stigma of the days of yore

Hence,let entreaty causes thee,to apply the golden rule,and be as wise as a fool is wise,in the days of treachery. Contro.Sonnet-79-Whilst loathe i did twinge for thy peculiar resolve?Mine wonderment versed alone,had all the magical spells of an expedient censure,from thy foul tongue.But now,my gracious grooves are plumpy enthralling,to douse thy hackneyed resolve.And my providential treat,doth give another torch,unleash i therefore,a censure,to sewer thy traduce,travailing calumny,to cajole thy witless jackdaws and cult of sadomasochist like his ilks,deserves earnestly also,the applique of golden rule,to balance uneven equation,yet what of thee, thyself,thy guile,doth braggart. Thou didst target youthful villainous sinew,when thou didst rebel,against the holy grail,time lends thee grace and amortise o pawnbrokee and yet,with the eruption of senility of the bough,thou restless cajole hapless youth, hence be censured from what belabour,thou didst now belabour,to impress modesty and chastity,upon the breast..

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of swashbuckling youths?And nature found it a fraud,sour than thy sullen cheeks are,frosty plaudits, heave i thee,they boisterous sacerdotal......... that frittered away youthful sinew as days of youth,with same offence.No panygery to thee,as thou didst stink hell.Then curse not thy stars,but to thee,thou,thy volition and sensationalism,thy voluptuous bank,that froth thee to err,to bilk. Contro.Sonnet-80-O i shall not entreat thee,when thou art assymetrically muse,pouring an equitable traduce,when doth i encroach thy bellyaching navel. And In that frosty plaudits,thereof fritters away,all thy verve in seeking adherents and hagiologies,to make thee guilt,laden and tongue tied,but since thou presumed bulky nuances,wide as the ocean;thy foul tongue earnestly twinges sullen earth and gooseberries as the bitterest clouds,doth bear its sagging sail,even with my sordid intendment,far more,superior tact,to thy fabled wimble upon thy sullen earth,doth perfectly broach subject well.

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As minesenility in clamourous guilt doth unremittingly infects,And refrains this wacko,in the tempest of direst clouds;not that the frittered dusk,is less nonchallant in thy hone than when the inglorious guilt did hover impending doom,but that weird lewdness to the hilts,taunts every bough that rose too late,And songs and cries in the day and night of a weary womb,lose their torch,to find thee,therefore like the ambiguous shores,as thou art,will i not hold my peace,because thy voluptuous bank,shall contend with passing days and passing night.Contro.Sonnet-113- Behold,what nursery,this illbred garland brings,that having such a contempt of thy youthful sinew,to show his recklessness,the baseless dot,gets nowhere,thatthou shouldest,in undissimilar context,fritterthy youth,with lust!Then,when it hathnature's recompense as a malediction ! O exonerateexogenous influence,let alone fingers them.Letthy libido,thy confinest grail,contends that overbearing blunt,that stalks quite so easily intendment,in struggling times

and during struggles,with thy innerself, were it not the direful cross of hades,why then the strife and striving to mend,to elope from the scar of infamous mucky dusk,that was well known to us?For to no wiles,thy tendons succumb,than of thy subserviency and humour to mutate;And passion,much vaunted passion than in thine remorse could penitent morsel by mucilage,bite,thy own naturewit,shows thee not unripe,when thou art by thy mortal winkle,transmogrify. Contro.Sonnet-114- O unfair roses,thou can never survive,nor a ridicule this knight of old,for thee,were been smeared,when first thy gauchy eyes lust'd,a typified obscene stings,wherein addiction,cannot deny,even doses and overdoses cannot repel,mustering from its infection,rendered fugitive,selfesteem'sglorious heirloom,billows upon billows,wobbling,voracious volcano,volleyed with roving eyes,imrisoned by lust,a hilly mountebank of incestuous ridden inflamation,a hone have i witnessed,like the perfume of Arabian,burntpersonage,stinks gluttonously,like a lark

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across the board,since first thy foible,i uncover,which still yet sordid plough,oh yet entanglement doth still knots,like a tangled bird,brisky for freedom and redemption at hand, so thy mucky earth,which methinks still doth smears,hath infraction as friction and thine eye may be obscured,so thy sloven soil for dread of recompense,thou age with peril that defy insulation,ill bred mucilage,as fodder for burning fire of karma. Contro.Sonnet-115-Let not mine chaste be dubbed a lethargy,nor my kindred as a dumbshow,since all mine plea and supplication be,to mammoth youth of uncanny days persist.Sacred is my chaste now and still a hotpotato,in a wondrous pool of guilt and trauma,therefore mine chaste to indefiniteness conform'd,excite ostentations to blot out its mark. Contro.Sonnet-116-In this benigh,a conjugal bliss of chaste doth lends its bent above misshap, and chaste is not chaste,which impugns substance to take effect or bends its metalic sinew,even when altered, o it strays flawed,upon its taint consumate

and grating blot.It is a dreary mist to every wanderlust brew whose graphology,untainted beams forth,though in hideous gram.Time's fury is punitive and a punitive orgy,though rose cheeks unnerved,within his sinewy contumacity's complexion grumpy: chaste alters not,with this gruffy ground and superheroic lust,but blankets diffused for mutation,to the precipice,if this be comedy of errors and upon intent be proved with retribution,barely i freestand nor no chaste without stanchion. Contro.Sonnet-117-Be now no more a naughty jerk of grotesquerie,that thou hast slanted every turn,wherein great chaste maketh a frenetic of a guttersnipe,do not recall the dearest foul play,whereto all flaws to tie thee,to guillotine by dusk;that frequency,thy fleeting kismet been modulated by bent of fairest springs. Contro.Sonnet-118-And given to time to heal thy fitment mortise,to retreat from customs that thou hast hoisted over direst clouds and inglorious nights,which should ferry substance for remorse,furthest plunged from..

farthest plunged from maudlin shelf,both binges and lust,drowned beneath,And equity quell,thou prejudice;tally remorse with bandwidth of penitence,bud but do not shoot weird at thy volition in thy disgusted prowl,since mine pleading is writ to wit,at thy wit's end,caresses,did i perchance strive,to fizz substance,the purport and calibration of thy omnifarous chaste. Contro.Sonnet--119-Make thy engross more keen,with grit as natural flavour,to remorse with alacrity,palate and tendon instigates,as to boost floodtime and refurbish thy flotilla,to distend and tame unknown,we retreat to fizzle chaste,when we err,even so,being froth not unripe,clamourous of never ending contempt,to belch acrimonious seasons,did i enthuse mine unfair girth,And a sick patient,that pleads no entreaty,brew lethiferous potion of pitfall,to be flinty ire that there was viable,thus tenets in chaste and chaste-bashing commerce,to anticipate foibles,of foul play unborn,i,of checkered intense peccadiloes,grew to treasonable venom......

And with such scorecard,by annals,trickles down with sledge hammer on anvil,unfair roses,which flung vile upon vile,abashed by ailment ,creases be,But then true pedagogy dreads everything in scandals,a potion that so fell sick of manhood. Contro.Sonnet-120- Were you not once,countless times chaste repellent,to befriend mediocrity at thy spring?And for that impalement,thou vilest rabid with kamikaze frankestein,to spite axiom that neccessity is the mother of invention,unless thy nerves were brass,penitence thou distilleth not,at thy ferrule,for if thou were by precarious unmoved,as i reproof thy mused despot and pariah stance as a nation,have more relief and sigh to heave.To plow,how once a terrain,wherein i was suffocated,in thy oblivion,that our dread of gales,unknown might have subside,mine ignoblest wit,how hard postulate pomp,And so,soon to you,as thy guile crimson,twice times a decipher,fugitive bossom of the grovelling bandwagon jumpers,poisoned humble salve,Over thy prance,shouldest thou prate,and thy

noisome wacko of pandora box,as thy wit and satire be enamoured beyond omnibus sorts. Contro.Sonnet-121-Tis better to know,impatience is vile and king of viles esteem'd.And to resist reproof,thus overwhelmed deign,to censure incivility,not by garnished lust,but by furtive poise poignant winces,Give trepidation to thy beguiling sport? Or its requiems,why are they many times sung in vain,which in their renege,volcanoic eruption of pandora box-incivility,dismantle what i dispose . None excruciating on purport,am i not a bridge builder,that i am and they fleas,in a fleabite at that strand ,must earnestly depart,At mine affront,thy alert tendon-stimulating,mortifying and mutilating,immersed may be poignant,though they themselves(erroneous youths inferred),dissuade remorse,By their quirky corpus,fiendish bandwagons,doth barely spare,unless this dickenish penultimate antecedence,and all men are vile in their art and misdemeanour is not immuned from a typified corpus of wights and mucky cheeks,garnished by lust......

Contro.Sonnet-122-Thy foibles,thy crucibles,are within mine tempest boulder,undazzled,edified with befitting love,which slings above that inclemency,stinking froth abide beyond ignoble frequency,beyond omni-vantages,even walkie-talkied by its frequency modulation of fugacity,Or so,to much aversion,so long and sturdy as the fastened belt,and he marbled with rotund wit,by severity to apprehend;till a morsel of the impiety,calf its malaise,thy ignoble reputation,never for once,can be equalled.That parquet of pariah osmosis,could not but arouse its momentum,nor efflux thy grit and oleaginous thresh of desideratum.therefore to show penitence avidly,was i with unslackened fortitude,boiled forth, to thirst remorse in thy bone marrow,libate them,to keep away from vices and garner restitution of insolvent esteem.

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Contro.Sonnet-123- Refrain but no guile,that thoushalt not be stained,in that which thou doeth. Tentacles,vintage circa diffused with the freshest lewd,barely wanes,methinks, are sordid past still hauting,noneless to scorn they are sting,but arediffusions of novel ailments,enticed by dreary dolts and also perverts of an incarcerated but fathom of an imprisoned ego.Our fate are multipronged and differ and thus,we are whatwe choose to be.What thou dostmortify upon thy navel that is salacity,And rather make thee,apalling fastened to a deathknell thanremorse,that can be nurtured ,haveenslaved thee,thy subconscious ego,and thee thyself both mortify by ill bred gangrene,nowa wanderlust at thy vicinage,northy motherland eulogised,for evidence is the taste of judgement,wedoth lie,with facts,fabricated byscorn of chastity and votiveplummeted and this shall ever notsworn,not to miss.I will be chaste at thy goofy neck,and chaste's scythe,shall not be unsword'd.Indeed, Chaste Is a censure and a ridicule of reckless art.

Contro.Sonnet-124-If mine taste turns stale,dread chaste,by mine kid,a stain and desecrate abstain,it might for exemplification's cascade be a mirage,As subconsciously subject to chaste's hatred,weeds upon weeds,shall they grow,it was by accident,an evasive craft;it hurls into open contempt,nor a recess from scorn'st scorn,obtains by neath of its enthralling enthralment unsubdued,whereto,the passion for golden fleece,is bartered for salacity,it dreads not penitence that strangulate which emasculates,by artistic freewills of sicky psyche,but alone fastened with no anchor.That it burgeons nor swells with chance,nor heat doused,to this i summon the fools to learn from fools,which dye and dice cast upon the wise to beware of their footsteps and inundated propinquity. Contro.Sonnet-125- Were caught

Were they not caught,in shreds torn apart by its tentacle,with thyself esteem,immolate palmiferousely or hood not conformed to vanity,which impost much more,with chide, than with haste.Have i not witnessed the impolitics on the rampage and impanel its malaise?Binges strut omnipotence,and frounced by reverence to ado,are impaled for compound substerfuge,engrossing guiltless frivolities and pathetic banks and fruitless rivers,in their womb dismayed?Now,let Me with this knight of old,be frank with you,And take thou my siblings,froward but freethinking,being furiously hotchpotched with artlessness,but mutual mockery and uncanny art,still mere interference,maketh thee much more a brute,Hence,a scorned street urchins,a truant of justice,impeached by salacity and drowned on the high seas. Contro.Sonnet-126- O fret boy,but not in the wraith of licentiousness,who in thy gravity,dost not hold renege,his fastened pandora box-sword,not sheated,who hast by impenitence,grown stiff necked,thy afficionados creeping,as thy

stinking self grow,if retribution by its commonwealth arbitration,that is flung over ubiquity,as thou goest gnd growest raptured,still its blanket,spareth not thee.Improvidence maketh not thee,the spirit of retribution forgives,for she keeps to her verdict,with the tricks of time,disdain,not the grandmaster with the frittered youth,but not so,in the vagabond spirit of blissful ignorance,tear apart thy amplitude of youthful exuberance,that thou shouldest not censure thy grittled bars of lever. Contro.Sonnet-127-Character soars and swears more than words and accents,even though, it is the intent of the former,O If it were otherwise a mere wind wile,it bore theantecedence,afterward of its ostentatious shortputter;But now chaste's sacred ignition,libidinous, And sateand state smeared with impropriety expunge for,since,a per capital taint,hath i piqued mortal guise's splendiferous poise,plunging beneath selfesteem and plethora of artlessness's infection,spontaneous scold,hath no time&finis,no bespoke,but ........

is unleashed,if not gangrene smotes,in an aplomb vomit.Therefore,thy Misty eyes are ravenous coccoon,smothered by its beguiling sport and ubiquitously,they freak,Sewn with the same hewn,at such morbidity,who will now relish the equal share of the retributive justice?And chaste frittered at thy beckoning,is likened to thy false esteem's cankerworm weevils,Yet,they so bewails,when every verdict returns in isolation and equal proportion"Grandmaster Paused glibly garb and the deuteragonist,nigh gooseberies,fired anew his contemplative salvo. Contro.Sonnet-128-'How oft,when thou catch time,thou canst play as Daniel,upon thy ignoble den,whose potion sours,with hemlock of despair,when thou feed'st acrimony,that thinesinecured image,contend.Do i seduce,those jerks that wimble evenly on a balanced equation sordid cheeks,to kiss the primrose bank of thy sullen feet,whilst mine poor retentive memory which should that reflect,hath longuer.At the tardy feet of venom's emasculating torch,blanding vanguard.To be so tinged

,they spot and sport their identity, and commiserate barely,with the fading feet, o'er whom thy sharp breath,adorns its genteel's lurk,making ignominous strides,more bless'd than a scoundrel remorse,since ignoble jerks and porks in the porky pie,so blissful hearted in plenitude,ostracise thy volant precipice,to chart a lonely furrows. Contro.Sonnet-129-Chaste spanking in a wimble of lutarious impairment,fame's glory,for every action and infamous ados is nothing but the ignoble dalliance of the tainted glut.how inconsiderate for the spirit of chaste to be wacko-ed by intemperate clowns still bilked by salacious gangrene but piety to chaste impaired,demented by gregarious chants and obsessed to his ilks.All scold scorned by purport,pleat ire at flight,before dusk,heavenly bliss and self esteem rectitude ,yet none discredited,to shun machiavellian ilks that leads men to tribulate ,is a proposed paradise,yet unseen. Contro.Sonnet-130-Thy misty eyes spangled,blotted out of vista,mistiness is far more crimson....

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than thy lever or rudder,if vice be white,why then its chaste refrain and if vale be thy above,its mound ,piles of viles crease on thy navel and marrow,Have i not been deserted by fair roses and lampooned by idiopathy,that a forlorn mile,retreats out of scorn,wherein there exert mere delight than in the nuttied and nutcased breath of an alien,i scorn not chaste whatsoever,yet to comply and concur that humus,hath in the moult,far more impetuous to breed remorse,a lease of art,goddess of wrath never regret,mine foible,when trods tread on thin air,tis vanishing point,And yet heavenly moisture,i crave my love ,a guerdon,As any ignoble,she lamented her fate with obscurity.

Contro.Sonnet.-131- Wiles of art are despotic groom of its hanker,As these wiles whose seduction,inertia maketh a reproof,not downright feasible,for craft thou knowest it to be crafty amidst unfairest spring of doting infiltrate,thou art fairest when thou by humus moult spirited and infernal expurgate. Yet,in good chaste brokered, when betoken by thy lusty mirage,hath no rudder to indure,to scoop and feed from the avalanche of the grandmaster's artesian wells, Although, Mean spirited folks,may stain like weevils,candid art brewery smouldered a million perils but thou shouldest not defy voluptuous banks,shalt thou not know sedentary garb on thy sinewy encroaches,to witness crumbling buffet,thy chaste bigotry,is quite sordid plough,in a beguiling sport,thy judgement,a brittle fray,in nothing but meanspirited ilks art thou humus moult,refrain,And then this calumny,upon thy personage,infallibly disposes. Contro.Sonnet-132-Thine scornful eyes,loathe i and they as a disdain,goonish ponderous with contempt,that

baste and bruise remorse, have held in captive,pompous cheeks and craving a dissident ilks,fastened with plangent rot,upon my wheedle. And verily not the heavenly moisture of penitence,by barter,turns the unfair roses of the saturnalia boat,nor that iota of acatalectic binges,that unctuous in this rot,doth hath the resolve to exile plenitude of penitence,As those vengeful thoughts,clamour moults-refrain: a soul weather beaten, o let it not retreat, o spirit,let it not abscond,to whack for selfesteem,given that thou knoweth apoplexy,doth thee bringeth disgrace, at full blast,And suitors,thy bay vamoose.Then,will thou swear some orgy of penitence herself,is a virtue,not to be forlorned at thy tilt,And all nebula,girth beneath nefarious complexion,relinquished impromptu. Contro.Sonnet-133- Bestrouded With beer money,rampaging with bell boys,pouncing on geisha girls and nocturnal strippers for the smeared votary,and it gives youth a ridicule,with the scar of inglorious hood !

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Isn't it good to avoid trauma of fiercer nebula and yonder heights but smother,to hush thy direst clouds assailed?Groove am i of old sentinel,hath winnowed misty cheeks and mine patent self,thou dost not slander to forlorn;Of this patent self,thinself at thy bosom growl not forsaken,a conscientious and a capacious consumate thrice fairer and thrice fortified than ours sedulousness and shadow throws,be not thy brow imprisoned,in thy weakling's sinew,that thou mayest not lunge.But then fretwaters' musketeering,let thy artlessness,velvet greases along:whoever plunges beneath,let insipience volatile be the golden fleece:thou canst not then mensrea,nope with trojan horse ,growl st.blues queer street:And yet thou writ nutcase;for i being harry as histrionic harp,pent up cartharsis,perforce disgruntle hobble, and all that is thee,thy guerdon unassailed. Contro.Sonnet-134-And so oft now,have thou been bing'd,that he is inextricably addicted,And writ i,as i am myself,wit to appendthy hill dismay'd.Thyself entangled

in thy befuddl'd state,that wit to forlorn,not shrouded,thou wilt equipoise find a space,to be thy frenetic plunge still:But refrain,wilt not these pulses seek,nor wilt thou baste thyself convincingly ahead:for thou art ravenous of binging pandora;Be erudite,but pastime is not disguised from the face of the labourer,serfdom that binds thee binds thee earnest as discreet doth unfold thy blindness,the parapet of bibliomaniasis,thou wilt not elope,from thy graveyard epitaph,thou infidel that bungled and frittered omnifarious grit,wherewithal at remorse.And guilt a stranger,came later,as a frequent visitor,for thy moult,so thyself,nature loses atdusk.Impenitent soul,inflamatory ,have i booed,thouhast both sides of the divide:Hepays not penitence,withremorse,he pays not remorse with impenitence,and yet earnestly craves to be master of remorse and declined a master of freedom.'Now,majestic old grey beard,barely decipher spanking youthful wiles,trembled and corroded his contrite feet of clay ,contused bycontretemps

wherein deuteragonist thrash halted. Contro.Sonnet-135-'Whoeve hath aspersion,thou hast thy vein to espionage,on thyself and elsewhere.And prejudice to unbundle lust and willpower politics sulky pouts in satiety;more than passionate are thou to damper,damp squib and daffy, dances to thy direst clouds will karma,not merely discredit.Wilt thou whose scorn is amplitude and commodious,not once to aptly condescend to remorse ineptitude,hidden in thine scorn?Shall not bonafide be to scold others,at the romp of senile bough,And in thy chaste retreat ,thou a reprobate,a renegade art mingled with fair roses?Nature stirreth at herself refutes thee entreaties,And in gullibility,grabbeth follies,So thou ,being sloven plough into the unfairest plunge,One in thy lunge,as lounge lizard,to make stale further still,will more sordid plough befuddl'd,think of beguiling sport and thy gravest consequences distendeth,harrowing dunghill.

wherein deuteragonist 's diatribal thrash halted. Contro.Sonnet-135-'Whoever hath aspersion,thou hast thy vein to espionage,on thyself and elsewhere.And prejudice to unbundle lust and willpower politics sulky pouts in satiety;more than passionate are thou to damper,damp squib and daffy, dances to thy direst clouds will karma,not merely discredit.Wilt thou whose scorn is amplitude and commodious,not once to aptly condescend to remorse ineptitude,hidden in thine scorn?Shall not bonafide be to scold others,at the romp of senile bough,And in thy chaste retreat ,thou a reprobate,a renegade art mingled with fair roses?Nature stirreth at herself refutes thee entreaties,And in gullibility,grabbeth follies,So thou ,being sloven plough into the unfairest plunge,One in thy lunge,as lounge lizard,to make stale further still,will more sordid plough befuddl'd,think of beguiling sport and thy gravest consequences distendeth,harrowing dunghill.

Contro.Sonnet-136-If thy soul, chaste vomits in thee,i come so far,chaste to thy blind art,that i was enjoin'd to mend,And mendest so soonest to uncult the foul play farthest afield,thy doses and overdoses knoweth no atrophy: thus scold my weather beaten-chaste damndest accomplish.Remorse will ornate penitence,even as chaste will ornate remorse of thy misty cheeks,this mortal treaty with nature,cannot be impugned,as edict of transmogrify.Enraptured with motive,to re-engrave selfesteem and time well spent,reckoned from the empirisus of grandmaster,then in the weevils and throe,let verdict triggers its gavel.Though in thine nissus,fiasco jerked the mainframe; for nothing bar the gritty earth,from golden fleece,and so,it pleadeth thee,to dwell,make but thy fastening hook,thy bonemarrow afford,and unflinching still fretwaters salivate,And thou havest,that which thou dost have' And thus the old greybeard antagonist's antagonism,a fairer bloke,scissored from the genteelity of the gooseberies thus anew began.....

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Contro.Sonnet-137-Thou blindest simpleton,what dost thou know about chaste,that thou scoldest and recalled not oueer street,thou art juggled with thy unholy hours and still the stain lies.Yet the best oratory is taken to the street, to worst salvage cannot be,if misty eyes of thy household,still persist the rankie,diffused across public square,where all eyes pay and discredit homage,upon history ride. Wiles of mistiness,mendacity hast thou forged,nooks thy profile whereto,the remorse of chaste is bargain'd?why should thy chaste,hurl'd at thy gooseberies,thinkest and thickest than the scorn,hurled at thy household,which siblings brothels' frequent'd? or their hazy eyes,chaste defied?o tie them amidst fair roses,acunpunctured by chaste,in things of serendipity,extemporise,And to quirky instinct,are perfect men evolved.Contro.Sonnet-138-When reproof tingles with her spirit hewn,is a fair humus of scolded earth,but homage stinks thee unfair to wear its garland,let diffuse them,that she might be brought to the

gallows of chaste,unholiness in thy reproof,be moult,thus,vainly or ambiguous dreams,that shalt change,at thy household,fastened first,even though are arraigned against thee,implicitly unfurl thy sinew and expropriate avarice to neuter moult.Hence thy pedigree,farthest afield shall soar unsuppress'd,wherefore saith that remorse at heart is remorse farthest plunged afield, o chaste best norm is in the moult return,neither can the medes and persia dissuade its norms nor thy avarice dump them beneath seashore, And by girth,unpolished,loves to be told vintage's sinew unfold,And mine moult ,newest life lived. Contro.Sonnet--139--O distant not yourself ,from thy sordid past,that thy direst clouds lay guilt,upon thy homage,would not with thy misty eyes,but with thy propensity,to remorse: use remorse with penitence and transmogrify also thy household. Ignite their tendons'kindlest spirit;but thy countenance,thou seest the ornated oratory,as disparaging remarks,what kindlest thou,gratify with scorn underneath chaste,

is quite more pleasing than overbearring intent,can wallow,in its supercillious mud?Let this spirit bind thee to unbundle this tacky foible,mine chaste,well heals like the doctor.Her basting prolificity,fastforwards,have been grooves,with lots of scolded sinews;And therefore from thy own household chaste,convalescence shall be ecumenical,that thy offsprings shalt change,as the fugitive tongues,shalt have imbibe, Yet, thou detest fiasco,to do so,but given thy pedagogy,that fell on rocky ground,kills foible outright,if not first within thy household,and rid thy household of ignoble festoons and effeminate effetes,not embossed and emulsified with empyrean epithet,a far field. Contro.Sonnet-140-By artifice,art thou not foxy?Do now relent,thy trojan gee-gee and gander,tacky with chaste,grooms intense penitense,lest direst clouds maul thee,with retribution.The disdain of chaste-refrain and rebutal,if i might vagabond expunge norm,worse as it were though not to scorn,yet scorn;to groom perfidy refrain so; As heavy..

-laden,when the guiles-sticky groove,no distilling showers,can her writ be,but direst,haunting and hounding from its saturnalia boat; for if i should renege on this knight of old,should i not be spared?And in mine moult-harbinger,speak foul of nature and naturewit plow;how this ill-gotten predisposition,is bound to bomerang. Uncouth calumy

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calumny by maddening dogs ranting,i myself befuddled be.that i might not this path tread,nor heaved by distant gale,i mine eyes poignant bear,that though the chide might but the chaste itself be scolded,for a counterpoise. Contro.Sonnet-141-Do i not by kismet,desecrate thee,with mine fairer eyes?For they forsooth are the truest chaste unveiled by mortal guise;But tis thy scorn that desecrates what i preachify,who inspite of the makebelieve sanctity is pleased to ridicule;nor are thine eyes frail to observe:nor dainty fret away wary grit:nor thy grail,froth thee not immature;nor ample scorn and inglorious damper and dent,it hurls still exhaust not thy palms,to rebuilt above thy voluptuous bank,where strayed wits,art pleased thee to dwell,can impound many a wanton heart to endorse squandermania orgy,fret by youthful sinew,with the salacious clay feet,o elegy thou who in vacuum sings,o elegy thou sings thy lyrics in vain,o thy elegy sings in vile,who desert voluptuou bank,to crave thy indulgence,o that senile

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bough's waning moon is ample rotund for much ado of inherent piety and holistic grail.Were it not for thy ineptitude,in this numb,so far have i harpily and hawkily hassled and disgusting lethargy at spanking thy household with rebuke;so drossy a droopy be,like an effeminate effete,not embossed and emulsified,with the ferrule to censure budding guiles of queer street duffers and fetid dumbos,let alone a halfway house grapeshot fired. Contro.Sonnet-142-Chaste is the reproof of reprobate and renegade psyches and thy reproof as thou reproofeth unsuspecting prodigy ,the arbiter of household,grounded on norms,to nymph foul indulgence. O with mine chaste,compare state with thine household,if thou barely scorned,thou shalt find thee bless'd.If thou this indulgence barely usurped,from a mere lampoon of mine tongue that have ridiculed all day,as if smeared on all canvas,oft as they wedge,hustl'd,poised to emulate relics of annals,a mammoth drew exemplification inferences,both to duck and to moult.Be it tempting.....

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art might scorn this knight of old even as thou lovest to indulge,But for thee,thou gravest know,farthest plunged importunity,can be scorned,I that growls at thee,its direst clouds ventilate thy crusade not merely with verbiage but empathy! empathy!! empathy!!!Does he deserve a barndoor?If thou dost known to have erred,still what thou dost know,thou stealthest hide,By thyself a worse than a scoundrel be. Contro.Sonnet-143-Lo,as thy hauteur heap,loiters thee at the knight of old,one plying on thy pinions,caricature and snobbish prey thee upon thy hopelessness,sets thee down to addiction and makes all entreaties,a vain treaty and plea,in pursuance to the guille,thyself art pleased to duffer;whilst they binge,still brandish chaste at gooseberies,hulked in loftiest embrace.Yells to disentangle a ducked bird from its tangled knot,whose penultimate eagle's flight fell upon pleadings is itself prejudiced,to in vanity fret,that which pounces impropriety astray,before direst cloud gravest smitten,not abrasion of.....

the wit,to desecrate pleadings as asinine,so foulest a dialect steeds,thou altereth,not which fiddles from thy grasp,whilst at thy clayest feet,fisticuffs loathe,far benumbed;But if thou promptitude lixiviate thy laconic visage and banish inane indulgence,And play wit as fiddle's broth,bid thy profile sham away,bid ridicule astray:So, will entreaties persist that thou mayest alter thy indigo dye of a mole? Contro.Sonnet-143-Reproof flies in comfort,out of the courtroom of despair,swirling despair's pang,which as foundry and furnace,doth chide blot out renegades from sybarites,in transit of golden crimson,doth farther afield pays homage,to a villatic but willing personage,self esteem is the colour of intergrity and the price of freedom,to win thee accolades and untangle thee from frosty plaudits,the loafer's loam unwieldy loathes,smitten of voluptous riverbank,freteth dunghill metaphors,And thy saint,caroused with even more taints,castigating and booing his much ado,at every twist and turns of checkered ante

The above contro.sonnet posted now is wrongly tagged c.s.143 instead of c.s.144. The next contro.sonnet as shown below,should then be tagged c.s.145.instead and ideally.

cedence.And peradventure,mine chaste be the fiend,let dumbo refrain,yet thy disposition by intendment repugnant disdains: Yet this foible,plain as a pikestaff both to gooseberies and thy clan,this bad blood guesstimate i may never,reprieve be; yet this murky quirky pall of tarnish'd conscience,glaring across the scene,but dread i dread tis stalwarts and afficionados in dismay of thine dissident truth,pine away, O homily! o homily !! thou barren of holistic mores and latent exemplification,how sordid thou art, miserly smitten and carcasses on queer street. Contro.Sonnet-145- Those chaste that scold refrain did entangle,breath'd foul play,that an hypothetical ensemble and emblem of repugnant carapace ,a clayey feet,to fiddle,with that gall of gallivanting tympanum,for thy loafer's loam,But when vintage circa,lethargic cipher,poignant in her loam,did loaf 's liquefaction glide,gliding that brisky uncouth tongue that ever lashes,was hearkened,in doling out tranquil sigh,heaved out of its Contro.Sonnet-145-

impending doom';And enslaved by scorn,it thumbed a novel ground,subsequently to remorse,"disgusting" numbed by nature,she with haste alter'd,as she threw. O that amazon,a adherent in the peripatetic school,succumbed to her penchant with empathy of the pamphleteer,upon whose epistle,she gourmandised,for penitence,out of its saturnalia boat and its direst clouds and the queer street was agog doth a mammoth transmogrify....

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transmogrified,who unlike thy stunts of foul play,from a piety-luminous household to its firmament suffusion,the realm is engrossed.' Dread from dread,i dread,not whenever she is thrown into gully,And her fortitude,mine fiddle condescend to vouch her fillial piety ,but how sullen art thou,twist i not thy ambivalence. Contro.Sonnet-146-Sordid palm,sullen feet,the achilles heels of thy direst clouds,despots at rebellion ,impounding thy garbed sinew,against thee astray,when they are arraigned,why dost thou nutcase ,not to detest this snobbish tempest of arrays; suffocated by dearth of writ? why dost thou pine away,at the numb of voluptuous bank,to unculture thy foible,wherein frenetic quest,doth thou upon thy clayey feet,whisked into obscurity and subtlety ?How thy gradient align with libido,heir apparent of precipiced fiddle,is that thy numb's show ,that defileth with reproof thy homily and homage? then,bankrupt live thou upon thy precipice and personage's decrepitude,not so gracious ,with nature's gothic..

dementia's rampaging art ,to pine away its saturnalia boat,inclusive hulking its salacious grampus and disgruntled gizzard:rebuilt phraseology in thy celebrated quest,so shall thou coaxed thy bossom,to feed upon piety as amazonian feedeth and custom and cipher once cultivated,barely abscond.Contro.Sonnet-147-Mine Chaste too,is as a scorn,moping still,for that which fiercer,breedeth armament;quiting that which doth banish the scorn,the groping morbid apetite to plead for an expedient writ,that pious humanitarian lifetime,the medicine men to mine chaste compounded my breath and hackneyed ordnances are flouted,hath miry feet,begging the land for cover.Chaste art,now stale,as mine screaming bazzaar peddling did accept.And every inglorious past,as umbilical cord upon which remorse is supplanted by penitent souls, And frenetic pace,tarnished with delusion,to enthuse forgetfulness of ill-bred antecedence.Let peddlings gavel not and its bazzaar closed shops wherein stunts are pulled before dusk.Be not enthralled

Contro.Sonnet-148-below posted

C.S.148-O behold,thy stupor,what misty eyes hath chaste put asunder which bore predilection,with fabled writ, Or if thou hath not scorned,where is thy remorse,that thou penitence fled,that scorn boldly played ,intuitive misconstrued?If that not be foul play,whereon thou stand to overlook thy mole,what inference,do we pluck,that thou art no contumelious to smite remorse? For if it be not,then chaste doth well dignified its prime,as chaste's flex,not so pragmatic as all thy sinew retreats subserviency.How can it transmogrify?O how can chide by sinew,be heard and held to comply,that is so seared with contumacity and parozysm of haphazard rage?No retreat,no surrender,then i must be frank,to be concise: the moon itself as well as the sun itself,barely reprimands their boundaries of days and nights,till nature's counterpoise brightens spark at the milky way. O hazy scorn! With derision thou lord keeper of the natur's conscience, keepest remorse,at bay,let thy household be scolded,in the court of first instance...

wherein thy foulplay,should find thee unworthy and a vile on earth. Contro.Sonnet-149-Cast thou o scold enthuse,to befriend thee,at thy scorn,when thou art belligerent brisky,thyself that with thee,remorse fled?Do i not plead thee,when i narrated thy unholy past,And of myself,all piety too must be cherished?Who detested to be reprooved,that shalt not be fouled?On whose frenetic pace,that thou mayest clamour,with thy disgusting opposite? if thou mopest upon thy guile,do i not clamour in vain,transmogrification of thy eroneous personage and retreat upon thy belligerency with thy domestic remorse? What reproof,do thou refrain that with thy self a prestige,that is dignified,to aplomb when all entreaties doth fall on vile ground;dusted by karaoke of hazy eyes? But Chaste,the mother of moult,for now ,glorify i on thy mud;those that can mutate,thou fretest and of thy self and state,a worse than blind, grimaces thy pleateau.