August 27, 2020

PROFESSOR ABRAHAM SONNETS'DIARY-SONNET 23

Apocalypse.To be blue funk,cock crow's conquest,that maketh a norm of the living earns morning sail and triumphant hills far away refrain,Lo! in the cosmopolitan junkets,when gracious palms alight with its booverboots,Burning under wiseacr'd physiogonomy,not creas'd,Doth homage pays to the seer of the apocalypse,Not grand amputee of the apocalypse,that karma bone's infection canst not salve,O timely apocalypse saveth thee adophobia,the cleft of time's fury and the intergrity of time, Of the fainthearted simpletons,servile in their inglorious majesty,Melifluous cymbals dainty to hear and harmony to dance its tympanum balls,And owlish eyes with its goblet,not motheaten,clamouring triumphant hills,Plays the apalling chess into thy salvation trottle, and

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