Sonnet 47- An intrinsic intro of so stagnating a fateful nocturne have i spar'd,Bickering not the mountaintop with judgemental eyes of the dickens,jiving and gyrating with sonorous music,the instrumentalists pixilat'd with humorous sound of its mighty pianos,dancing pinkly to melodious cymbals.Purging but alarmist fire of pulsatory-ting'd scarecrow,that overwhelm'd shrinking violet's pschos and its immanent hangover that stall'd his personage,Betwixt mine scalding hot and clemency,a battle line is drawn,And each doth scatterbrain turns schmaltz,unto its schema;When that transmogrify is underpin'd,art is scrumptious for the scum of the earth's biles ,driven away, Or not lilylivered himself with no sighs doth pother,And to the scum of the earth's vilous resins,Upon weary trounce of shank's pony,barely endear'd,
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