SONNET 82

Sonnet.82-O how much more fairway doth grandiose bounty spring,By that sweet sacrifice with which a nuke and gallantry doth kill the fated calf!for that fauxpas fatigue which doth in its routine sloth,the fathom fatalism have engross,as deep as a bibliophiliac, As the feebleminded tinkers of featherbrain'd carthasis,flutters on such hangovers,wantonly ridiculed as fly away,

O how the milky way dost its crucifix bear,alighted and checkered by selfsame firmament of an automagnetic charm,Whereon the stars in their carte blanche merry go round its spangl'd voyage and cohesively clumps,dancing calypso feverishly,in their eliptical oval at the procession of a somewhat conjugal bliss,And dress their brace state,out of sunset into sunrise,

Permit me to peregrinate this axiom in wonderment and digress the mutation of the much contested ontological bigbang theory intoto,for the season of anomie diluted by backward violet.These seasons of anomie that with the self assertic epileptic assent of the unruly antipathy that make an ass of its personage did transmogrify detest,The whingely whimsical where every wastrel doth whirligig,Will play tyrant to the fritters of time and the auntsallies of the incontestables,And that autarky a boring ruse which unfairly doth excel fritter'd silvermoon