SONNET 96

Sonnet-96

-As history not thyself but for thee by the red robes of naturewit reckon'd;Beefing thee thyself up,which will thou be chronicled long thereafter,As tender plant,in thy fiddle and not fodder,her flourishing flowers decompose not posthumously,Presume silvermoon gilded birth and gilded passage either on thee a lifetime bestow'st,Thou gavest thee,thy fortitude all to it,and long after may it live. Waow,history,so truly speaks and unflinching rays by forward violets art not being found wantom,And let this cyclone to my navel eulogis'd,How fervent was i with my ferocious girth unmoored, And every piffle,beneath whack of gregarious chant do i abhor,From the palate of audacity,choked up to the glorious herald,most worthy of grandeur and dearest reproachable,I and sterling kismet we,by its overbearing harrangue, weary not,let alone sloth naturewit's alimony at its greymaterised bank,And the whole caboodle of ontology to whom we poureth encomium.'gainst time's forays,relics judgest thee foul and grandiose