SONNET 66 &67

Sonnet.66-How like a remorseless hath their windy sail froth been,From this benumb lies,the eldorado of abrasion,What pugnacious menace they felt, what darkest days have they been swindl'd!What clemency with karma dost this portends?And yet the cancerous cluster clung,was an omni-season infection,This cliche of valley beans and cleverdicks noblest with their villainous and haphazard,Overbearing the cloister of the hilly beans,Unlike their clodd'd cloud,nuanc'd after the convent's cloggy bent;Yet this fair roses'closet drama seem'd plumpy closelipp'd cadavers by its tentacles,But dainty coldblooded of proselytes,feather'd in primrose bank,by the blue moon balloons, For the colonies of brash bravado and feckless epicure sneaks into unscrupulous loins,Or if they know'tis with so fringes a comatose luminous,That comme ilfaut ,commensurat and incommensurate blanket'd the isle of man like a fog.

Sonnet.67-The backward violet,a mammoth moron did chaste needful and not the sparsely forward violet;Whose genteel nuances and commensurate meekness,not submerged at the grinding mill of golden fleece enterprise,The inglorious potion whence didst thou pugilistic punchdrunk clod,thy ailments still a mamoth infects,Why art thou muse the throng that thou oblivious of commeilfaut,To compress its etiquette and ethos into shambolic bathos,in a vengeful canker beaten blue?What a gnashing pathos!This conceit'd purple compunction barely felt,which on thy bluster cheek,mamoth complexion lies,Still not in concession spellbound concer

t pitch concocted.

Betwixt this hilly beans wherein forward violet erupts,unfair roses unfair roses still scornfully rose impetuously,on brash tide of bravado,feckless though nervous,still vicious take their conge from the vulgarian fraction into apotheosis and sieve themselves from the fractious folks of backward violet,compound framebreakers,Whose crumple of perpetual blushing had purloined hegemonic polity with their brutish congress,And for this usurp and theft,stolen nirvana evanesced in smoke the isle of man,and mortal breath,an endangered species hung in the balance,And machiavelli they sing as they congregate the brutish congress.