Contro-Sonnet 61-Is it in thy esteem that the sullen earth
should persist?
My salient
Sonnet 78- So oft have they indur’d the stigma for the
smeared eon
And faltered by masking days of treachery ,gliding in unfair trudge
As every delectable damsel has felt the nugget and nozzle of
thy
My salient
Sonnet 78- So oft have they indur’d the stigma for the
smeared eon
And faltered by masking days of treachery ,gliding in unfair trudge
As every delectable damsel has felt the nugget and nozzle of
thy
Manhood,
Contro-Sonnet-87-Let thy tongue be censured,thou zygomatic
perfidy of hell,
Thou art too dear to brash,honked by brash-tide,and in thy ample rave,thou
Knowest thy approximate reckoning ,itself,a ridicule by bile
casting ,
The charter of thy tongue ,makest thee filthy and unfair ,a
gratest,grating foul play,
Interred on the sands of time ,grinded by bonds of apoplexy,
And in thee ,vicissitude indeterminate trods ;for then how do I hold thee by thy ranting ilks of
arrant boloneys? And for thou o spasmodic ignescence ,wherein is thy remorse
,that thou callest thy remorse as if thou scoldest wield”st one,
Unfair play by unfair roses in thee ,wanton balkanised ,
this realm of sadistic lour ,circumnavigating and circumventing sullen brood
And so my patent self plum unswerving,becomes turgent ,to
smear in the foul play ,to whom ,thou gavest thyself ,thy bilest ,
And where providence art wast misfit , vilest summers
entreats carte blanche ,wherein arts and pleas pleads for humanistic arts,are
imprisoned for thy vampire s slucker “s mensrea ,and derailed but splendiferous
verdict caroused,Thus have I not an arbitrate in vile of vilest brook ,as
arbiter ,doth equity contends,in the wields of justice but waxing turgid
remorse to spike conscience “s weariness as drowsiness ,out of tart ,
How much more unworthy thyself in thy cause to refute to
powwow darkest hours.
Contro-Snnet-88-When shalt we be dispensed,with equity in
this guise and censure with equalitarian chaste ,the binocoloured scorn of time
,wieldest upon those ignoble sight ,flippant even on its soil of contest ,shalt
I not fight ,to prove thee vacuous, half heartedly ,though art conceived in thy
harrowing self,with mine own mundane intuition ,being scultured to twitch
thee,upon thy craft,
Can I not set a verdict in both raucous renegade ,that thy
shaft ,as grooved,shalt not be too wise than thee,that the infamy of thy direst
ebb,that to thyself and thy antagonist,that brawls with disdain,I cherish not
doing the vintage madness,a double vantage for me,to ridicule thy hood at the hours of sarcasm ,scathed
with unbridled libels ,So is thy kismet,to both I shall belong,none hyper
hagiolgical,none hypo hagiological and none beneath,that both in thy right ,thyself contends for
equity for equity at the gaming table ,a counterpoise will bear that equity
,wherein justice in the open gallery is the ultimate scorecard.
Contro-Sonnet 89- Sewer that by their bootstraps, thou didst
mendest not thy spontaneous craft for some biles ,driven mean spirited gall
,riveted by vulgarian fraction, now let the arbiter wades with the counterpoise .Thou
senile of the bough,comment on offense by equity ,that thou upon thy subtlety
,hast fallen beneath smokey earth,that intergrity to assume so,nevertheless ,of
thy lameness,showest them early augury to depart from Machiavelli,refrain not
from the scolding necessity of haughty hatchwork of youthful sinewy ,to neuter
rampaging minace,thou makest thee a gravest offence , and myself ,it turns to
castrate thee,thou profane antagonist ,why being acquaintance of derision and
uncouth tongue,thy paradise rejoices ,o beloved ,let thy words be scanty ,that
thou mayest watches over them and dwell in probity and fairness.regrail thy
thatched roof ,verdict is foul play, when thou didst cast the bile,to contest
the jungle of profanity ,this scorn to neuter thy self ,drove thy disciples
away,thy malediction,not fatter than thyself ,to vitiate this sullen realm,and
all vanquished no victor inferred,seeketh no reprieve,neither heave a sigh of
relief,nor remorse hastened instantaneously ,to trudge in procession,his
beneath, to whom,shall we blame apportioned? Moderate o verdict ,moderate o
justice o behold justice is mortgaged in the avalanche and jungle of arcadian bliss.
Contra-Sonnet-90-Then cast no bile when thou art pressed ,fewer
than none, know the intrigues of the flesh ,to hallucinate,when the shaft ,is a
gamist,thy deeds sublime unkemptly infiltrates,empathise,with the youthful
comedy of errors,lest thou be caught,thy holly self,I nthe contraption of the
guile ,And when this gallow and gaol ,thou hast tame and windy crust
overthrown,still never let out thy guard,when the temptress crows to thy unwary
shores,for petty slack undo mortal strength to spite blissful ignorance,so
shall I by mettle’s fierry be disharmonious,at the very stook of
machiavelli’s time of heinous fury,And
other quirky form of bile ,which now seemingly kindles broth to bile,in
concomitant,with retarded verve of the watchman.
Contro-Sonnet-91-Naturewit spares some revolution in the
heliacal,some revolution in the milky way,some in the terrestrial orbit ,some
in the incorporeal traverse,some in the socio-sphere,some in the psychomotive
force,though precarious above control,some in the vampire’s hatchery,some in
the vulture’s Trojan horses,albeit,cannot undo mortal strength ,and every sinew
cast ,that hath its uncanny hedonism,hath its vanity and vanity presses,whereon
its graveyard cast,to rest its eternity ,but
with these stints and stunts are not worth the relics of history nor sacred
biles to preserve long after thee.In one fell swoop countenance,adorned in
mortal wiles,thy counterpoise though, sturdier,hibernating beneath,could
crumble ,when thou art sallow,public infirmities atrocious bthan thyself and
loftier than thy sheath pretense,to sword over damocle and breastplate to defend .Thyself crumble
,smeared at thy vampire’s net and having crumble ,all scorns dally to jest .Why
art thou like Lydian in the jungle and Adonis in hell and vain direst stared
thee inanimity before thy bewitched sands of time?And when thou stringe’t
perfidy , thou wade this scorn with the senility of the bough ,behold thou
wretched of the nile!When thou stingest not ,cavil those that stirrest at thy
fall and thou didst become a stark
machiaveli when with impunity, thou art hatched .
Contro-Sonnet-92-But does thy hilt to stay sedate,in naivety
,surfeit to cavil,for stint of life is assured ,at every consignment of
distress?And man , none is spared of distress kits at every fora and romp of
vista.A bater trade of livelihood,with that sting hood shall abide in sanctity
and groove law of self preservation;then salve thou thy stratagem to warry at a
slight outbreak of its immanent wiles;when
with buffet of sinecure ,biles
break even ,and humour hath end.And warry state in thy loin clasp cold
feet,misty cheeks like its ilks,creep on thy hilted nerves,flexed than thy
voluptuous humour ,that thou didst defend,doth wither sickling vigour to
sickle,and to stigma thee,when thou art goof,with poof of pointificate and
knowest not the intrigues of time.O what a happy ending,every mortal craves to
live and happy to demise,a holly sage.But wiles of art flung ,stained to all
nymphs ,a luxate of loafers,grilled with this blot,devoid of laurels,did
they not daisy-kick in vile? This sting
stings thee greedily that thou mayest hurl censure at thy flirting and
voluptuous cascade of salacity.
Contro-Sonnet-93-How like paradise of pleasure ,doth thy
artistic wiles grow,
by that flurious template ,so shall I caution ,so art’s
wiles may seem hallucinating
At youthful zeal or zest cajoled,thou altered with thy
pensive drive ,might with
sensationalism,behived and ambushed to lour ,thy wiles abode
in thee,whereon
heart places a ransom ;for there can live no space for
caution to rest in this farrago
of homestead wiles
and street laden viles ,for which man is plunged,therefore
mortal knowest not its forte ,wrought in many
conscience sordid soils it trods
greedily
splashed epitaph of the grave ,is written in the forlorn
years and decrepit age summoned
but bliss in thy ignorance ,speakest thee froth unripe ,to
decree thy holistic crust ,that in
thy vanguard ,prima facie doth dwells in hallowed chambers
,whatever perfectionism
suggests arts are prone to ridicule of time,thy fast hanker and bent looks so dry than I
previously thoughts
,should nonetheless rigmarole but hence
vamoose ,how like blissful
nesciency’s froth doth thy atrophy ingrains.
Contro-Sonnet-94-How strange companies ignite the power to
hurt unguarded,some arts
Treacled with affliction and addiction ,doth adinfinitum
renews zealotry for caution,that
Barely do the
things,gregarious chant that flotsams ado, and a recluse and hermint in its
solitary confinement ,bohemian and mavericks,that thou
shouldest fret,and be imbued with
the heavenly moisture,whose graces infinite riches unspared,but
if caution in its loom hath no
loophole,to
tread,prior to sullen infection meet, most scrupulous souls,precious jewels and
fair
roses ,prevail,for
the grandest deeds ,nor thy wiles a lucerne for ignoble days,and time and space
cannot buy foulest loafs ,not distilled by good graces ,cartest away ,the
humblest price of freedom ,
far smarter than the rav’st end of a labourer lifetime.
CONTRO-Sonnet-95-How so much
dignified doth binges with no price for
self esteem,which like a gangrene ,tacky in the frangible psyche,doth weaned
mortal guise ,with the apparition of lassitudinous flight ! O what potion ,an
unfair roses doth sewer beneath compare ,doth thou with ingenious lewd
engross!That mutilate of personage ,that outlives a livelihood,whereon guiles
speak foul of thee posthumously cannot dissuade but in kindle of eulogy
;blinking thy post mortem self ,with the infamy of the days of youth,O what a
foible of moles have numbed each vice
nomenclature ,which for their stain
,unmasks thy person’s personage,where moles’ imprisonment ,doth uncovers
every boggy swamps ,And all thy wiles are turned against workers of iniquity
,that only fairer eyes can see!Beware but trade caveat ,with caution ,the
hardest precision by glorious bay ,doth unleashes rotund tutelage .
Contro-Sonnet-96-By faults,mortal
strength is known,by its wobble ,mendest passion thronged ,the true identity of
art is then laid bare,and to evade beguiling sport ,graces in thy hand,graces
in thy feet ,in the temperate charm of achiles heel,thou art by molasses pedagogical ,to mend thy lost
pride ,froth over sinking sand, thou makest an identity ,even the scoundrels
,pay thee a homage,to slay fallacy from
thy realm and for thyself to be known and dignified with diadem,mortal goon
must mend in earnest ,even for flimsies,irredeemable,never vacillate to
mend,how merry to mends might thy heels be castrated and vulpine smeary,if like
a tear ,it could by its open wound sore deeply ,still mend,how many mends
,mightiest thou so earnestly treat for
thy perfect self,thou would use the finicky of thy acatalectic state ,but
thou shouldest mince and evade,I love erudite men that are learned by their faults ,and art in
constant repair,mine is thy good reproof
to censure thee of thy seemingly unflawed foibles.
Contro-Sonnet-97-Mortal faults
could not be patched but mended ,and could not be mended unless arts as you
were there ,from thee censured pleasure returns ,and self esteem that thou
trainest ,safeguarded,what inklings have I felt,what days of treachery,it
bringeth,what grooves irredeemable, thronged ubiquity! And yet thy cloy,behold
stern for the broad hearted ,the teething pang ,the harrowings on every
front,bearing the python’s potion,wanton crust of slack like lepers emaciated
gaunt caged on a spot,immobilized in a lifelong strangle,and estranged from
mortal engross of gregarious chants,yet this avalanche blanked grill,seemed a
throe,to the voluptuous,but optimism of
benediction fabled and nugatory,And thou o sloth ,wriggled from thy
fate,as gilded dawn ambushed,or if thou salve tis with mendest moult,a good cheer for the brightest
day,that left thee out of the lurk of treachery.
Contro-Sonnet-98-
Note-A contro-Sonnet is an irregular pattern of not a fixed
14 line poems
With any of its several fixed formal patterns of lines ending or rythmes
.It could be 15 line
Till 20 line poems ,with irregular patterns of versification
.
Contro-Sonnet-99-Fair roses on thorny soil nimble and every
chide on a foible ,
Mendest Achilles so soonest,
When perforated by kindle remorse,to sheath nor steal
penitence away,
When didst thou apprehend, remorse holistic personage ,which
on thy
genteel vouchsafe,
For flighty passion
doth dwells ,in my foible’s
trauma ,thou art too erudite ,
The thrust I cherished,to mend thy heels ,
And bud of thy grief rots away ,which had stolen thy prime
youth ,then the
fair roses return,
As blushing shame departs ,another salvo of tempest
begone and thy
Exemplary as thy vista , mimicked across the board ,and to
fault runs,
If thou canst not mend ,for the theft steals the soul away
,and a bottomless
Waif,art thou be ,in the burning sun and in the blackest
moon ,more foibles
Art thy nature endorsed ,enveloped mortal heels ,sticky as
thy cavernous self ,
Yet mendest loops,that
I could see,but fatal or lethal ,that it had stolen thy
artless ease.
Contro-Sonnet 100-When thou art no more, a muse to the youth
,with dissident vigor,
Thou nimblest thine with thy perfidy and flagitious mensrea,to speak fanfare
O the unknown days ,could not thy sullen banks avert.?
What art thou become a muse or a ruse that thou cringest,so
tardier ,to pour
plaudits ,on that tacky velvet ,that smears thee of all thy
delight ?
Expend’st thou thy art on some frivolities,groping the dark
,to scorn waifs in
thy vicinage ,
Let muse binds thee that you may be erudite and let it binds
thee and redeem
thy soul.
Insalubrious yore ,so bubbly learnt ;clamour tingle to thy
fret ,that doth thy frets
lay ,
And gives thy intent and ,both craft and volition ,hence rises
from the misty ruse .
My graven yarn unleashed,
If craft be any wriggle ,there enclosed ,if any idol,be it
satire or ridicule as time s
Furious fury , recompense thee ,
Greedily repays ,it repays ,with the conscience of the
mower and the eyelids of
paroxysm ,
Give my retinue ,chaste ,stronger than time ‘s indebted pawnbrokerage repays
So that thou providential craft,prevent’st Sword of the
Damocles ”
Voluptuous
grandmaster ,thrashed at its rudderless bank ,oozed to belch his
catharsis
Contro-Sonnet -101-“ O vagrant psychotic,when shalt thou be
erudite ,even in thy
neurotic sorehead ,
To abstinence fathom from smeared personage and rescind thy
marrow from the
gladiators of
mendacity?
O thou twin folkores of kismet ,in my vestige trails
repel;and so doth thou not renege
And herein relinquish my postulate,
Make me more retreat to endear my crust and refute remorse
entreaties,that ‘time’s
Marbled arrow is on your side?’
Time’s fury spares no rod to spare none ,verdicts to lay
,but precedence is precedence,
If not hounded ,with prejudice and umbrage ,
That he wills to cavil constrain’d thee that thou be stiff
necked ? implore not salacity in
thy grovel and
reproof binges in thy hazy vein ,
To ferry thee peonies as freedom and thou a legato of self esteem ,that much
gloriously
Outlive thy ephemeral days ,
And be eulogized by unforeseen garlands peradventure posthumously and yonder days
Not yet born ,
Then ,if that be thy pledge , then do thy earnest twinges , and
let the muse bind thee,to
Thy esoteric oath and arcane earth ,
To make fair roses of rudderless banks out of consternation
of sullen earth jaundiced .
Contro-Sonnet -102-Mine trauma ,aggravated ,though more
empirical by its kindle.
I care not a hoot
,though aggrandized ,at my senility ;that empiricism is ignited by foibles ,
Whose commonwealth public corpus ,doth extract customs and
folklores , o my crust was
Antediluvian,but in
the meantime,was weaned ,to lay it to heart ,with thee my calf ;not the
Pang is less objectionable and inscrutable now than when the
painstaking improvised bruises ,
Did sting my foible,but that flamiferous stigmatization
smears my senile bough ,and sweet sense
,grown in its shrubs
,tames my piety ,therefore emulate my path,
I ,fret away from primrose hold my tranquility,and be not
with hazy cloud,kick up the daisy.
Contro- Sonnet-103-Alass,what muse from ruse,my crust exude
forth that thou mayest gape
open time at thy
disposal ,dispenses justice,
Self esteem steep’st
inflect thee ,with sweet antecedence
than its rave of ephemeral hedonism,
O cavil me not as it were with he ,if no one can alter
antecedence,look in thine mirror and behold visages undissimilar ,with divergent bearings ,that
blunt gait as each path goeth divergate crucible,
This tacky lines unspared undo disgrace and grace;Were it
not for foibles ,then striving to mend
antecedence and moult ,To lush and smite the spite that was well goofed before
or smear even the senile bough ,that before now was sloshed?
For no other mangled veins do I get and my tendons spare
,than the repugnance of thy heel to moult ,and dolt to spare ,
And farthest much more,than in thy sullen earth pedagogy
–reprooved,your own discreet-wit showers
thee.when perception greases visage.
Contro-Sonnet-104-Behold,unfair roses ,senile bough ,strikes
in earnest and twinges at a furlough ,
Such seems your folly still and methinks fair girth never
can be fathomed at moult,triple volition at moult,have from the furnace stook
triple fiasco,triple moults feeds rudderless bank,such dainty ,thy verdicts smacks lusty pale
benumbed,in vaunt of callous accompaniment,have I witnessed to tarnish latitude of impeccable homage ,uncouth moores burning in
furnace fires ,
Since Vicious stealth, startled satire ,springs tempestuous
perverts,which yet ardous arcane poofs,
Ah yet doth lust ,hinterlands ,in backward gaits,wrought like a lepers street fatigue ,hath potion
,recompense unspared ,for goof of its umbrage ,that thou despairest deeds ,be
not specious
Contro-Sonnet-87-Let thy tongue be censured,thou zygomatic
perfidy of hell,
Thou art too dear to brash,honked by brash-tide,and in thy ample rave,thou
Knowest thy approximate reckoning ,itself,a ridicule by bile
casting ,
The charter of thy tongue ,makest thee filthy and unfair ,a
gratest,grating foul play,
Interred on the sands of time ,grinded by bonds of apoplexy,
And in thee ,vicissitude indeterminate trods ;for then how do I hold thee by thy ranting ilks of
arrant boloneys? And for thou o spasmodic ignescence ,wherein is thy remorse
,that thou callest thy remorse as if thou scoldest wield”st one,
Unfair play by unfair roses in thee ,wanton balkanised ,
this realm of sadistic lour ,circumnavigating and circumventing sullen brood
And so my patent self plum unswerving,becomes turgent ,to
smear in the foul play ,to whom ,thou gavest thyself ,thy bilest ,
And where providence art wast misfit , vilest summers
entreats carte blanche ,wherein arts and pleas pleads for humanistic arts,are
imprisoned for thy vampire s slucker “s mensrea ,and derailed but splendiferous
verdict caroused,Thus have I not an arbitrate in vile of vilest brook ,as
arbiter ,doth equity contends,in the wields of justice but waxing turgid
remorse to spike conscience “s weariness as drowsiness ,out of tart ,
How much more unworthy thyself in thy cause to refute to
powwow darkest hours.
Contro-Snnet-88-When shalt we be dispensed,with equity in
this guise and censure with equalitarian chaste ,the binocoloured scorn of time
,wieldest upon those ignoble sight ,flippant even on its soil of contest ,shalt
I not fight ,to prove thee vacuous, half heartedly ,though art conceived in thy
harrowing self,with mine own mundane intuition ,being scultured to twitch
thee,upon thy craft,
Can I not set a verdict in both raucous renegade ,that thy
shaft ,as grooved,shalt not be too wise than thee,that the infamy of thy direst
ebb,that to thyself and thy antagonist,that brawls with disdain,I cherish not
doing the vintage madness,a double vantage for me,to ridicule thy hood at the hours of sarcasm ,scathed
with unbridled libels ,So is thy kismet,to both I shall belong,none hyper
hagiolgical,none hypo hagiological and none beneath,that both in thy right ,thyself contends for
equity for equity at the gaming table ,a counterpoise will bear that equity
,wherein justice in the open gallery is the ultimate scorecard.
Contro-Sonnet 89- Sewer that by their bootstraps, thou didst
mendest not thy spontaneous craft for some biles ,driven mean spirited gall
,riveted by vulgarian fraction, now let the arbiter wades with the counterpoise .Thou
senile of the bough,comment on offense by equity ,that thou upon thy subtlety
,hast fallen beneath smokey earth,that intergrity to assume so,nevertheless ,of
thy lameness,showest them early augury to depart from Machiavelli,refrain not
from the scolding necessity of haughty hatchwork of youthful sinewy ,to neuter
rampaging minace,thou makest thee a gravest offence , and myself ,it turns to
castrate thee,thou profane antagonist ,why being acquaintance of derision and
uncouth tongue,thy paradise rejoices ,o beloved ,let thy words be scanty ,that
thou mayest watches over them and dwell in probity and fairness.regrail thy
thatched roof ,verdict is foul play, when thou didst cast the bile,to contest
the jungle of profanity ,this scorn to neuter thy self ,drove thy disciples
away,thy malediction,not fatter than thyself ,to vitiate this sullen realm,and
all vanquished no victor inferred,seeketh no reprieve,neither heave a sigh of
relief,nor remorse hastened instantaneously ,to trudge in procession,his
beneath, to whom,shall we blame apportioned? Moderate o verdict ,moderate o
justice o behold justice is mortgaged in the avalanche and jungle of arcadian bliss.
Contra-Sonnet-90-Then cast no bile when thou art pressed ,fewer
than none, know the intrigues of the flesh ,to hallucinate,when the shaft ,is a
gamist,thy deeds sublime unkemptly infiltrates,empathise,with the youthful
comedy of errors,lest thou be caught,thy holly self,I nthe contraption of the
guile ,And when this gallow and gaol ,thou hast tame and windy crust
overthrown,still never let out thy guard,when the temptress crows to thy unwary
shores,for petty slack undo mortal strength to spite blissful ignorance,so
shall I by mettle’s fierry be disharmonious,at the very stook of
machiavelli’s time of heinous fury,And
other quirky form of bile ,which now seemingly kindles broth to bile,in
concomitant,with retarded verve of the watchman.
Contro-Sonnet-91-Naturewit spares some revolution in the
heliacal,some revolution in the milky way,some in the terrestrial orbit ,some
in the incorporeal traverse,some in the socio-sphere,some in the psychomotive
force,though precarious above control,some in the vampire’s hatchery,some in
the vulture’s Trojan horses,albeit,cannot undo mortal strength ,and every sinew
cast ,that hath its uncanny hedonism,hath its vanity and vanity presses,whereon
its graveyard cast,to rest its eternity ,but
with these stints and stunts are not worth the relics of history nor sacred
biles to preserve long after thee.In one fell swoop countenance,adorned in
mortal wiles,thy counterpoise though, sturdier,hibernating beneath,could
crumble ,when thou art sallow,public infirmities atrocious bthan thyself and
loftier than thy sheath pretense,to sword over damocle and breastplate to defend .Thyself crumble
,smeared at thy vampire’s net and having crumble ,all scorns dally to jest .Why
art thou like Lydian in the jungle and Adonis in hell and vain direst stared
thee inanimity before thy bewitched sands of time?And when thou stringe’t
perfidy , thou wade this scorn with the senility of the bough ,behold thou
wretched of the nile!When thou stingest not ,cavil those that stirrest at thy
fall and thou didst become a stark
machiaveli when with impunity, thou art hatched .
Contro-Sonnet-92-But does thy hilt to stay sedate,in naivety
,surfeit to cavil,for stint of life is assured ,at every consignment of
distress?And man , none is spared of distress kits at every fora and romp of
vista.A bater trade of livelihood,with that sting hood shall abide in sanctity
and groove law of self preservation;then salve thou thy stratagem to warry at a
slight outbreak of its immanent wiles;when
with buffet of sinecure ,biles
break even ,and humour hath end.And warry state in thy loin clasp cold
feet,misty cheeks like its ilks,creep on thy hilted nerves,flexed than thy
voluptuous humour ,that thou didst defend,doth wither sickling vigour to
sickle,and to stigma thee,when thou art goof,with poof of pointificate and
knowest not the intrigues of time.O what a happy ending,every mortal craves to
live and happy to demise,a holly sage.But wiles of art flung ,stained to all
nymphs ,a luxate of loafers,grilled with this blot,devoid of laurels,did
they not daisy-kick in vile? This sting
stings thee greedily that thou mayest hurl censure at thy flirting and
voluptuous cascade of salacity.
Contro-Sonnet-93-How like paradise of pleasure ,doth thy
artistic wiles grow,
by that flurious template ,so shall I caution ,so art’s
wiles may seem hallucinating
At youthful zeal or zest cajoled,thou altered with thy
pensive drive ,might with
sensationalism,behived and ambushed to lour ,thy wiles abode
in thee,whereon
heart places a ransom ;for there can live no space for
caution to rest in this farrago
of homestead wiles
and street laden viles ,for which man is plunged,therefore
mortal knowest not its forte ,wrought in many
conscience sordid soils it trods
greedily
splashed epitaph of the grave ,is written in the forlorn
years and decrepit age summoned
but bliss in thy ignorance ,speakest thee froth unripe ,to
decree thy holistic crust ,that in
thy vanguard ,prima facie doth dwells in hallowed chambers
,whatever perfectionism
suggests arts are prone to ridicule of time,thy fast hanker and bent looks so dry than I
previously thoughts
,should nonetheless rigmarole but hence
vamoose ,how like blissful
nesciency’s froth doth thy atrophy ingrains.
Contro-Sonnet-94-How strange companies ignite the power to
hurt unguarded,some arts
Treacled with affliction and addiction ,doth adinfinitum
renews zealotry for caution,that
Barely do the
things,gregarious chant that flotsams ado, and a recluse and hermint in its
solitary confinement ,bohemian and mavericks,that thou
shouldest fret,and be imbued with
the heavenly moisture,whose graces infinite riches unspared,but
if caution in its loom hath no
loophole,to
tread,prior to sullen infection meet, most scrupulous souls,precious jewels and
fair
roses ,prevail,for
the grandest deeds ,nor thy wiles a lucerne for ignoble days,and time and space
cannot buy foulest loafs ,not distilled by good graces ,cartest away ,the
humblest price of freedom ,
far smarter than the rav’st end of a labourer lifetime.
CONTRO-Sonnet-95-How so much
dignified doth binges with no price for
self esteem,which like a gangrene ,tacky in the frangible psyche,doth weaned
mortal guise ,with the apparition of lassitudinous flight ! O what potion ,an
unfair roses doth sewer beneath compare ,doth thou with ingenious lewd
engross!That mutilate of personage ,that outlives a livelihood,whereon guiles
speak foul of thee posthumously cannot dissuade but in kindle of eulogy
;blinking thy post mortem self ,with the infamy of the days of youth,O what a
foible of moles have numbed each vice
nomenclature ,which for their stain
,unmasks thy person’s personage,where moles’ imprisonment ,doth uncovers
every boggy swamps ,And all thy wiles are turned against workers of iniquity
,that only fairer eyes can see!Beware but trade caveat ,with caution ,the
hardest precision by glorious bay ,doth unleashes rotund tutelage .
Contro-Sonnet-96-By faults,mortal
strength is known,by its wobble ,mendest passion thronged ,the true identity of
art is then laid bare,and to evade beguiling sport ,graces in thy hand,graces
in thy feet ,in the temperate charm of achiles heel,thou art by molasses pedagogical ,to mend thy lost
pride ,froth over sinking sand, thou makest an identity ,even the scoundrels
,pay thee a homage,to slay fallacy from
thy realm and for thyself to be known and dignified with diadem,mortal goon
must mend in earnest ,even for flimsies,irredeemable,never vacillate to
mend,how merry to mends might thy heels be castrated and vulpine smeary,if like
a tear ,it could by its open wound sore deeply ,still mend,how many mends
,mightiest thou so earnestly treat for
thy perfect self,thou would use the finicky of thy acatalectic state ,but
thou shouldest mince and evade,I love erudite men that are learned by their faults ,and art in
constant repair,mine is thy good reproof
to censure thee of thy seemingly unflawed foibles.
Contro-Sonnet-97-Mortal faults
could not be patched but mended ,and could not be mended unless arts as you
were there ,from thee censured pleasure returns ,and self esteem that thou
trainest ,safeguarded,what inklings have I felt,what days of treachery,it
bringeth,what grooves irredeemable, thronged ubiquity! And yet thy cloy,behold
stern for the broad hearted ,the teething pang ,the harrowings on every
front,bearing the python’s potion,wanton crust of slack like lepers emaciated
gaunt caged on a spot,immobilized in a lifelong strangle,and estranged from
mortal engross of gregarious chants,yet this avalanche blanked grill,seemed a
throe,to the voluptuous,but optimism of
benediction fabled and nugatory,And thou o sloth ,wriggled from thy
fate,as gilded dawn ambushed,or if thou salve tis with mendest moult,a good cheer for the brightest
day,that left thee out of the lurk of treachery.
Contro-Sonnet-98-
Note-A contro-Sonnet is an irregular pattern of not a fixed
14 line poems
With any of its several fixed formal patterns of lines ending or rythmes
.It could be 15 line
Till 20 line poems ,with irregular patterns of versification
.
Contro-Sonnet-99-Fair roses on thorny soil nimble and every
chide on a foible ,
Mendest Achilles so soonest,
When perforated by kindle remorse,to sheath nor steal
penitence away,
When didst thou apprehend, remorse holistic personage ,which
on thy
genteel vouchsafe,
For flighty passion
doth dwells ,in my foible’s
trauma ,thou art too erudite ,
The thrust I cherished,to mend thy heels ,
And bud of thy grief rots away ,which had stolen thy prime
youth ,then the
fair roses return,
As blushing shame departs ,another salvo of tempest
begone and thy
Exemplary as thy vista , mimicked across the board ,and to
fault runs,
If thou canst not mend ,for the theft steals the soul away
,and a bottomless
Waif,art thou be ,in the burning sun and in the blackest
moon ,more foibles
Art thy nature endorsed ,enveloped mortal heels ,sticky as
thy cavernous self ,
Yet mendest loops,that
I could see,but fatal or lethal ,that it had stolen thy
artless ease.
Contro-Sonnet 100-When thou art no more, a muse to the youth
,with dissident vigor,
Thou nimblest thine with thy perfidy and flagitious mensrea,to speak fanfare
O the unknown days ,could not thy sullen banks avert.?
What art thou become a muse or a ruse that thou cringest,so
tardier ,to pour
plaudits ,on that tacky velvet ,that smears thee of all thy
delight ?
Expend’st thou thy art on some frivolities,groping the dark
,to scorn waifs in
thy vicinage ,
Let muse binds thee that you may be erudite and let it binds
thee and redeem
thy soul.
Insalubrious yore ,so bubbly learnt ;clamour tingle to thy
fret ,that doth thy frets
lay ,
And gives thy intent and ,both craft and volition ,hence rises
from the misty ruse .
My graven yarn unleashed,
If craft be any wriggle ,there enclosed ,if any idol,be it
satire or ridicule as time s
Furious fury , recompense thee ,
Greedily repays ,it repays ,with the conscience of the
mower and the eyelids of
paroxysm ,
Give my retinue ,chaste ,stronger than time ‘s indebted pawnbrokerage repays
So that thou providential craft,prevent’st Sword of the
Damocles ”
Voluptuous
grandmaster ,thrashed at its rudderless bank ,oozed to belch his
catharsis
Contro-Sonnet -101-“ O vagrant psychotic,when shalt thou be
erudite ,even in thy
neurotic sorehead ,
To abstinence fathom from smeared personage and rescind thy
marrow from the
gladiators of
mendacity?
O thou twin folkores of kismet ,in my vestige trails
repel;and so doth thou not renege
And herein relinquish my postulate,
Make me more retreat to endear my crust and refute remorse
entreaties,that ‘time’s
Marbled arrow is on your side?’
Time’s fury spares no rod to spare none ,verdicts to lay
,but precedence is precedence,
If not hounded ,with prejudice and umbrage ,
That he wills to cavil constrain’d thee that thou be stiff
necked ? implore not salacity in
thy grovel and
reproof binges in thy hazy vein ,
To ferry thee peonies as freedom and thou a legato of self esteem ,that much
gloriously
Outlive thy ephemeral days ,
And be eulogized by unforeseen garlands peradventure posthumously and yonder days
Not yet born ,
Then ,if that be thy pledge , then do thy earnest twinges , and
let the muse bind thee,to
Thy esoteric oath and arcane earth ,
To make fair roses of rudderless banks out of consternation
of sullen earth jaundiced .
Contro-Sonnet -102-Mine trauma ,aggravated ,though more
empirical by its kindle.
I care not a hoot
,though aggrandized ,at my senility ;that empiricism is ignited by foibles ,
Whose commonwealth public corpus ,doth extract customs and
folklores , o my crust was
Antediluvian,but in
the meantime,was weaned ,to lay it to heart ,with thee my calf ;not the
Pang is less objectionable and inscrutable now than when the
painstaking improvised bruises ,
Did sting my foible,but that flamiferous stigmatization
smears my senile bough ,and sweet sense
,grown in its shrubs
,tames my piety ,therefore emulate my path,
I ,fret away from primrose hold my tranquility,and be not
with hazy cloud,kick up the daisy.
Contro- Sonnet-103-Alass,what muse from ruse,my crust exude
forth that thou mayest gape
open time at thy
disposal ,dispenses justice,
Self esteem steep’st
inflect thee ,with sweet antecedence
than its rave of ephemeral hedonism,
O cavil me not as it were with he ,if no one can alter
antecedence,look in thine mirror and behold visages undissimilar ,with divergent bearings ,that
blunt gait as each path goeth divergate crucible,
This tacky lines unspared undo disgrace and grace;Were it
not for foibles ,then striving to mend
antecedence and moult ,To lush and smite the spite that was well goofed before
or smear even the senile bough ,that before now was sloshed?
For no other mangled veins do I get and my tendons spare
,than the repugnance of thy heel to moult ,and dolt to spare ,
And farthest much more,than in thy sullen earth pedagogy
–reprooved,your own discreet-wit showers
thee.when perception greases visage.
Contro-Sonnet-104-Behold,unfair roses ,senile bough ,strikes
in earnest and twinges at a furlough ,
Such seems your folly still and methinks fair girth never
can be fathomed at moult,triple volition at moult,have from the furnace stook
triple fiasco,triple moults feeds rudderless bank,such dainty ,thy verdicts smacks lusty pale
benumbed,in vaunt of callous accompaniment,have I witnessed to tarnish latitude of impeccable homage ,uncouth moores burning in
furnace fires ,
Since Vicious stealth, startled satire ,springs tempestuous
perverts,which yet ardous arcane poofs,
Ah yet doth lust ,hinterlands ,in backward gaits,wrought like a lepers street fatigue ,hath potion
,recompense unspared ,for goof of its umbrage ,that thou despairest deeds ,be
not specious
