ELEGY TO THE SADOMASOCHISM

contro.Sonnet-71-Do not cry for the direst clouds,when they by windbound recompense strike,do not pest,when thou art pilloried by karma,thou shall hear thy survival,when convalescence bells rings,to graft thee with a scorecard,of the morning bliss once again,that thou art insulated,from this villest soil, with the bilest hell,if thou salve thee ebuliently well,then tread carefully,recall not thy wit of erstwhile hell,for i foretaste thee to repent,that in thy fair flowers,thou canst counterpoise,stalwarted by heavenly moisture,rejuvenated arcadian bliss.If binges stink at a furlong,should make thee,ware of dire consequences,when intent is meshed,with empirisus, rationality is enthroned,O if thou witness once again its sullen gravity,thou lookest upon thy gravity,when i peradventure,thou compounded with salacity,witless do,Does thou with empiricism adores,for where it is transplanted,smarter deeds are supplanted,and fatal men of errors,belching with comedy of errors,decay and wanton crest,found fatal ,

found in the city.Not to rehearse, by memory its forecast of dire consequences,could proof the fatal, lest the wise become fooler and the fooler ,becomes foolest and chaos fly on the street,in the sea,in the air and in the land.Froward not benign thee,off thy ass. Contro.Sonnet-72- Now avoid ridicule,lest men should tast vice,with shame,what values should thou subscribe to make thee show allegiance,to them,afterwards of posthumous penitent-pensive tilt,rebuke quirky camaraderie,at a forlorn mile,neuter their jungle,for in thy grit, thou cannot by intendment be soiled,when thou art resolved.Unless,thy art so virtuous spared,thou waiver but abundantly whacked,to do more damage to dainty passions,on the st.blues.not yet salvaged,from the executioner's noose and defray plaudits instead,for salacity and boozing,to beguile,what mincing words would torrently pass.O lest thy time,heart may seem brutish,in that foul tongue and murky customs,speak guile of thy nature,and self esteem,interred in thy sloven earth,when

when thou art still fowled and germed by salacity,And still liveth with a strange creature,in an alien land neither thee wacky nor thy wacko,as a vulgarian,vulgarises thee canst nebula doused,shall thy resolve be free.Art thou not fied with lifelong stigma? And thou should normal trades thy love. Contro.Sonnet--73-That time of benediction,thou mayest,in thee behold,when fair flowers and sweet roses,or avalanche or artesian wells do blanket erstwhile slothful soil like a chilling fog.Upon those mountainous allied pleateaus,which protrudeth against the valley,dunghill metaphors and hellish sward,Barefaced ridicule haunted,where flung thy art,was impugned by it,in thee,thou sweetest revenge,shall be sinew of a remorseful state,the blinking emerald of a new dawn,long after the sunset of the primrose bank.Which by its direst clouds,doth take thee asunder,for the contest of intergrity and much maligned,much evaporated selfesteem,that seals up the greatest battlefield of mankind, aristamagnetism,In thee,thou

seest the glorious,are captivates at its wits'end,that quirky gales be of slothful soil,doth blown away.As glowing fire charcoals,whereon,it stoop,must obey,consumed with bias,with which it was passionately glowed,this perception thou shouldest not binge,which maketh thee,an indeterminate human superior,to which,wits end must be mated with perception. Contro.Sonnet-74-Be thou contented,with selfesteem,through which thou settest customs and binding practices,when thou art faced,with below paradigm,ridicule thy bloated potion,fly everewhere thy legacy.without importunity,thou wouldest not be bailed,from it,and thy life ,a ridicule before thy time.Shower thee,some interest in the reminiscences of sloven earth and rudderless banks. Still with thee,shalt thou stand,when reviewest thy sordid past?thou dost recall none,to consecrate thyself,against impending dooms; for sullen earth cannot be but sullen eath,hidden beneath quirky pall of vapid idiosycrazies. the by superiory clash of human species.So,then thou hast

lost thy esteem,to the debris of the earth,caught in the welters,amidst welshers,villains of unkemptsoil,whose direst cloud,is symptomatic of sword of damocles pending,and a pint of ridicule,is in the natureof its conjectured sorcery.Contro.Sonnet-75-O thou my legatee,inherit,digest and inhale,this paubulum,in a crimson season of fair flowers,gathered in their lows and prime,barely rot away eternities.In this tranquility,grim-death shall be supplanted headlong,in a lifelong voyage.As betwixt,esteem and disrepute,is found in my struggle,not to defray infection and infected sickos,contaminate of slothful earth,to pilfer thee away,from treachery,struggling for the most pristine art,then worsted by its gravest clouds,most times true remorse is by sober reflection,than extrapolate and exhortation by alien tongue,to hood thy signatory of appended intent,starved of misdeeds of an obstreperous earth.Save what is reflected and true remorse is candidly betoken,to care much morethan a hoot,for the transmogrified art....

06/27/2017 5:38am

or binges in its eternal memory wither. Contro.Sonnet-76-Why is that refrain,so tedious a bile,for thee to bear? insofar as dire consequences,its variegated piles of agony,indisposed, to change? why wit time fret,thou derided? why cherish i still repentance ever the same and keep that intent in a bustling ado,that every item of pensive tilt,doth tardier dismayed,exuding their penultimate influences and where prior,they damage,O salve thy good,remorseful intent,thy ultimate price to freedom,this wish i did not spare of thee and mine bone of contention,so all mine intent is drawing thee of arrogance,frugal with penitence to thyself and to manifold sapien species,for as thou resisteth,to remorse thy spouse,in both old and new wounds,thou mouldest findeth good mettle,to guilt thyself. Contro.Sonnet-77-Thy benighted rupture will show thee incurable and moorings filthy.And thy plunge contemptible,hurled beneath nefarious norms,gullible imprint,shallowed thy fist.And of this stray of dastardly act,moment......

reprieve,is requisite balm, of sombre wrinkles,glaring in the face,of mouth's tumour,that disengages glibly spoken ,of rancourous memoirs,tearing us apart,that thou by sinister intent ,stealth mayest abnegate them,within time's masticating furacious theft of fate.Hence,we reach a poreless shores and all entangled nets and geniculated axis,still begging to pay the price of freedom. Look,recall what history says and tells thee and depart in earnest,from this wasteland laden with squandermania venoms,of vultures rampaging conquest of mean-less or gilded shores,And thou with thy nursed progenies,will then salvage,the grueling hordes and envoys of saturnalia boat,from this blissful ignorance.And this convalescence,soft as the glow,shall lucrative explore,in compendium,the impecable whole. Contro.Sonnet-78- Songs Of Adamatine,did Sadomasochist,barely refrain to tinker."So Oft have they indur'd the stigma for the smeared eaon.And every delectable damsel,has pelt the nugget and nozzle of my manhood,And beneath thy

joyance,sandness full.thy holy eyes,that taught thy youthful days,to dope with same salacity,that thou now tagged saintly,should be censured,for being haunted with improvidence and insensate to empathy,twinkled by youthful sinew,how come thou deign,so froth spined liberty in troth,like an ulster for righteousness,Had grooved turgid licentiousness,in thy youth,to later transmogrify and days of sacerdotal engrave leapfrog, And time's aethetical tolerance of clemency,gave so much grace period,to penitence.Yet,be not ample empathetic of this gracious gesture,from that which earnestly i inquire from thy household,whose tacky influence,thou didst gravely exploit for remorse.Art thou not born of the same crust,that thou mayest bamboozle for penitence? foibles of the mortal parlor earth,dost take time to mend and arts,with no ebullience,may tardier gross remorse:for when thou dost penitent tilt,thou art fully remorse,giving graces,ointment to sigh a good sigh of relief,entrenched from the stigma of the days of yore

Hence,let entreaty causes thee,to apply the golden rule,and be as wise as a fool is wise,in the days of treachery. Contro.Sonnet-79-Whilst loathe i did twinge for thy peculiar resolve?Mine wonderment versed alone,had all the magical spells of an expedient censure,from thy foul tongue.But now,my gracious grooves are plumpy enthralling,to douse thy hackneyed resolve.And my providential treat,doth give another torch,unleash i therefore,a censure,to sewer thy traduce,travailing calumny,to cajole thy witless jackdaws and cult of sadomasochist like his ilks,deserves earnestly also,the applique of golden rule,to balance uneven equation,yet what of thee, thyself,thy guile,doth braggart. Thou didst target youthful villainous sinew,when thou didst rebel,against the holy grail,time lends thee grace and amortise o pawnbrokee and yet,with the eruption of senility of the bough,thou restless cajole hapless youth, hence be censured from what belabour,thou didst now belabour,to impress modesty and chastity,upon the breast..

06/27/2017 8:26am

of swashbuckling youths?And nature found it a fraud,sour than thy sullen cheeks are,frosty plaudits, heave i thee,they boisterous sacerdotal......... that frittered away youthful sinew as days of youth,with same offence.No panygery to thee,as thou didst stink hell.Then curse not thy stars,but to thee,thou,thy volition and sensationalism,thy voluptuous bank,that froth thee to err,to bilk. Contro.Sonnet-80-O i shall not entreat thee,when thou art assymetrically muse,pouring an equitable traduce,when doth i encroach thy bellyaching navel. And In that frosty plaudits,thereof fritters away,all thy verve in seeking adherents and hagiologies,to make thee guilt,laden and tongue tied,but since thou presumed bulky nuances,wide as the ocean;thy foul tongue earnestly twinges sullen earth and gooseberries as the bitterest clouds,doth bear its sagging sail,even with my sordid intendment,far more,superior tact,to thy fabled wimble upon thy sullen earth,doth perfectly broach subject well.

06/28/2017 2:11am

As minesenility in clamourous guilt doth unremittingly infects,And refrains this wacko,in the tempest of direst clouds;not that the frittered dusk,is less nonchallant in thy hone than when the inglorious guilt did hover impending doom,but that weird lewdness to the hilts,taunts every bough that rose too late,And songs and cries in the day and night of a weary womb,lose their torch,to find thee,therefore like the ambiguous shores,as thou art,will i not hold my peace,because thy voluptuous bank,shall contend with passing days and passing night.Contro.Sonnet-113- Behold,what nursery,this illbred garland brings,that having such a contempt of thy youthful sinew,to show his recklessness,the baseless dot,gets nowhere,thatthou shouldest,in undissimilar context,fritterthy youth,with lust!Then,when it hathnature's recompense as a malediction ! O exonerateexogenous influence,let alone fingers them.Letthy libido,thy confinest grail,contends that overbearing blunt,that stalks quite so easily intendment,in struggling times

and during struggles,with thy innerself, were it not the direful cross of hades,why then the strife and striving to mend,to elope from the scar of infamous mucky dusk,that was well known to us?For to no wiles,thy tendons succumb,than of thy subserviency and humour to mutate;And passion,much vaunted passion than in thine remorse could penitent morsel by mucilage,bite,thy own naturewit,shows thee not unripe,when thou art by thy mortal winkle,transmogrify. Contro.Sonnet-114- O unfair roses,thou can never survive,nor a ridicule this knight of old,for thee,were been smeared,when first thy gauchy eyes lust'd,a typified obscene stings,wherein addiction,cannot deny,even doses and overdoses cannot repel,mustering from its infection,rendered fugitive,selfesteem'sglorious heirloom,billows upon billows,wobbling,voracious volcano,volleyed with roving eyes,imrisoned by lust,a hilly mountebank of incestuous ridden inflamation,a hone have i witnessed,like the perfume of Arabian,burntpersonage,stinks gluttonously,like a lark

06/28/2017 7:28am

across the board,since first thy foible,i uncover,which still yet sordid plough,oh yet entanglement doth still knots,like a tangled bird,brisky for freedom and redemption at hand, so thy mucky earth,which methinks still doth smears,hath infraction as friction and thine eye may be obscured,so thy sloven soil for dread of recompense,thou age with peril that defy insulation,ill bred mucilage,as fodder for burning fire of karma. Contro.Sonnet-115-Let not mine chaste be dubbed a lethargy,nor my kindred as a dumbshow,since all mine plea and supplication be,to mammoth youth of uncanny days persist.Sacred is my chaste now and still a hotpotato,in a wondrous pool of guilt and trauma,therefore mine chaste to indefiniteness conform'd,excite ostentations to blot out its mark. Contro.Sonnet-116-In this benigh,a conjugal bliss of chaste doth lends its bent above misshap, and chaste is not chaste,which impugns substance to take effect or bends its metalic sinew,even when altered, o it strays flawed,upon its taint consumate

and grating blot.It is a dreary mist to every wanderlust brew whose graphology,untainted beams forth,though in hideous gram.Time's fury is punitive and a punitive orgy,though rose cheeks unnerved,within his sinewy contumacity's complexion grumpy: chaste alters not,with this gruffy ground and superheroic lust,but blankets diffused for mutation,to the precipice,if this be comedy of errors and upon intent be proved with retribution,barely i freestand nor no chaste without stanchion. Contro.Sonnet-117-Be now no more a naughty jerk of grotesquerie,that thou hast slanted every turn,wherein great chaste maketh a frenetic of a guttersnipe,do not recall the dearest foul play,whereto all flaws to tie thee,to guillotine by dusk;that frequency,thy fleeting kismet been modulated by bent of fairest springs. Contro.Sonnet-118-And given to time to heal thy fitment mortise,to retreat from customs that thou hast hoisted over direst clouds and inglorious nights,which should ferry substance for remorse,furthest plunged from..

farthest plunged from maudlin shelf,both binges and lust,drowned beneath,And equity quell,thou prejudice;tally remorse with bandwidth of penitence,bud but do not shoot weird at thy volition in thy disgusted prowl,since mine pleading is writ to wit,at thy wit's end,caresses,did i perchance strive,to fizz substance,the purport and calibration of thy omnifarous chaste. Contro.Sonnet--119-Make thy engross more keen,with grit as natural flavour,to remorse with alacrity,palate and tendon instigates,as to boost floodtime and refurbish thy flotilla,to distend and tame unknown,we retreat to fizzle chaste,when we err,even so,being froth not unripe,clamourous of never ending contempt,to belch acrimonious seasons,did i enthuse mine unfair girth,And a sick patient,that pleads no entreaty,brew lethiferous potion of pitfall,to be flinty ire that there was viable,thus tenets in chaste and chaste-bashing commerce,to anticipate foibles,of foul play unborn,i,of checkered intense peccadiloes,grew to treasonable venom......

And with such scorecard,by annals,trickles down with sledge hammer on anvil,unfair roses,which flung vile upon vile,abashed by ailment ,creases be,But then true pedagogy dreads everything in scandals,a potion that so fell sick of manhood. Contro.Sonnet-120- Were you not once,countless times chaste repellent,to befriend mediocrity at thy spring?And for that impalement,thou vilest rabid with kamikaze frankestein,to spite axiom that neccessity is the mother of invention,unless thy nerves were brass,penitence thou distilleth not,at thy ferrule,for if thou were by precarious unmoved,as i reproof thy mused despot and pariah stance as a nation,have more relief and sigh to heave.To plow,how once a terrain,wherein i was suffocated,in thy oblivion,that our dread of gales,unknown might have subside,mine ignoblest wit,how hard postulate pomp,And so,soon to you,as thy guile crimson,twice times a decipher,fugitive bossom of the grovelling bandwagon jumpers,poisoned humble salve,Over thy prance,shouldest thou prate,and thy

noisome wacko of pandora box,as thy wit and satire be enamoured beyond omnibus sorts. Contro.Sonnet-121-Tis better to know,impatience is vile and king of viles esteem'd.And to resist reproof,thus overwhelmed deign,to censure incivility,not by garnished lust,but by furtive poise poignant winces,Give trepidation to thy beguiling sport? Or its requiems,why are they many times sung in vain,which in their renege,volcanoic eruption of pandora box-incivility,dismantle what i dispose . None excruciating on purport,am i not a bridge builder,that i am and they fleas,in a fleabite at that strand ,must earnestly depart,At mine affront,thy alert tendon-stimulating,mortifying and mutilating,immersed may be poignant,though they themselves(erroneous youths inferred),dissuade remorse,By their quirky corpus,fiendish bandwagons,doth barely spare,unless this dickenish penultimate antecedence,and all men are vile in their art and misdemeanour is not immuned from a typified corpus of wights and mucky cheeks,garnished by lust......

Contro.Sonnet-122-Thy foibles,thy crucibles,are within mine tempest boulder,undazzled,edified with befitting love,which slings above that inclemency,stinking froth abide beyond ignoble frequency,beyond omni-vantages,even walkie-talkied by its frequency modulation of fugacity,Or so,to much aversion,so long and sturdy as the fastened belt,and he marbled with rotund wit,by severity to apprehend;till a morsel of the impiety,calf its malaise,thy ignoble reputation,never for once,can be equalled.That parquet of pariah osmosis,could not but arouse its momentum,nor efflux thy grit and oleaginous thresh of desideratum.therefore to show penitence avidly,was i with unslackened fortitude,boiled forth, to thirst remorse in thy bone marrow,libate them,to keep away from vices and garner restitution of insolvent esteem.

06/28/2017 11:53pm

Contro.Sonnet-123- Refrain but no guile,that thoushalt not be stained,in that which thou doeth. Tentacles,vintage circa diffused with the freshest lewd,barely wanes,methinks, are sordid past still hauting,noneless to scorn they are sting,but arediffusions of novel ailments,enticed by dreary dolts and also perverts of an incarcerated but fathom of an imprisoned ego.Our fate are multipronged and differ and thus,we are whatwe choose to be.What thou dostmortify upon thy navel that is salacity,And rather make thee,apalling fastened to a deathknell thanremorse,that can be nurtured ,haveenslaved thee,thy subconscious ego,and thee thyself both mortify by ill bred gangrene,nowa wanderlust at thy vicinage,northy motherland eulogised,for evidence is the taste of judgement,wedoth lie,with facts,fabricated byscorn of chastity and votiveplummeted and this shall ever notsworn,not to miss.I will be chaste at thy goofy neck,and chaste's scythe,shall not be unsword'd.Indeed, Chaste Is a censure and a ridicule of reckless art.

Contro.Sonnet-124-If mine taste turns stale,dread chaste,by mine kid,a stain and desecrate abstain,it might for exemplification's cascade be a mirage,As subconsciously subject to chaste's hatred,weeds upon weeds,shall they grow,it was by accident,an evasive craft;it hurls into open contempt,nor a recess from scorn'st scorn,obtains by neath of its enthralling enthralment unsubdued,whereto,the passion for golden fleece,is bartered for salacity,it dreads not penitence that strangulate which emasculates,by artistic freewills of sicky psyche,but alone fastened with no anchor.That it burgeons nor swells with chance,nor heat doused,to this i summon the fools to learn from fools,which dye and dice cast upon the wise to beware of their footsteps and inundated propinquity. Contro.Sonnet-125- Were caught

Were they not caught,in shreds torn apart by its tentacle,with thyself esteem,immolate palmiferousely or hood not conformed to vanity,which impost much more,with chide, than with haste.Have i not witnessed the impolitics on the rampage and impanel its malaise?Binges strut omnipotence,and frounced by reverence to ado,are impaled for compound substerfuge,engrossing guiltless frivolities and pathetic banks and fruitless rivers,in their womb dismayed?Now,let Me with this knight of old,be frank with you,And take thou my siblings,froward but freethinking,being furiously hotchpotched with artlessness,but mutual mockery and uncanny art,still mere interference,maketh thee much more a brute,Hence,a scorned street urchins,a truant of justice,impeached by salacity and drowned on the high seas. Contro.Sonnet-126- O fret boy,but not in the wraith of licentiousness,who in thy gravity,dost not hold renege,his fastened pandora box-sword,not sheated,who hast by impenitence,grown stiff necked,thy afficionados creeping,as thy

stinking self grow,if retribution by its commonwealth arbitration,that is flung over ubiquity,as thou goest gnd growest raptured,still its blanket,spareth not thee.Improvidence maketh not thee,the spirit of retribution forgives,for she keeps to her verdict,with the tricks of time,disdain,not the grandmaster with the frittered youth,but not so,in the vagabond spirit of blissful ignorance,tear apart thy amplitude of youthful exuberance,that thou shouldest not censure thy grittled bars of lever. Contro.Sonnet-127-Character soars and swears more than words and accents,even though, it is the intent of the former,O If it were otherwise a mere wind wile,it bore theantecedence,afterward of its ostentatious shortputter;But now chaste's sacred ignition,libidinous, And sateand state smeared with impropriety expunge for,since,a per capital taint,hath i piqued mortal guise's splendiferous poise,plunging beneath selfesteem and plethora of artlessness's infection,spontaneous scold,hath no time&finis,no bespoke,but ........

is unleashed,if not gangrene smotes,in an aplomb vomit.Therefore,thy Misty eyes are ravenous coccoon,smothered by its beguiling sport and ubiquitously,they freak,Sewn with the same hewn,at such morbidity,who will now relish the equal share of the retributive justice?And chaste frittered at thy beckoning,is likened to thy false esteem's cankerworm weevils,Yet,they so bewails,when every verdict returns in isolation and equal proportion"Grandmaster Paused glibly garb and the deuteragonist,nigh gooseberies,fired anew his contemplative salvo. Contro.Sonnet-128-'How oft,when thou catch time,thou canst play as Daniel,upon thy ignoble den,whose potion sours,with hemlock of despair,when thou feed'st acrimony,that thinesinecured image,contend.Do i seduce,those jerks that wimble evenly on a balanced equation sordid cheeks,to kiss the primrose bank of thy sullen feet,whilst mine poor retentive memory which should that reflect,hath longuer.At the tardy feet of venom's emasculating torch,blanding vanguard.To be so tinged

,they spot and sport their identity, and commiserate barely,with the fading feet, o'er whom thy sharp breath,adorns its genteel's lurk,making ignominous strides,more bless'd than a scoundrel remorse,since ignoble jerks and porks in the porky pie,so blissful hearted in plenitude,ostracise thy volant precipice,to chart a lonely furrows. Contro.Sonnet-129-Chaste spanking in a wimble of lutarious impairment,fame's glory,for every action and infamous ados is nothing but the ignoble dalliance of the tainted glut.how inconsiderate for the spirit of chaste to be wacko-ed by intemperate clowns still bilked by salacious gangrene but piety to chaste impaired,demented by gregarious chants and obsessed to his ilks.All scold scorned by purport,pleat ire at flight,before dusk,heavenly bliss and self esteem rectitude ,yet none discredited,to shun machiavellian ilks that leads men to tribulate ,is a proposed paradise,yet unseen. Contro.Sonnet-130-Thy misty eyes spangled,blotted out of vista,mistiness is far more crimson....

06/29/2017 5:00am

than thy lever or rudder,if vice be white,why then its chaste refrain and if vale be thy above,its mound ,piles of viles crease on thy navel and marrow,Have i not been deserted by fair roses and lampooned by idiopathy,that a forlorn mile,retreats out of scorn,wherein there exert mere delight than in the nuttied and nutcased breath of an alien,i scorn not chaste whatsoever,yet to comply and concur that humus,hath in the moult,far more impetuous to breed remorse,a lease of art,goddess of wrath never regret,mine foible,when trods tread on thin air,tis vanishing point,And yet heavenly moisture,i crave my love ,a guerdon,As any ignoble,she lamented her fate with obscurity.

Contro.Sonnet.-131- Wiles of art are despotic groom of its hanker,As these wiles whose seduction,inertia maketh a reproof,not downright feasible,for craft thou knowest it to be crafty amidst unfairest spring of doting infiltrate,thou art fairest when thou by humus moult spirited and infernal expurgate. Yet,in good chaste brokered, when betoken by thy lusty mirage,hath no rudder to indure,to scoop and feed from the avalanche of the grandmaster's artesian wells, Although, Mean spirited folks,may stain like weevils,candid art brewery smouldered a million perils but thou shouldest not defy voluptuous banks,shalt thou not know sedentary garb on thy sinewy encroaches,to witness crumbling buffet,thy chaste bigotry,is quite sordid plough,in a beguiling sport,thy judgement,a brittle fray,in nothing but meanspirited ilks art thou humus moult,refrain,And then this calumny,upon thy personage,infallibly disposes. Contro.Sonnet-132-Thine scornful eyes,loathe i and they as a disdain,goonish ponderous with contempt,that

baste and bruise remorse, have held in captive,pompous cheeks and craving a dissident ilks,fastened with plangent rot,upon my wheedle. And verily not the heavenly moisture of penitence,by barter,turns the unfair roses of the saturnalia boat,nor that iota of acatalectic binges,that unctuous in this rot,doth hath the resolve to exile plenitude of penitence,As those vengeful thoughts,clamour moults-refrain: a soul weather beaten, o let it not retreat, o spirit,let it not abscond,to whack for selfesteem,given that thou knoweth apoplexy,doth thee bringeth disgrace, at full blast,And suitors,thy bay vamoose.Then,will thou swear some orgy of penitence herself,is a virtue,not to be forlorned at thy tilt,And all nebula,girth beneath nefarious complexion,relinquished impromptu. Contro.Sonnet-133- Bestrouded With beer money,rampaging with bell boys,pouncing on geisha girls and nocturnal strippers for the smeared votary,and it gives youth a ridicule,with the scar of inglorious hood !

06/29/2017 9:25am

Isn't it good to avoid trauma of fiercer nebula and yonder heights but smother,to hush thy direst clouds assailed?Groove am i of old sentinel,hath winnowed misty cheeks and mine patent self,thou dost not slander to forlorn;Of this patent self,thinself at thy bosom growl not forsaken,a conscientious and a capacious consumate thrice fairer and thrice fortified than ours sedulousness and shadow throws,be not thy brow imprisoned,in thy weakling's sinew,that thou mayest not lunge.But then fretwaters' musketeering,let thy artlessness,velvet greases along:whoever plunges beneath,let insipience volatile be the golden fleece:thou canst not then mensrea,nope with trojan horse ,growl st.blues queer street:And yet thou writ nutcase;for i being harry as histrionic harp,pent up cartharsis,perforce disgruntle hobble, and all that is thee,thy guerdon unassailed. Contro.Sonnet-134-And so oft now,have thou been bing'd,that he is inextricably addicted,And writ i,as i am myself,wit to appendthy hill dismay'd.Thyself entangled

in thy befuddl'd state,that wit to forlorn,not shrouded,thou wilt equipoise find a space,to be thy frenetic plunge still:But refrain,wilt not these pulses seek,nor wilt thou baste thyself convincingly ahead:for thou art ravenous of binging pandora;Be erudite,but pastime is not disguised from the face of the labourer,serfdom that binds thee binds thee earnest as discreet doth unfold thy blindness,the parapet of bibliomaniasis,thou wilt not elope,from thy graveyard epitaph,thou infidel that bungled and frittered omnifarious grit,wherewithal at remorse.And guilt a stranger,came later,as a frequent visitor,for thy moult,so thyself,nature loses atdusk.Impenitent soul,inflamatory ,have i booed,thouhast both sides of the divide:Hepays not penitence,withremorse,he pays not remorse with impenitence,and yet earnestly craves to be master of remorse and declined a master of freedom.'Now,majestic old grey beard,barely decipher spanking youthful wiles,trembled and corroded his contrite feet of clay ,contused bycontretemps

wherein deuteragonist thrash halted. Contro.Sonnet-135-'Whoeve hath aspersion,thou hast thy vein to espionage,on thyself and elsewhere.And prejudice to unbundle lust and willpower politics sulky pouts in satiety;more than passionate are thou to damper,damp squib and daffy, dances to thy direst clouds will karma,not merely discredit.Wilt thou whose scorn is amplitude and commodious,not once to aptly condescend to remorse ineptitude,hidden in thine scorn?Shall not bonafide be to scold others,at the romp of senile bough,And in thy chaste retreat ,thou a reprobate,a renegade art mingled with fair roses?Nature stirreth at herself refutes thee entreaties,And in gullibility,grabbeth follies,So thou ,being sloven plough into the unfairest plunge,One in thy lunge,as lounge lizard,to make stale further still,will more sordid plough befuddl'd,think of beguiling sport and thy gravest consequences distendeth,harrowing dunghill.

wherein deuteragonist 's diatribal thrash halted. Contro.Sonnet-135-'Whoever hath aspersion,thou hast thy vein to espionage,on thyself and elsewhere.And prejudice to unbundle lust and willpower politics sulky pouts in satiety;more than passionate are thou to damper,damp squib and daffy, dances to thy direst clouds will karma,not merely discredit.Wilt thou whose scorn is amplitude and commodious,not once to aptly condescend to remorse ineptitude,hidden in thine scorn?Shall not bonafide be to scold others,at the romp of senile bough,And in thy chaste retreat ,thou a reprobate,a renegade art mingled with fair roses?Nature stirreth at herself refutes thee entreaties,And in gullibility,grabbeth follies,So thou ,being sloven plough into the unfairest plunge,One in thy lunge,as lounge lizard,to make stale further still,will more sordid plough befuddl'd,think of beguiling sport and thy gravest consequences distendeth,harrowing dunghill.

Contro.Sonnet-136-If thy soul, chaste vomits in thee,i come so far,chaste to thy blind art,that i was enjoin'd to mend,And mendest so soonest to uncult the foul play farthest afield,thy doses and overdoses knoweth no atrophy: thus scold my weather beaten-chaste damndest accomplish.Remorse will ornate penitence,even as chaste will ornate remorse of thy misty cheeks,this mortal treaty with nature,cannot be impugned,as edict of transmogrify.Enraptured with motive,to re-engrave selfesteem and time well spent,reckoned from the empirisus of grandmaster,then in the weevils and throe,let verdict triggers its gavel.Though in thine nissus,fiasco jerked the mainframe; for nothing bar the gritty earth,from golden fleece,and so,it pleadeth thee,to dwell,make but thy fastening hook,thy bonemarrow afford,and unflinching still fretwaters salivate,And thou havest,that which thou dost have' And thus the old greybeard antagonist's antagonism,a fairer bloke,scissored from the genteelity of the gooseberies thus anew began.....

ELEGY TO THE SADOMASOCHISM

Contro. Sonnet-45-The combat betwixt lust and love,tore down,the ages,should the trojan war,unabashed by wiles of maddening dogs,ranting around Hellen Of Troy,kidnapped by paris of Troy,Gone are the glorious times,and permit me to observe,consequences and retribution,tiptoe and pathfind art of offence and defence,the first offence,not minding its consequences,thereafter,cognisancf of sword of damocle swears and quieker to defend,but behold,retribution is the reward and price of....

offence.desideratum for freedom,is scuttled,given its imperious psychological influence,for when the brutish storms are percolated,in graver guilt of squandered esteem to thee,thy life as slaves to lust,can barely be retrieved,plummets beneath this lifelong punch of blistering struggle,somewhat eternal guilt ,until engraving is done and the boozers,pimps,sluts and philanderers,come to remorse,sweet roses,dainty to smell are much far away,by those rancour,meted to thee,in the headlong rash of struggle,who without resolve but impervious,now cannot be healed by tender care of solicitude,of thy unfair sojourn,masquerading freewill,blight of convalescence,but then no longer,assuage,And return to remorse,to garnish thy faith a restitution and regurgitates thy self.Contro.Sonnet-46-Conquest of desideratum,not in itself an anathema of mortal aplomb,How to eschew offence with dire consequences,blurs a misty eyes,thy indulgence,blots thy eye,the freedom of veracity,thyself endorse that thou in fable,doth lie,a deeper

06/24/2017 12:08am

sore,that can be only be cured in due time,but maddening rants,doth negligence pay a sloth,And says that consequences,do not matter,to justify salacity,as the norm and public domains,a hint of dire consequences of meretriciety,all miscreant come to obeisance,And by the consequences,their wanderlusts submerged misty eyes nebula,due its bibliomaniasis and sangfroid mettle in part,And to stress, the throng of obnoxious goof,is to fret tuturship, and remorseful wraith,to the rescue. Contro.Sonnet-47-The struggling ferocity, betwixt lust and love,is like that of the feet,tongue and the eyes,And pair by pair, fires their entities from bad turns to good turns, what thine eyes have observed,let not thy tongue utter and if thou art famished to utter it,thou by thy feet,shalt be bound by thy tongue, or heart in deception,swims in deceit,doth grope in the dark,its misty eyes. What thy eyes have seen thy tongue art bound, And then arts is slaughtered,when thy heart is deceived, and every move by nebulous salve and..

nebulous feet and hazy eyes,an helical of pandemonium,ye mince by heart,not cut thy folly,that thou mayest,not factitiously observe,in thy recurrent skirmishes betwixt lust and love?And each straying foot,doth burn,acatalectic guitless part,So either,by foul play or by holistic treat,thyself thy art,still translucent with thyself,delivereth over the long haul,selfesteem,for thou not scribble nor craven thee,in thy identity,cast forth,And i still with legacies of youth and they with me,scrummy and scrumptious,not for once,with a scruppy,and scrupulous scrutineered,they with me in mine righteousness and probity,prompt i to interrogate thee,in mine sight,treachery of youthful guiles,Awake in thine heart and let thy hazy looks see.Contro.Sonnet-48-How mean was i,when i grew up in a penury and contentment,Each conceited strife, with mine haggard bones contend'st,that to mine temptation,licentiousness,of salacious wights abound the countrified,from opprobrium rocketing opprobrium,they swing ov'r intense scruff.....

And swim with scandal,in surest frequency to tempt i,but thou,to whom shekels and jewels of contentment kept,art bedecked,restraineth thy hands from lascivious thriffles of youth,most worthy villains,still now they prowl,being mine vilest grief,thou best of dearest remorse,of best,i care,in the jungle of covetous cannibals,remorse maketh the best sinew out of a resilient art,thee have i pluck,in thy remorse,to exemplify mine course at the summon of the interval for convalescence,feed where thou art learnt,thou out of feeblest pawn,i learnest well,with gentle embrace,of tutorship healest bone,healest faster,from whence consequences evanesce and normalcy entrench,that thou mayest insulate from harsh bite of the furious sun and its smokescreened verdict,even than thou wilt be impervious and fetid with no counsel,thus dread for ken ,with no counsel,by reverting to the same vomit,pays the gutter price of retribution.Verdicts are born,to reproofand refrain mortal foibles,from the indignities of artistic time,

Contro.Sonnet-49-Time against time,countless wars we wage,when shall we become,its jolly fellows,rather than mere fiendish covetous,wherein hast become man's greatest mountain,when thy lust,hath cast ridicule,on its person, And utmost revile by mortals,causes it to disdain mortar art,altogether assembled to scrutiny,by mere inquisition of esteem of sapien arts,to castrate this nebula,time maketh its final judgement,when thou stealthily slumbers on thy bed,And barely tinker with it,how to amortise mortal pawnbrokee's burden in a civilisation,that burden that artisans and technocrats,froth steep to repay,thine misty eyes cannot,when lust stole from thee,the sinew of thy youth,from payment of its cummulative outstandings,it was,shall bankrupts find solace,in lustful league,Against that infest,do i my legacy,laid for posterity,yet unknown,restrain'd within insidious ingrowing of disvantaged childhood,And this importunity and youthful resistance,pricked my legatees,to mimic golden feet of a stormy petrel,to

guard thy judgement and seek entreaties in that concerns thee,to leave distress and regurgitates,from livid prime?Why Battle,since I Can for a cause. Contro.Sonnet-50-How arduous it is,to sojourn in an alien land,without its breadth,unravell'd and decipher'd,when what we seek is nigh,why that logics,that wit to infer,to deplete frugal mile

06/24/2017 5:22am

we seek is nigh,why farthest plunge and weary travel?A frosty profligate means and why that logics,wit to infer."thus,to deplete fest of frugal miles,shall be to fritter away posterity yet unknown"Why impugn time's sagacity so much?how heavy burden,do i bear,in my heart ,when what i wills,my weary passion desecrates doth infer that volition and ambition events differently,to conform.Thus likewise,indicates events that shaped sapien lives,are determined by exterior,posterior and interior influences,the infection that bears thee addiction,exasperated with undissimilar affliction,props up directly,from such influence,to bear its fruit,and dire consequences,in man, As if by some fustigation,the infected, did know,his vector,immuned,not the predator, being repressed from its guillotine,the bloodfeud cannot excite nor provoke its defeat,that sometimes immolates,thrusts thy volition into blistering competition and struggle,Which densely,it imprecates with a protracted grouch and resistance more poignant to thee...

than mere incursion into the struggle,for that same steely resistance doth pompous incontestable,goads its triumph,victory lurks upon thhs trajectory and my remorse,not incriminated nor surmounted by whatever.Contro.Sonnet-51-Thus pithily,can thy freedom be bargained,to neuter as a nymph protrusive offence.Of parlous defence to castrate the hangman,the public executioner of corporeal moorings,when from thee art found wanton,from which vile,thou art turned sadomasochism,into a craft,like thy ilks,why shouldest not pity remorse,tis thy stress of harrowing writhe,ignite beyond its mean? O,what fortune will tardy resistance ordnance brings,when distress spiral,cannot by its afflict and inflict,be abated?then,shall i not spurred a rugged stance,thou supplanted,though hobbled,on a quirky counterpoise?remorseful candour no regret,shall be ...with thy pedagogue,launch retreat therefore craves of benigned transmutation,intervened shall hail no bogus decrepit,in this fiery paroxysm of contest,and volition for ambition

06/24/2017 7:17am

than a bewitched sands,gawked by covetous lewd,when locust eaeon,confront thy arm and retribution revisits the woes of a lothario nor mesh his crave,nor in the struggle's burningfire,shall not be quenched,the infected epoch of the contagion,against obloquy and immanent ignominy,shalt your venture be and the mensrea for freedom,be not fouled as gauchy as the unborn timesbeyond shall thou soar,that judgement to root out the headstrongapostasy,thyself arise,to butcher the intents of sadomasochists. Contro.Sonnet-56-Golden guilt by its quilt,bespoke thy force;be it not price resisted,thy resolve should poignant be than its treacle,which by passage of time is retarded,today's resolution sharpeneth yonder heights,So,passionate be thou,penitence envelops thy misty eyes,now even untill full blast,spirit of struggle,sordid plow,didnot quarrantine the ballads,do not massacre lethargy,besidesits rattle,this sullen state doth anew begin,they contendwhere two,ocean struggle never parts and flowing streams,gash not flux,

than a bewitched sands,gawked by covetous lewd,when locust eaeon,confront thy arm and retribution revisits the woes of a lothario nor mesh his crave,nor in the struggle's burningfire,shall not be quenched,the infected epoch of the contagion,against obloquy and immanent ignominy,shalt your venture be and the mensrea for freedom,be not fouled as gauchy as the unborn timesbeyond shall thou soar,that judgement to root out the headstrongapostasy,thyself arise,to butcher the intents of sadomasochists. Contro.Sonnet-56-Golden guilt by its quilt,bespoke thy force;be it not price resisted,thy resolve should poignant be than its treacle,which by passage of time is retarded,today's resolution sharpeneth yonder heights,So,passionate be thou,penitence envelops thy misty eyes,now even untill full blast,spirit of struggle,sordid plow,didnot quarrantine the ballads,do not massacre lethargy,bestridesits rattle,this sullen statedoth anew begin,they contendwhere two,ocean struggle neverparts and flowing streams,gash not flux,

wanning at the banks and flexing at the mean shores,when they meet,in the boat,more blessed,when torn by strife,never call it a day and thrive,where piscatories,running foul of fishing hooks and fishing nets,stik waddled tis the vague shores'contending might relaxes. Contro.Sonnet-57-Be thyself,a karma,what shouldest thou not do to others,the awesome golden rule,but tend upon the times of recuperation,burlesque of profligated morn and the burglary of time,art prevalent with nigges,nor preferences,are tedious,to carress till thy interference increase,its bulwarky ebulliency at its prime,nor dare thee chide thyself,not to binge,with clamour whilst i my surveillance,hoots and chants plaudits,for thy recuperation, nor thy show lethargy,at its bewitched sands,frothy brisky not to transmogrify it,when thou hast chosen to extinguish thy ambiguous willpower and bade farewell to extinct saturnalia boat,nor dare to revert back to the same vomit,with a cajole that wheedles and recalls misty eyes,wherein thou might be...

06/24/2017 9:04am

imprisoned with thy petard hoisted,in reverse again by psychosomatism and neurosis.Or thyself as captivity captive,but like a sequel and penultimate vomit,brood of its dire consequences,Ectasy,where thou climb,how contented to make the resourcefulness of thy state,so prolific,a steam is resolution and ambition,that in thy willpower,though with addendum of perception,being everything,maketh hay,with substance. Contro.Sonnet-58-That interference,entangle that made thee thy golden resolve,should in grand style,retreat from hedonism,as it were in the locust years or at thy willpower,the disgusting anals and checkered chronicles of a remnant of inglorious escapades be learnt from,By thy companion,bound to spike thy wiser verdict,eschew suffocation,disengage thy feet at the deadlock of bandwagon jumpers,the mammoth in gaol of their liberty,brainwashed by casuistry,chartered with no guilt,frosty tamest sufferance at will,without further tangled ado,be discreet to recoup locust years,thatthy gladiator might be potent

to avert impending doom hence,clings to thy heart,thy bolthole,refrain from being bilked by thyself;for man's self is his greatest enemy,thus shall thou transfigure,into thy own freedom,since from vile to art direst plunge,i thou wast willful lured,towards thy transfigure,i"ll force thee,to run and give expressionism to catalyse ambition for freedom. Contro.Sonnet-52-So,as thou art penitent as thou claimest,whose benediction can bring thee back to the years locust had eaten,recoup selfesteem,a calibration with which every mortal will not indure,a pizzazz for keeping fine struggle of oecumenical justice,chastity and all righteousness,therefore are the banquets to celebrate saints of public justice andpublic temple,since barely in the long strugglelike wars and ailments ,infected art is bashed in the middle of nowhere and sometimes no return,so isthe time of convalescence that keeps,burning in the heart,or as the saturnalia boat,in whichthe binging stigma doth greedily stigmatise,to plaid mitigating antidote

for its banish,by unfolding strategems,to lax thy imprisoned pride,blessed are those whose intergrity and selfesteem are protected,being stressed to triumph,sweetend self,enraged to be freed. Contro.Sonnet- What is thy substance,when thou art slave,within bond,that vilest shadow tended on a direst clouds,witherest go,each with its vybe,struck on the indian files,hath verve,And thou,by one salve,every shadow flees,unveil thy spouse no further,and thy sloven state thou changest not,on sullen plow,all great actions by muster grew, And thee by ridiculous art ,a moulder as a sadomasochistic tyro,knoweth dire consequences of plow,the paddle and its saturnalia boat,speaks of thyself,thy novel substance,the brass doth vile in thy benighted dusk,and thy remorse,not yet blithering and hilted,to foist the lascivious stigma,by alien influence,still not diminished in some cases, but thou like none, and resolved for the mutative plough.

Contro.Sonnet-53- is posted above and contro.sonnet 54 ,posted below, as indicated

Contro.Sonnet-54-O how much more of penitence doth thy psyche beams,by one holly candour,swallow thy guilt and regret, which passionate doth give,the injunction delivers consequences,but fairer and harsher,when it deems verdict obeyed,for that golden consent,which doth in it abide,And the effect have influence,cast aboard,as alterable implication of its order obeyed,abode in that throng and livery lively as the cricket,when mortal fate masquirade,compete direst clouds ,but for its golden fleece,only then is the villain known,may live in limbo of art,wooded to stray,do not die indigo dye,to invent.Misty eyes like gumptionless roses of a shallow fields,welded with shallow buds,as blunderbuss and lurid shores invade,And so,of mutation,fastidious and pertinacious distills ,when the dust shall unfolds,fondling with consequences direst contend. Contro.Sonnet-55-Not bullion nor the giltedged palaces,of kingdoms yet unknown,of princes yet unborn,of zurich 's gnomes not yet seen,shall satisfy thee,with treasure trove

06/24/2017 10:49pm

of the golden yonders,but thou shall contend to glow in thy reprieve.

06/25/2017 7:46am

Contro.Sonnet-59-If there be norms,but that which is built by hays,unseen of the posterity and uninformed by how then are the succession of change sees so brightly to moot the right change,which given by consequences of events and outcome of history and scorecard,do glaringly and grudgingly,invariably bear trends amiss,the second hurdle,of an interference.O that yoked art,arts under duress of condition could with stressed verve misfire,Even of a mere entanglement and encumbrances of a domestic ado, unfolds its longuer sinew in those infinitesimal accidents,since neurosis at psychos as sickos,first notified, by countenance,rather than by characters' scorecard,that thou might see above what ordinary folks,could not see,intergrity composed of selfesteem,fits like a fiddle,a man's frame,we are villains or saints,or whether evolution of norms mutates or not, o am so sure,change is a permanent mountain and a permanent valley that mortals ,must climb up and down,to subject every mortal and matter to judgement,a....

Contro.Sonnet-59-If there be norms,but that which is built by hays,unseen of the posterity and uninformed by how then are the succession of change sees so brightly to moot the right change,which given by consequences of events and outcome of history and scorecard,do glaringly and grudgingly,invariably bear trends amiss,the second hurdle,of an interference.O that yoked art,arts under duress of condition could with stressed verve misfire,Even of a mere entanglement and encumbrances of a domestic ado, unfolds its longuer sinew in those infinitesimal accidents,since neurosis at psychos as sickos,first notified, by countenance,rather than by characters' scorecard,that thou might see above what ordinary folks,could not see,intergrity composed of selfesteem,fits like a fiddle,a man's frame,we are villains or saints,or whether evolution of norms mutates or not, o am so sure,change is a permanent mountain and a permanent valley that mortals ,must climb up and down,to subject every mortal and matter to judgement,a....

06/25/2017 8:49am

cannonade,that ages have,given plaudits like the gods. Contro.Sonnet-60-Like as the winds,maketh a vitriolic judgement,upon all mortals combined,cast beyond shoreless jungle,so do nature reservest change,the esteem to judge,ridden by time,to err,end and beginning,in every toil,uncensured,as the prime arbiter,over all shores,do contendest not its imprimature naively,in limbo of resistance,causes all mortals,to............to its notoriety,whether crowned as villains or saints,retribution either saintly or villainous surgical crooked elipsis,pays the price of freedom,the price of every ado.Time in its oval,doth imprint its sojourn on its entreaties,charters mysticism of the bulge,flung in its lap and nebulous brows,feet thou,the frequencies of truth,it dispenses,and Not the thing that exults,And yet to err,in vague optimism,thou purport,thy verve,shall withstand,that terror,that thyancestors of blessed memory,across millenia fled,beneath the earth,and eulogy of thy art,is like a ridicule,that soon be overwhelmed

by the patient warrior of thy bewitched sands.Contro.Sonnet-61-Is In thy esteem,that the sullen earth should persist,mine salient past to thy misty eyes? Dost thou hanker as mine legatee,should break the ligament,while binges and sadomasochism,clings like to thee,doth mock the glorious anals and genteel mooring? is it in thy valour that thou hallowest not selfesteem,so fain,to abstain from this sulks of shamelessness and shameless being,the length and breadth of thy consequences? Oh no licentiousness,though notorious to thee,is not so lethal,it is thy misty eyes that keeps and infest lascivious guilles,brisky? mine own caring a hoot or a fig that doth thy contumacity a disdain,to play the guilles evermore,at the rapture of addiction,for thy brutish end;for thee relenteth not its tentacles,whilst thou dost binge and lust after a strange woman everywhere,far be it from thee,that thou shouldest persist,degenerate,in a whore of sloven mores.

Contro.Sonnet-62-Malediction of self adulation,that protrodeth,salacity from its umbilical cord,sadomasochism,and all thine springboard and thy radicle,engulf this marrow,and for this incardine that murky gloom,thou art paid dearly,for which there nemesis instincts,and rid off, thy neurosis,from this soulful lay of entanglement,there is no spur,as brave as thy portentous sulk,No bend so false, and so fatal,no consequences so lethiferous,And for nemesis,thy own astray and straying heart,doth pays dearly,And every reward blossoms from every goodwill,and when fate shows thyself,incriminated by its dire consequences,mine own selfpity itself,contrary disdains thyself,of self adulation,And so,brutish shall the misty eyes feed and repay karma,tis thy remorse is holy as the crystal seas,self pity profiteth not,and pouring frosty plaudits on mean values,lengthens its darkest hours. Contro.Sonnet-63-To nymph thy affliction,shall sinew be,as i saintly be,with the sting lascivious guile,not yet outwitted,when binges...

binges have draineth thy vigour, and darkeneth thy cheeks,with disrepute,when thy fortitude is overstressed and outmoded,hath suffused thee aboard,as a villain,And all those vista as ambushed scenery of voluptuary seabed,whereof consequences unseat,are threatening thee,with nemesis,for such happenstances,so much unpremeditated,must thou fortify,against the mountains nigh thee,that he shall not be smothered by its fatal consequences,my sweet remorse,though binging still delusive,And its stigma that stigmatises,shall in this remorse state,be curtailed,and nirvana shall thou return, o nirvana shall thou return,and tranquility thy eternal shallom.

Contro.Sonnet-64-When have i by legacy,sullen barefaced,the ostentatious shekels and velvety treasured trove of the capsized saturnalia boat,overworn,when most times perished they,in their metaphorical avalanche,the mammoth of his ilks,And crass transit,as they ilk,infelicitous and infernal,fled to lowlands and indigo-ed complacent,When have i induced,the addicted folks,distangled to merit on the metamorphosis of the infirmity,And the sloven earth's triumph of the prisoner of war,racketeering verve from conscience,accelerating serfdom,bankrupt with avalanche of serfdom,Or price itself paid,escalated to crease.Addiction hath my pensive erudite,thus to quit so much early,that dire consequences will comeand like a thief in the night,whiskaway thy unbriddl'd freedom.Behold,this kismet knoweth notthe mammoth and strike impromptu,without infraction of nature. Contro.Sonnet-65-Since binges nor addiction,its sloven earth,nor its saturnalia boat's atrophy but direst consequences,outwits its molasis of voluptuary lewd

How with this unfairness,shall infection hold a chaste,whose abrasion,is no fiercer nor ferocious than a hangover?O now shall the boat's vampired oddysey softland,against whirlwind,or hurricane siege at sea;When billows inundated,are not so clement to spare,the hulk,nor meanness of the shore,so fragile but days unknown?O repugnant remorse,where alack,shall time's borderless affliction,most grandiose item,from time's soidisant and selfwritten oddysey,adorned thee,with mortal hell?Or what esteemed psyche can defray his swashbuckling intent of sunny times and days?Or whose contaminates by infection can alter glorious ambition,O none unless,this providence have willing,that in distress,in my nuances,may still leap forward. Contro.Sonnet-66-Exasperated With this miasma,for direst clouds,flung overboard,i groan,And by will to berserk,desert woman born,a terrific pang,and ghastly discharge,moulded out of nihilism,and finest child,holistic girth foreordained, And gilded sojourn in sloven earth,beautifullyblasted...

And maiden glory of newborn child,convincingly rooted,on the checkered sands of time,And the boat's capsized paradigm,an allegorical poetry, and a landmark of the greyhack press,and suffused its tingle by imprinted sands over its slattern soil,and folly no more,convalescent smitten defacto craft,and specious vain breath misconstrued as trademark zombies,And captive good release from theft of neurotic incarceration,how thou art captain of thy fate,not tired of this melange,would be gone too soon,before thy time,otherwise,direst clouds banging over thy boat,might soon capsize,with thee at mid stormy seas.

06/26/2017 1:06am

Contro.Sonnet-67-Alas,wherefore with infection and addiction,should thou live,And with dire consequences,gone too soon,that binges and debauchery by zombie's groove,should tingle and glide itself upon thy wanning soul?why should misty eyes,be routed by specious cheeks,And filth of thy stain,a scarred regalia of a lifetime?why should addiction be adorned as a trademark,garnished with roses of contagion since specious cheeks masquierades as misty eyes?why should thou live as insolvent soul,ur chined by carcasis of thy filth to bland thy discreet self?that thou hast no blanket cover,against artlessness,stinks but a ridicule of thy discreet self,And insomnolence of arts,hath its exchequer court,in the parlour psyches.O thou art like a rudderless bank,wherein ships barely bay,to show what folly,thou art,rusted,in the frenetic pawn of artlessness,thou might be gone too soon. Contro.Sonnet-68-Thus,shall the sullen cheeks,viled by its sporadic tempest,outlive the flummoxed artist,when binges and licentiousness..

coagulate,cast over this gallowed whirlwind,barely powwow the dastardly omens of the immanent direst clouds, Or raise an incense,apposite to incest,salacity and sadomasochism,as potion ,as curatives,to inhabit transquility,with the leadened brows,prior to golden troves,which are carted away,in sepulchres and predated, bashed by second fiddle-hood,to sigh but never sighed,to heave a lasting relief,every beauty that cringes,only to itself are nothing but an imprecated benediction,In this moulder,applique is as worthwhile,as the antique.All things are immanent to themselves,tis is tested by malediction,making no fudge of the green lush of a wanderlust.And thou,a false witness,before evidences' forays. Without ligament,rootstock and equitable assemblage,all plant species and apes,are nothing but growth ornaments,in thy store.And a nature's spring is the seed of its destruction and its rainment of ravishing rai.son d'et.re,towards apotheosis.

Contro.Sonnet-69-With all those sinewy,embedded in thy ramrod and imprisoned in thy impregnable bone,all realms,even beyond thy impiety,cannot impugn with impetuousity thy vacuous impassibility,to remorse.An Impropriety,AndImpropriety,that only thy providence can alter.Unveilingthe truth bare,as it were,thou art being imprisoned,by thy intendments and thy volition,hardpressed by st.blues,and thalt be freed by same,But those intents,that give thee, a transmogrification and transit thee,into a novel widget,to this eulogy,well beyond confounded realm.To see beyond its dire consequences and wedge of its direst clouds,maketh a providence of art,uttering the accents of the gods,perceiving beyond the realms of disgusting beauty.And in that intent,cast bile away,to enslave,what notion direst clouds might ambush thy posterity,Although, unfair flowers,spew vile of the providential intent,thy fragrance,it emits holistically,watereth a blissful posterity,not by thy seeds,which thou soweth,by impending harvest of dionysian intent's importunity.Thy blandishment,at once is superlative,as a neuter of the treachery of sloven

intent and its impressment. Contro.Sonnet-70-That thou be not exonerated,for this gale of impressment,for impropriety stigma,was ever yet the penitence,for the aromatic bespoke of arts,to groove.A penitence that instigates in the innermost bossom of the heart's impecable grail.So,thou be intendment pensive,eagerbeaver doth but impress impressario,thy wedge the impostor,being wooed of imposture,for imprecate vile,the bitterest birds,doth unleash the leaven of havoc,and thou incurest a besmirched boor of a bothersome plaid,thou hast evanesced esteem by the carteblanche to arcadian bliss,boddle and hedonistic bric.a.bracs,ambushed thy golden intent of unpremeditated bootstraps,and like an enchantment,thou art charmed and a wisp,a cannon fodder,humus and debris,for the burning fire,yet by this,thy destiny cannot be impugned,to tie thee up,in the bitterest clouds,for the days of machiavelli.If some penitence,be then impressment,to betray volition,thy convalescence,might be elusive and not deciphered.

HOLLOWNESS

The hollow space of the mind,the coefficient of the jungle,being its conscientious codex codified as the cockcrows,cockahooped regardless of its cockadoodledoo,from sunrise tis sunset,Will not solace dampsquib as howling wilderness in its coefficient of expansion nor warm the cockles of the heart,at the cock of the walk,to trickle down purple passage,gilded trump of stardom nor this cockleshell onboard they paddle if not capsized to live in clover,that it may live like fighting cock, Does the centrifugal choplogic,ever touch the right cord,to chuckle choo?

PROFESSOR ABRAHAM SONNETS'DIARY.HALF.SONNET-128

Some unscrupulous to say clott'd crocks,in their autarky of cloudcukoo land,overwhelmed through its artery of gallantry and heroism,Oft did the old lady heave hardihood to her ovation realm,Which art had gilded flowers and purple birth;Blazing the sunken flowers in the muddlepath therein, That cockeyed cock'd hat knocks had purloined insularity in cavaliers, And often savaging,what discontents,it crows,yelling unfathom'd yippies,in beautitudes of profound caddles,manifold in every comme ill fault,An innumerable silvermoon,supplanted from an eccletics,it drew,Of hackney'd and rudder bank

PROFESSOR ABRAHAM SONNETS'DIARY.SONNET-119

And freedom its royal consignment,awaiting its stevedore at the shore,Victory at its riverbank,when alighted and once its overwhelming floodgate bombard the periphery and the manacles as missionaries,with its periscope confined,ushered in a new dawn,and the battle to be freed no more a bafflement of a lifelong serf,O sweet vision the saviour of Aluplutans from this bankrupt dawn,Not at random logicity from verity,barrages expressed,But barons of this knight of old,in their momentary batches,cannot but pounce on its basin,to have their canoes paddled into safer shore, My