February 11, 2019

PROFESSOR ARAHAM S DIARY

Contro.Sonnet-149-Cast thou o scold enthuse,to befriend thee,at thy scorn,when thou art belligerent brisky,thyself that with thee,remorse fled?Do i not plead thee,when i narrated thy unholy past,And of myself,all piety too must be cherished?Who detested to be reprooved,that shalt not be fouled?On whose frenetic pace,that thou mayest clamour,with thy disgusting opposite? if thou mopest upon thy guile,do i not clamour in vain,transmogrification of thy eroneous personage and retreat upon thy belligerency with thy domestic remorse? What reproof,do thou refrain that with thy self a prestige,that is dignified,to aplomb when all entreaties doth fall on vile ground;dusted by karaoke of hazy eyes? But Chaste,the mother of moult,for now ,glorify i on thy mud;those that can mutate,thou fretest and of thy self and state,a worse than blind, grimaces thy pleateau.
C.S.150-O from the power of chaste,hast thou this night,remorse to remorse. With full blown repentance,art thou,at the heart being transmogrified?To Make thee wear a new leaf as emboldened face,embelished proof of thy moult, And Befuddled moult doth not disrepute.Whence hast thou this moult refrain,of this beguiling sport that smear thee? that in thy remorse thy deeds,wears its own novel apparel,to sheath its sloven navel,and all fortitude vultured upon its concord.
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Professor Abraham 's Diary : Chapter 10 : - Parson's Black Magic . He must have taken the right lane to racial pride,in an endless stretch of varietated roads and queer streets that barricaded mortal choices,and ambushed by fear and indecision but charting his own course in life,apparently leading to his own personal discovery and eventually rested the case of his own racial ambiguity. Tunde,the first son of Prof. Abraham Popularly known as Bola at the University Of Ibadan,living In his father's mansion at the Grand Cayman's,passing bunch of cottonfields,shunted gaze aside and slowed down his dark blue Cardilac to a halt,shortly rammed his shifting gears into a serene but dusty public park,and hurriedly ransack,a chapter in a book,he had borrowed'Parson's Black Magic' and to basically douse the pocky pie of Passion's Invention as mere creative thinking.Then he zoomed off again,shouting eureka for the discovery,as he squinted against the sun's blinding glare.Holding up the.......
steering with one hand and the other to shield his roving eyes,invested with the inquisitorial power of attorney,and bluntly glanced down at chapter 20,page 250 of this book he'd brought back to help him recall his memoir,a research effort,documenting unsung history of Yoruba's global influence on western civilisation. He had been gone in research for his first decade,in the States,which Was begun,with the pioneering work of his father's research repertoire,and after graduation relocated back to New York.And a great deal,had changed,having confidence,in his racial identity .Now,he was older,smarter and work harder.Gone are days of subserviency,the encroachment of dreadin his intestine,about the superiority of the caucasians. Had had he not chuckled to himself.Blacks,Not Inferior?Since,he moved for the non-degree course,hardly a day,passed by without being caught,with sloven catchpenny of catch-22 nightmare. In the northwest of Alabama,a couple of kluklux clan's get on his nerve.Many had.....
considered him a real jungle ghost of Africa,a real bad boy,one of those niggers,of Harlem,with misery identity,a trash coloured outlaw,that needed to be gunned down.Initially,he Had been as tough as expected but after relocating to the states,and on a short trip to Alabama,learnt to speak out.Had he not hated the the legacy of poverty,suppression,marginalisation and ignorance bequethed to blacks in the States,that he wanted more platforms,to fight long hard,to effect a change,that blacks in the U. S. in general can not afford. But the clan's detective had planned to destroy his dream,even before it was begun. fifteen years ago,he had been threatened in school,by folks of white supremacists for being a smarter kid of the lot,especially for his wizardry as a whizkid.He was threatened with jail over a rickety and unsubstantiated evidence and patriarch's recall back home,change every mockery of histrionics,played out on him.And nowback smarter knew better,how to deal with highly organised but racial crime
Barely had he closed the book,shifted gears into faster drive,and drove to a nearby public library. Infront Of the library park's circular drive,he parked his rental car,across Montesserey Avenue.He had visited the library 4 years ago,prior to renovation and frequented the nearby lodge,not far from the street Casinos and the Boulevaard.Tunde was a bookwork like his father,and could grind bombastic decrepit elements,in a polemics of no return and with the boisterous knack to shout them,should he have his way,fitfully.Hence,inquisitorial drove he like wild boy to the door. Walking the front doorg,the bell rang and book returned and exchanged now for a pack.But the audience that showed up,gave him the heart beat of his life.And excused him abit for a pedestrian,in the voluminous arcadian park,staring at his ignorance and rodeo of blissful bluntness and fur of intellectual funfair.His sarcastic grinsuggests something missingandfunkyplayed.......
This plumpy,middle aged librarian,thus began to fire its salvos and unfold the detective gestation,like a leak from the gestapos,into his graceful arm. " O young boy,frolic nigger,do you know Or have u read about the history of kluklux clan in America?"his grandiose slammed his granular face,later gulped too easily by his gungho's gullies. Now Mr Branson unveiled the poser. "Were you aware,they were stalking you?" squeamish on his heels,moved away paces,from him and stepped back into the gracious entrance ,and then he shouted. " The vultures in America have nothing to loose,but you hapless niggers,old dickens,have everything to loose."he humbugged,with entangled homiletics,humped on a traduce,both the hunches and evidence of stalking,and closed the door behind him,as Tunde,the detective loadestone melt away,deadened in a deadbeat. As if the vehicle,suggested to him,please come inside,let's go and heypreysto,summoned courage, got back in the driving seat,and zoomed..
off from the bedecked park with an enormous bonquet of flowers,hardwoods,glistening underneath the sunlight and gigantic arrays of blossoming trees. Obsessively,he Was an oddity, oddball,who misjudged and underrated potential upset,that the could cause a rift and the extent of public ridicule and racial contempt,that might be hurled,upon those niggers,like he,who sought to oppose white supremacists. Why should he be upset,in defense of colored people,the so called backward races,according to social Darwinists? But Certainly,he was upset,with derogatory remarks,for sometimes,being vocal at the public library,where he had become,a demigod among scholars both white and blacks,in most cases,made his mark,in the rendition of unsung black history. Hence,threat Was begun at this numb and the necessity of getting over painful memories,became more daunting. He drove home the interstate so rapidly,as if being chased under klieglight. Now,he seemed so appealingly vulnerable and briefly.....
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got home,unboard his vehicle,stood aghast at Mr Branson's reminder and for the inklings, it was quite,a mumbo jumbo,until a deserted voice,spoke out of murky dead silence. Shocked to the bonemarrowg,mooched and sombre, but raised his eyebrow. He Was known as Halley after the popular Alex Halley in the 'Roots ' a black flick in America,with popular slave narratives. " Hello Halley, how are you?" he probably unknowingly stoked a burning fire, and hung with carthasis and psychologically infested stir crazy, Tunde lampooned "do i know from Adam? U stalking me right? Are U Kluklux an agent?" "hmmmm" He relaxed abit "what?" staggily struck and thawed with fallen cadence " Were you not aware,we met in the library?" he slipped his arms around him and radiated with smile. " Halley,you throw dread around these days. What really is the matter.Please concentrate on scholarship.which book are u reading now?" George,a...
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Close pal of Branson,unknown to him,cleverly covered up and patted him,on the back and risked a smile " Good for you " "Nope,i ve found out,that if you were fighting for this underpriviledged,they'd kind of single you out for a persecution. That took me about four months to realise until once again recently, Branson's reminder geared me up" . Now he was not afraid,it would hurt,if he was,he wouldn't have spoken out,in the first place,just as he felt in his innermost part,that incessant deaths among blacks and inequal opportunities,afforded them,was not the right thing and a fault on the side of the Caucasians. Somehow,he should have known better,having witnessed death related racial profilings on the increase.Still he decided,to popularise unsung black history . The sun burlied and warmed his hatless head,as he stood silently,waiting for George 's reply and shooting to resume,as he dabbed sweat off his forehead and buttonholed cheeks.As George,a stealthy bilker,baulked directions within his........
bailliwick subsumed,felt his seducing eyes,slowly browbeated him with intense interest,so,the best boy,adjusted to the penetrating light that had been strung to supersede subnatural flux as scholarship topic meandered "Halley,dont be sentimental,forget about stalking horses.Have you read Leadership Gold by Robert Maxwell,he said Are you focused on your strength ? spend sometime to reflect on your strengths and also said succesful people focus on their strengths not weakness.I ve read about a vast hordes and sometimes ragged line of progressive but a strategic line of coherent thinkers,stretching back to Chandler and Ansoff ,not excluding the great Porter and then Mintzberg ,later I came across Gary Hamel a Professor at Havard, And C.K.Prahalad his close mentor,together they wrote "Competing for the Future" find the book in the library,i recommended them to a friend of who was later fond of them. These guys have a way of challenging orthodoxies and statusquo especially,making it difficult,..
especiall Hamel,making it difficult to predict the next line of research." thus again,he was begun with another rapture." Are you aware the origin of management consultancy,contrary to general belief,was not linked,to draw a straight line from Frederick Taylor's Principles Of Scientific Management in 1911,through to evolution of such firms like Booz Hamilton Allen and the like of Mackinsey. Chris Mackenna,a lecturer in management,at... His hammer struck the anvil so intensely at around 2 o clock on the dot.Time to interrupt,he did not. The ragged but boisterous noise,was thwacked by dead silence,and soon fret intensely unsubdued.Too sententious and insensuous,for him to notice nor summon the hammer to a screeching halt. The trenchance,not trepidatious and tremulous bullied forth.Outside its cadence,it was still as dark,when the anvil had rested for once,even in the midnight oil burning,to tranquil 's wishes except for Tunde's Body language gesticulating a recess on the anvil.
As the stunts went,after about 30 minutes,Tunde muttered something unintelligible then disembarked his feet on the gravel and pulled from the saddle and landed infront door,so hastily,his knees,nearly slipped off to a fall and adjusted a little wobbly.There was rashness in his conduct,as could not help but followed his footsteps and now seemed to notice the hardlines surreptitiously buried in his boggy face."Come on Halley" he whispered in whizzing movemement,seconded from Halley's whirl.His voice so tender,it nearly solaced Tunde's raging inferno and his covert and overt sob at seeking soothing palladium. " maybe you dont give a damn to me or about yourself.Perhaps,your rising adrenaline and dread for these faceless stalker" His Jabing Jabbering Jabbed gusto,rythmically stopped but the jagged jangling ambience persisted. For some practical but political expediencies,they were slow,to unlock the door and he couldnt but noticed his apathy and the hearthtrobs,evidenced in his voice,........
The engross was ready. "Dont you understand simple body language?"he munched noisily " Oh,sorry chap! And If there are stalkers,we will gun them down. "as He moved closer to hug him and there were hugs and smiles,to detach them from his miserable lot. Their friendship had often thrived on intellectual discusion and had survived explosions and blasts at the local library,prior to renovation.And thus a new they bantered" You Talked about chris Mackenna's Book,' Hubristic Champions'.He was a lecturer at Said Business School,University Of Oxford,and I think the book was launched in 2006 or thereabout..."jagged and janggled,nailed the anvil,with his hammer. " oh,you are right . Halley,u Just too sound too good,two steps,ahead of me "thrown eulogy in a vertigo,as Tunde finally opened the door at past 3 o clock or half past three And both headed inside. "See, forget the bunkum,forget the trash like Taylor,Peter F. Drucker, Tom Lewis,and those guys,you mentioned.Be it your melange of philosphers
,scientists and technologists,inclusive of their tardy engross of widgets,invents,patents,munnitions and missiles,we the yorubas,being the glory of black race,were instrumental to the succesful evolution of world civilisation ancient and mordern.That is why stalkers wanted to gun me down."he landed the bombshell from space,as if exorcised and binged by his African voodoo. Ocultic Power according was the first salvo,then creative,second salvo creative,as there is a limit to which the latter could go without former's first initial backing. "How do you mean?that is the first am gonna hear this esoteric lie. " George was covered with the mist of nebulous clouds,stammering and stampeded for breath."how!how!! pls,talk"tormented by obscuritist Tunde. His overtone never overslept and he was always hale to the overstate.That way, he had time,to prepare him for the bombardment and bombshell,from the pit of hell. "George,am Happy to meet you once again.Sit down calmly, for the beautiful tales"
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" Halley Am all ears"sitting on a palate, with palatial panache,in a palliative fashion,to help him pander with his panygeric and panoply rendition of ambiguous history that the world can offer. Pall as pallor was fallen on his face and this palsy of pallidity did not abate by the time Tunde turned his palatable globet of Alabama wine and both share glasses to pan out this panoply. George,a Middle aged Caucasian like Branson had fallen respectfully silent,perhaps for the beleaguered mind of a mawkish and minowed matador,whose machismo as a black mafioso,an endangered species,in mainland America,a loudmouth like the loudhailer,a lousied lout,with no frequency modulation of both the bizarre and the expediency,with the lilliputian tendency,to shows blacks,were not in any way,inferior to the caucasians,who according to him ,they mothered according to anthropology.He was no lilly livered and a lightweight,nor a limp in a limpet,to be boxed,into obscurity and unschooled about his cradle.Invariably,out In a thumb...
his lily-white baritone voice,like an alabaster,limbered and suppled through his throat,for firing his cannon and so he confrontthe labyrinth,hitting cylindersraw and polished,and the greatmayhem,thus was begun,a battle of racial flexing and Parson's blackmagic hammered."In the 60s Sir,sorry to say,when you were much younger,say less than than 20 something,were you aware of man forays and giant strides into space"his laden mouth,though still lacerated with skepticism,placid and laconic in la-di-da fashion,filled the lacuna."Yea, it was cool,i witnessed it that historic feat,in my lifetime,dubbed'one giant step or leap for mankind"he quipped. "Were you aware about the fact the invention of thecompass that made globalisation possible and that of gunpowder,was credited to the Chinese?Little didthey know about the People,that civilised the 5,000years old country.The Europeans came with their rocket scienceand still pundits failed to decipher the myserious powers that made possible,this enviable relics
of golden history.Were you aware thatthebiggest innovation in westernhistorywas steam engine? were you aware,that it was first invented inancient Egypt,prior to rediscovery in the medieval,when there was need to pump water out of flooded mines?Today,It had been converted into variegated uses likecars,vehicles,machines,planes,rail and rockets.Now the single biggest invention in mortal history,was the rocket science, and yet,it extensively used blackmagic"he hit bombshell with a jigsaw."what?"jawdropping"it was nothing like that,dont be depressed pityboy,it was just mere thinking,mere creative thinking,soshut up,black monkey.What do you know?"he blastedhis goon of a carapaceand blindvitriolic vituperation."Oh,you still livein thedark,old man pity you.So,can you recall the inventor of that rocket?"he laminated his languour of lameducking,landlubbered,in this context."Who invented the rockets?i wouldnt know,that wasntmy field anyway."his laborious labial,swelledup again longuer and lacklustre,but laissez-faired.
His jinks still jeered in a jiffy"You nigger,what do u know.Tell Me!"he bombed."look,it's going to still be much easier,for us,to disarm disarray,that frivolous infinitesimal mole,tearing us apart and get a dint of the esoteric truth."he validated mildly "You nigger which truth?"his vaporised vapidity parochially vantaged out of expediency. " wait a minute old"retooling to disburse ambience and fact."which truth,you nigger professor"still jeered his mumbojumbo,as decompose rose sternly."that blackman's culture is superior,in any way and by all ramification,because in any construction project,foundation is key and once you get it right,the construction becomes a success.Be rational,for once old man,you goof of a caucasian neanderthal,a cave dweller,robbed with animal skin,ten centuries after the arab civilisation,and thousands of years,after blacks were already dwelling in palatial homes?"he tinged his tinder with burning fire,at full tilt."oh,my goodness, Jesus Of Nazareth,where is your face"he wept like
Jesus Wept and as kennedy wept,when the Russian Cosmonauts,beat the Americans To the game and became first supermen to land in moon,the Yuri Gagarin Boys.History Was never stolen from them."Is that an affront or something you nigger,where did you get your fact?what superiority?"he queer streeted. "Ready to know? Have you the sheerest inklings about the genius of inventive nomenclatures like Jack Marvel Parson's,Weirham Von Braun And stealthy manipulative Sergei Korolev respectively.Old Man you tilt and sheen of crepuscular shennanigan,plead thee,cool down"he pestled gritty and pounded the mortal,as he landed the volley,the sharpish sharpshooter sheepshank,grown sheepish,shelved its momentum and adorn of mannerless sheepskin.When his tuxedo of twaddle left adumbrated,he struggled to alight and counterpoise.He pulled down his face and away and sitting scraggly,demented on the sofa. He Was becoming lushed by superior tact,that built drudgery as moral fabric into the momentum of the somewhat picky racial debates.
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Fathomed that he could see himself better,where he was headed,not much on St.blues queer street parade.His ignorance salved,but even,if he could convince him and trust reliability of his sources and could bear somewhat fairy tales with his ears. Now,with this bigbang,he was coaxed,at full pelt,a consumate discussant,struck in bewilderment,but still hesitating about the affinity with black magic,given the fact,he was embroiled,over context,wherein he could not emend nor emboss,with superior tact and somehow,emitting emollience and excessively emoting.He was on the edge of the argumentative precipice and just managed to stay. George knew Halley so well,since they'd used to rampaging tempest of intellectual discussion ever since the library public and passing to see a friend and a sister,at a spare time also branched,to check on him. He had never lost an argument ever since met.little,wonder,George,though May not admit it was glad with every time,they fell into such discussion.Both had a temper
and almost hated to admit it.Sometimes,scuzzily scurrying With seamless slanderous and scurrilous scalpel,piercing tendons,scalloped like a scallywag,scandalously,scalping,modest indigo of argumentative sanity,that sometimes scared passers by.Such scatological recurrence and smutty verbal sarcasm often tizzily titivate this tiptop of ireful tirade,intoxicated like a tipple,the tittle tattle percipiently,tinkers this contest of the mind.There was a little silence and then he spoke out,putting down the glass cup,to clear his throat,adjusting his position on the sofa"And so,what's the matter with them?"inquisitive,he tenterhooked,but now vamoosed temporised tepidity. "Anyways,these smartest guys,paragons are the mega- celebrities behind the success of western rocket industry."he unleashed the bombshell and with the tag,"blackmagic was their phenomenal but esoteric powers."he pinched,somewhat pilloried,at comfortable distance,that he oggled,in the mutative conviction of the dreary contest...
"Blackmagic!"his indigo,vertigoed once again."blackmagic or creative thinking?"he closed his eyes"jesus christ!"he moderated in a chargrin though his tantrums did not fell so fast to hamper his bubbling zealotry,not to seize hold of the genius of the blue sky,and if possible,lampoon his conspicuous rodeo of rodomotade.A faint sheen of perspiration,flashed on his face,wedged over muffled thumps,mottled with the patches of mudslinging mucillage,from an inferior nigger,as the challenge lingered in the air,unruffled towards Tunde's Whooping sound ofvictory andGeorge still numbed. Thebroad band of the blue sky,outside hisapartment decked withtintedwindow,had not only turned rose but later to red gold and by the time,it was deep indigo, George gazed at his watch,still have 4 hours left for the discussion,before headed to Beverly Hills for a late night flight,barely threw down his stampeding gauntlet.'i still get more time left,to spare'.taking up the cup,to sip abit more."Without blackmagic,they would n't have...
been sung,let alone a smash hit.And you countrified coccoon of an ostentatiously, intellectually ossified goat,whacked by nearsited collision and derailment of maddening osmosis,still ridiculed our culture as inferior and ,still call me a nigger. O,What a weird !"he jibed again as he moved closer to him,stretching his arm and yawning,whilst he was forced to relax his breath,wittingly ,at the unscrupulous ireful goddess of war,laced by hot temper and running lips.His Smoldering look seemed to accuse him with musdlinging catapult,as if a lie was told,with pain and pang,shadowing his hazy eyes,at the time swallowing hard,with a mouth that runs tirelessly but never blank and bland."Now,do you have proof,blackmagic was involved?You ranting of an ant."still jeering "want to define that?"he niggled for nittlegritty,snuggling deep into his sit,engrossed in the loud cadence,as he noticed a soddened reflection of the moonlight on the floor,2hours to go.George sterned at the......
amusing glimpse into their somewhat altercatory friendship and Tunde Smiled but his defences barely slipped a notch and a minute after seized the stage dropping his glass cup. "Now,listen the famed hungarian physicist Theodore Von Karman,invited Young Marvel Parson,into the research planet of Aeronautics Academics.Basically,like great inventors,who simply used holly curiousity,he had no formal college education,but Von Karma believed in him,recognised earlier,his talent and intelligence. He had no difficulty,imbibing and blended easily,with researchers,academia,being naturally charming and was later included in a research group,that dealt with extremely blackfuels project, And so,having made a distinction in research Parson's group was called the suicide squad after a series of failed rocket fuel research attempt,that was caused at Calteth,due To Scandalous safe concerns. This was caused to be moved to a few kilometres of land left closer to San Gabriel Mountains,little above, devil's gate dam. so,.........
07/04/2017 4:04amImage result for THE PHOTOS OF ACADEMICS IN AMERICA
that is where
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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 ,lest....
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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....
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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..
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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.
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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
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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.
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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....
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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 !
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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.....
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Contro.Sonnet-137-Thou blindest simpleton,what dost thou know about chaste,that thou scoldest and recalled not oueer street,thou art juggled with thy unholy hours and still the stain lies.Yet the best oratory is taken to the street, to worst salvage cannot be,if misty eyes of thy household,still persist the rankie,diffused across public square,where all eyes pay and discredit homage,upon history ride. Wiles of mistiness,mendacity hast thou forged,nooks thy profile whereto,the remorse of chaste is bargain'd?why should thy chaste,hurl'd at thy gooseberies,thinkest and thickest than the scorn,hurled at thy household,which siblings brothels' frequent'd? or their hazy eyes,chaste defied?o tie them amidst fair roses,acunpunctured by chaste,in things of serendipity,extemporise,And to quirky instinct,are perfect men evolved.Contro.Sonnet-138-When reproof tingles with her spirit hewn,is a fair humus of scolded earth,but homage stinks thee unfair to wear its garland,let diffuse them,that she might be brought to the
gallows of chaste,unholiness in thy reproof,be moult,thus,vainly or ambiguous dreams,that shalt change,at thy household,fastened first,even though are arraigned against thee,implicitly unfurl thy sinew and expropriate avarice to neuter moult.Hence thy pedigree,farthest afield shall soar unsuppress'd,wherefore saith that remorse at heart is remorse farthest plunged afield, o chaste best norm is in the moult return,neither can the medes and persia dissuade its norms nor thy avarice dump them beneath seashore, And by girth,unpolished,loves to be told vintage's sinew unfold,And mine moult ,newest life lived. Contro.Sonnet--139--O distant not yourself ,from thy sordid past,that thy direst clouds lay guilt,upon thy homage,would not with thy misty eyes,but with thy propensity,to remorse: use remorse with penitence and transmogrify also thy household. Ignite their tendons'kindlest spirit;but thy countenance,thou seest the ornated oratory,as disparaging remarks,what kindlest thou,gratify with scorn underneath chaste,
is quite more pleasing than overbearring intent,can wallow,in its supercillious mud?Let this spirit bind thee to unbundle this tacky foible,mine chaste,well heals like the doctor.Her basting prolificity,fastforwards,have been grooves,with lots of scolded sinews;And therefore from thy own household chaste,convalescence shall be ecumenical,that thy offsprings shalt change,as the fugitive tongues,shalt have imbibe, Yet, thou detest fiasco,to do so,but given thy pedagogy,that fell on rocky ground,kills foible outright,if not first within thy household,and rid thy household of ignoble festoons and effeminate effetes,not embossed and emulsified with empyrean epithet,a far field. Contro.Sonnet-140-By artifice,art thou not foxy?Do now relent,thy trojan gee-gee and gander,tacky with chaste,grooms intense penitense,lest direst clouds maul thee,with retribution.The disdain of chaste-refrain and rebutal,if i might vagabond expunge norm,worse as it were though not to scorn,yet scorn;to groom perfidy refrain so; As heavy..
-laden,when the guiles-sticky groove,no distilling showers,can her writ be,but direst,haunting and hounding from its saturnalia boat; for if i should renege on this knight of old,should i not be spared?And in mine moult-harbinger,speak foul of nature and naturewit plow;how this ill-gotten predisposition,is bound to bomerang. Uncouth calumy
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calumny by maddening dogs ranting,i myself befuddled be.that i might not this path tread,nor heaved by distant gale,i mine eyes poignant bear,that though the chide might but the chaste itself be scolded,for a counterpoise. Contro.Sonnet-141-Do i not by kismet,desecrate thee,with mine fairer eyes?For they forsooth are the truest chaste unveiled by mortal guise;But tis thy scorn that desecrates what i preachify,who inspite of the makebelieve sanctity is pleased to ridicule;nor are thine eyes frail to observe:nor dainty fret away wary grit:nor thy grail,froth thee not immature;nor ample scorn and inglorious damper and dent,it hurls still exhaust not thy palms,to rebuilt above thy voluptuous bank,where strayed wits,art pleased thee to dwell,can impound many a wanton heart to endorse squandermania orgy,fret by youthful sinew,with the salacious clay feet,o elegy thou who in vacuum sings,o elegy thou sings thy lyrics in vain,o thy elegy sings in vile,who desert voluptuou bank,to crave thy indulgence,o that senile
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bough's waning moon is ample rotund for much ado of inherent piety and holistic grail.Were it not for thy ineptitude,in this numb,so far have i harpily and hawkily hassled and disgusting lethargy at spanking thy household with rebuke;so drossy a droopy be,like an effeminate effete,not embossed and emulsified,with the ferrule to censure budding guiles of queer street duffers and fetid dumbos,let alone a halfway house grapeshot fired. Contro.Sonnet-142-Chaste is the reproof of reprobate and renegade psyches and thy reproof as thou reproofeth unsuspecting prodigy ,the arbiter of household,grounded on norms,to nymph foul indulgence. O with mine chaste,compare state with thine household,if thou barely scorned,thou shalt find thee bless'd.If thou this indulgence barely usurped,from a mere lampoon of mine tongue that have ridiculed all day,as if smeared on all canvas,oft as they wedge,hustl'd,poised to emulate relics of annals,a mammoth drew exemplification inferences,both to duck and to moult.Be it tempting.....
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art might scorn this knight of old even as thou lovest to indulge,But for thee,thou gravest know,farthest plunged importunity,can be scorned,I that growls at thee,its direst clouds ventilate thy crusade not merely with verbiage but empathy! empathy!! empathy!!!Does he deserve a barndoor?If thou dost known to have erred,still what thou dost know,thou stealthest hide,By thyself a worse than a scoundrel be. Contro.Sonnet-143-Lo,as thy hauteur heap,loiters thee at the knight of old,one plying on thy pinions,caricature and snobbish prey thee upon thy hopelessness,sets thee down to addiction and makes all entreaties,a vain treaty and plea,in pursuance to the guille,thyself art pleased to duffer;whilst they binge,still brandish chaste at gooseberies,hulked in loftiest embrace.Yells to disentangle a ducked bird from its tangled knot,whose penultimate eagle's flight fell upon pleadings is itself prejudiced,to in vanity fret,that which pounces impropriety astray,before direst cloud gravest smitten,not abrasion of.....
the wit,to desecrate pleadings as asinine,so foulest a dialect steeds,thou altereth,not which fiddles from thy grasp,whilst at thy clayest feet,fisticuffs loathe,far benumbed;But if thou promptitude lixiviate thy laconic visage and banish inane indulgence,And play wit as fiddle's broth,bid thy profile sham away,bid ridicule astray:So, will entreaties persist that thou mayest alter thy indigo dye of a mole? Contro.Sonnet-143-Reproof flies in comfort,out of the courtroom of despair,swirling despair's pang,which as foundry and furnace,doth chide blot out renegades from sybarites,in transit of golden crimson,doth farther afield pays homage,to a villatic but willing personage,self esteem is the colour of intergrity and the price of freedom,to win thee accolades and untangle thee from frosty plaudits,the loafer's loam unwieldy loathes,smitten of voluptous riverbank,freteth dunghill metaphors,And thy saint,caroused with even more taints,castigating and booing his much ado,at every twist and turns of checkered ante
The above contro.sonnet posted now is wrongly tagged c.s.143 instead of c.s.144. The next contro.sonnet as shown below,should then be tagged c.s.145.instead and ideally.
cedence.And peradventure,mine chaste be the fiend,let dumbo refrain,yet thy disposition by intendment repugnant disdains: Yet this foible,plain as a pikestaff both to gooseberies and thy clan,this bad blood guesstimate i may never,reprieve be; yet this murky quirky pall of tarnish'd conscience,glaring across the scene,but dread i dread tis stalwarts and afficionados in dismay of thine dissident truth,pine away, O homily! o homily !! thou barren of holistic mores and latent exemplification,how sordid thou art, miserly smitten and carcasses on queer street. Contro.Sonnet-145- Those chaste that scold refrain did entangle,breath'd foul play,that an hypothetical ensemble and emblem of repugnant carapace ,a clayey feet,to fiddle,with that gall of gallivanting tympanum,for thy loafer's loam,But when vintage circa,lethargic cipher,poignant in her loam,did loaf 's liquefaction glide,gliding that brisky uncouth tongue that ever lashes,was hearkened,in doling out tranquil sigh,heaved out of its Contro.Sonnet-145-
impending doom';And enslaved by scorn,it thumbed a novel ground,subsequently to remorse,"disgusting" numbed by nature,she with haste alter'd,as she threw. O that amazon,a adherent in the peripatetic school,succumbed to her penchant with empathy of the pamphleteer,upon whose epistle,she gourmandised,for penitence,out of its saturnalia boat and its direst clouds and the queer street was agog doth a mammoth transmogrify....
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transmogrified,who unlike thy stunts of foul play,from a piety-luminous household to its firmament suffusion,the realm is engrossed.' Dread from dread,i dread,not whenever she is thrown into gully,And her fortitude,mine fiddle condescend to vouch her fillial piety ,but how sullen art thou,twist i not thy ambivalence. Contro.Sonnet-146-Sordid palm,sullen feet,the achilles heels of thy direst clouds,despots at rebellion ,impounding thy garbed sinew,against thee astray,when they are arraigned,why dost thou nutcase ,not to detest this snobbish tempest of arrays; suffocated by dearth of writ? why dost thou pine away,at the numb of voluptuous bank,to unculture thy foible,wherein frenetic quest,doth thou upon thy clayey feet,whisked into obscurity and subtlety ?How thy gradient align with libido,heir apparent of precipiced fiddle,is that thy numb's show ,that defileth with reproof thy homily and homage? then,bankrupt live thou upon thy precipice and personage's decrepitude,not so gracious ,with nature's gothic..
dementia's rampaging art ,to pine away its saturnalia boat,inclusive hulking its salacious grampus and disgruntled gizzard:rebuilt phraseology in thy celebrated quest,so shall thou coaxed thy bossom,to feed upon piety as amazonian feedeth and custom and cipher once cultivated,barely abscond.Contro.Sonnet-147-Mine Chaste too,is as a scorn,moping still,for that which fiercer,breedeth armament;quiting that which doth banish the scorn,the groping morbid apetite to plead for an expedient writ,that pious humanitarian lifetime,the medicine men to mine chaste compounded my breath and hackneyed ordnances are flouted,hath miry feet,begging the land for cover.Chaste art,now stale,as mine screaming bazzaar peddling did accept.And every inglorious past,as umbilical cord upon which remorse is supplanted by penitent souls, And frenetic pace,tarnished with delusion,to enthuse forgetfulness of ill-bred antecedence.Let peddlings gavel not and its bazzaar closed shops wherein stunts are pulled before dusk.Be not enthralled
Contro.Sonnet-148-below posted
C.S.148-O behold,thy stupor,what misty eyes hath chaste put asunder which bore predilection,with fabled writ, Or if thou hath not scorned,where is thy remorse,that thou penitence fled,that scorn boldly played ,intuitive misconstrued?If that not be foul play,whereon thou stand to overlook thy mole,what inference,do we pluck,that thou art no contumelious to smite remorse? For if it be not,then chaste doth well dignified its prime,as chaste's flex,not so pragmatic as all thy sinew retreats subserviency.How can it transmogrify?O how can chide by sinew,be heard and held to compImage result for the photos of a spoken poetsly,that is so seared with contumacity and parozysm of haphazard rage?No retreat,no surrender,then i must be frank,to be concise: the moon itself as well as the sun itself,barely reprimands their boundaries of days and nights,till nature's counterpoise brightens spark at the milky way. O hazy scorn! With derision thou lord keeper of the natur's conscience, keepest remorse,at bay,let thy household be scolded,in the court of first instance...
wherein thy foulplay,should find thee unworthy and a vile on earth. Contro.Sonnet-149-Cast thou o scold enthuse,to befriend thee,at thy scorn,when thou art belligerent brisky,thyself that with thee,remorse fled?Do i not plead thee,when i narrated thy unholy past,And of myself,all piety too must be cherished?Who detested to be reprooved,that shalt not be fouled?On whose frenetic pace,that thou mayest clamour,with thy disgusting opposite? if thou mopest upon thy guile,do i not clamour in vain,transmogrification of thy eroneous personage and retreat upon thy belligerency with thy domestic remorse? What reproof,do thou refrain that with thy self a prestige,that is dignified,to aplomb when all entreaties doth fall on vile ground;dusted by karaoke of hazy eyes? But Chaste,the mother of moult,for now ,glorify i on thy mud;those that can mutate,thou fretest and of thy self and state,a worse than blind, grimaces thy pleateau.