Sonnet #75 by FisherKingKQJ


In front of dresser mirror moods aligned
As we each puff a big tobacco pipe
Hers briar and mine clay pleasure bent of mind
As we imbibe the sauternes fully ripe
Her shoes are shiny leather spit and wipe
Her jacket grey tweed little lapels flat
Her bowler black a match to silk cravat
A pocket watch in vest of silver stripe
I wear the same as she I idolise
The Enfield rifles specify the biggest bore
And killing malthouse sparrows stands our chore
The blaze of bullets cuts them down to size
Sir Esvjas Nzist hired us to liquidate
The woozy sparrows set on booze estate
Chorus liquidate destroy vanquish

sonnet #74 by KQJ

Ill brave big Sandows body culture gym
Ill line the leopardskin spot togs he flogs
In cheval mirrors skinny side of slim
Ill skip the warm up stuff the circuit jogs
I sigh as men hoist weights Id wage on whim
I whoop as cartwheels whizz wide men as cogs
I get the stitch and calf cramps interim
A stick out sternum scab asserts hard slogs
Waxed Whiskers noted zero skill yet zeal
Proposed a massage punishing to end
He whacked his fist edge raised a reddish weal
Then over me he hung press ups no bend
Historic place Leys building brick and gild
Ill guess in future books and bodybuild
Chorus gild gilde vergulde

Sonnet #73 by FisherKingKQJ

Dear Dicky, my quick remedy can save
You from your gross auto erotic bane
The victim needn't be pushed to the grave
Or madhouse by unprovoked semen drain.
As in Health for the Manly I explain:
Excesses of hot youth are a disease.
Even of he men who in the gymn train,
Who lift above, drop big dumbbells with ease.
Your knickerbockers down you say felt queer;
In the pee jar sediment lies white fleece;
My diagnosis is: chronic spermorrhea.
Sip salix nigra three times daily, please.
If you send me ten pounds sterling, mister,
I won't blab your deeds to dad or sister.

{3D interactive chorus:}

If you send me ten pounds sterling, mister.
If you send me ten pounds sterling, pat.
If you send me ten pounds sterling, sir.

{Corrected rhythm and typeset 5/12/05.}

Sonnet #72 by FisherKingKQJ


Doctor Proctor, old facts are quite scanty,
I fall asleep and snore when I go limp
Sandwiched by whores in a sly grog shanty,
I'm sotted by harlots and a publican pimp.
I'm tired now and on hot square meals I skimp...
Doctor Proctor, will the big scab remiss?
You shoot alum into my cock, you crimp,
You repeat the scare word parasyphilis.
Damaged spinal cord, brain, what talk is this?
With scalpel and meths you stem a chancroid?
You prescribe a cocaine syrup numbing bliss,
You advise a month I women avoid.
Into your Queens Arcade practise we come
From a gumfield for your magic nostrum.

{3D interactive chorus:}

From a gumfield for your magic nostrum.
From a gumfield for your magic elixir.
From a gumfield for your magic potion.

{Rhythm and typeset corrected5/12/05.]

Sonnet #71 by FisherKingKQJ

Your musical career has come to nought,
Time has proved you copiously mediocre,
Oblivion has staved off what you wrought,
Your fiftysecond card you've turned a joker.
I've a true love who supports my music,
It's her passion, she doesn't play a note,
A passion aside crotchet, stave and rubric
And on her small mysterious moves I dote.
In the wrinkles of your pursed lips lie sneers
I'm silent: condolence you want to hear.
Fisherking heals his friends, neighbours, peers,
Not fame but immortality is heir.
My love tugs my sleeve to bid you adieu,
I spend one nod on your duff notes in lieu.

{3D interactive chorus:}

My love tugs my sleeve to bid you adieu.
My love tugs my sleeve to bid you farewell.
My love tugs my sleeve to bid you goodbye.

Sonnet #70 by FisherKingKQJ


Dull is this work with posser and dolly stick,
And frills, goffers, pleats invite box iron singe.
I had more fun sucking a boozed gent's dick,
Or twingeing rasping goatee on my minge.
The matron was a shoulder to cry on:
She said domestic work might be my reprieve-
I've options, now: ball iron, egg iron, sleeve iron
For smoothing out bonnet, bustle and sleeve.
True: I've studied Mrs Beeton's dirty laundry.
True: I was impure, lewd, low and discreet
But the small world has left me in a quandary:
What if the needs of a client's wife I meet?
Do you think I'll get some work reference
From gentlemen who paid me pretty pence?

{3D interactive chorus:}

From gentlemen who paid me pretty pence?
From gentlemen who paid me pretty dosh?
From gentlemen who paid me pretty lolly?

Sonnet #69 by FisherKingKQJ

In my white drill sailor suit I'm such a card,
Conductors and drivers don't take umbrage:
Around the east Custom st horsetram yard
I like to play hooky from the orphanage.
I slunk behind her in the last horsetram:
Otherwise empty were the roller seats.
The conductor blushed, he told me to scram...
I snuck back and I watched him suck her teats.
My love of her symmetries I'd plead:
Her chestnut plaits, her cheeks a rosy bloom,
Her bike coat and rational of grey tweed,
Blackboots, fawn gaitors, a straw hat, a plume.
To watch my love make love gives me solace:
I've learnt one lesson this summer solstice.

{3D interactive chorus:}

To watch my love make love gives me solace.
To watch my love make love gives me comfort.
To watch my love make love gives me relief.

{l14 extended for final typeset. 5/12/06}

Sonnet #68 by FisherKingKQJ

My research trawls Fort st fallen sisters
For the learned social science journal Truth:
The sweaty painted face which glisters
Shows us the bestial instinct of youth.
The parents were genetically infirm,
So for magdalens sex is a passion;
They unbutton pantaloons, then they squirm,
They succumb...and ad hoc at last cash in.
I note: cotton drawers bleached, static rustle.
I finger: round the vulva copious nerves.
Under flamboyant curvaceous bustle
This hirsute organ insolent lust serves.
Some gossips do call my research nonsense...
No, no! It's a lab at large of conscience.

{3D interactive chorus:}

Some gossips do call my research nonsense.
Some gossips do call my research gibberish.
Some gossips do call my research twaddle.

{Corrected rhythm and typeset 5/12/05.}

Sonnet #67 by FisherKingKQJ

I'm one of the grubby Magdalen lasses
Who troll and game Durham st for a lay:
Behind a warehouse full of molasses,
Amidst the privies, the barrels, or on a dray.
For brown felt bowler hats or pince nez
My taffeta petticoat and sweeper
Go up, my satin boots, my thighs splay:
Anonymous ruts are faster or deeper.
Apart from a drayman who's a peeper
They're all just tweed trousers and lemon gloves,
They shudder and faint for the Grim Reaper,
Such is the chemistry twixt me and my loves.
A shilling buys a cut plug of opium-
A tamp beyond society's oppobrium.

{3D interactive chorus:}

A tamp beyond society's oppobrium.
A tamp beyond society's condemnation.
A tamp beyond society's denunciation.

Sonnet #66 by FisherKingKQJ

An act of Parliament has spelled adieu
To bordellos and harlots and bawds:
The constable says he's got little to do
But nab shoplifters and grapple their hoards.
Percy Plutocrat set me up solo,
He leased me the tobacco shop premises,
Whole toasted leaf, stacked tins in the window,
I swear lusty wives are my nemeses.
I'm twentyfive, olive complexioned and plump:
To the backroom I'll sign a leering scamp,
Where bouncing off my bare bum he might pump
And peruse nude paintings and rising damp.
My fee is two shillings for a short time,
Two pounds if you want a night sublime.

{3D interactive chorus:}

My fee is two shillings for a short time.
My fee is two shillings for a short period.
My fee is two shillings for a short spell.

Sonnet #65

I'm a gloves and collar fancyman flesh tout,
I love to book my sweet three shilling harlot-
I'll tweak an idling punter by the snout
Toward unbuttoned pantaloons and slot.
I'll shout a bloke a closing time gin shot
And bring him back to a red Queen st hut-
My missus doesn't care for looks a jot
So his crown I'll cosh if he calls her a slut.
While he grunts, while his eyes are squinted shut
His claypipe I might plug and loudly puff,
I try his shirt if he's same size round the gut,
If he's muscled I'll stroke her pale grey muff.
At the chainstitch treadle she works up a sweat
By day but moonlights an unlaced corset.

{3D interactive chorus:}

At the chainstitich treadle she works up a sweat.
At the chainstitch treadle she works up a hidrosis.
At the chainstitch treadle she works up a perspiration.

Sonnet #64a by FisherKing KQJ

Those soiled doves have earnt me good cash,
Polish well pier glass, the black grand piano;
Some of the diggers are handsome and rash:
Thirty shillings for two whores buys one halo.
Breast uppers nude, silk flounces, satin bow,
Stays tight tied to stress the waist and bosom,
Traps for eyes of men cashed up and callow:
Queen st home of assignation in sum.
My favourite Sarah turned age thirty glum,
Would take in washing, so making ends meet,
Got pregnant, so she quit for marriage mum
With a rube both sentimental and sweet.
Myself, I made the elite shift to bawd:
Still unjugged, like a chairman of the board.

{3D interactive chorus:}

o $10,000,000 bawd
o $10,000,000 madam.
o $10,000,000 pander.

[Autocube3 - for 3dinteractive movies.]

SPADES DIAMONDS CLUBS HEARTS

Two of the rhymes in #64 need to be changed to rum/mum-
at the moment it's an accidentally bastardised Spenserian/English sonnet.

Sulla, Dictator of Rome

Watch your friend earn a million dollars as lead punter!

Paid work for everyone at your local cinema!

Teamsters affiliated!

SPADES DIAMONDS CLUBS HEARTS

Sonnet #63 by FisherKingKQJ

This life of sexual abstinence began
In summer of '01; one short bike ride
The vicar changed me into puritan:
Boy's spilt seed decreed a homicide.
Emission nocturnal could be defied
By regimentalised, serene pure thoughts,
My seed reabsorbed by organs way inside:
Girls boobs arrear two arithmetic noughts.
Still, girls soft tingled in my worsted shorts:
I gave Mr Hare my one pound sterling
For electric bath self abuse disports,
Nipple electrodes, hot steam puffs swirling.
Delivering by butcherboy black bike,
I tell wee giggling harridans go hike.

{3D interactive chorus:}

o $10,000,000 bike
o $10,000,000 cycle
o $10,000,000 pushbike

[Autocube3 - for 3d interactive movies.]

SPADES DIAMONDS CLUBS HEARTS

Delivering by butcherboy black bike.
Delivering by butcherboy black bicycle.
Delivering by butcherboy black cycle.

Sonnet #62 by FisherKingKQJ

In a parked puce Maserati sports car
He primps bleached sparse hair, he tilts sunglasses,
Just for me he clicks the passenger door ajar:
He decries poofs who goose busboy arses.
Uptight lifestyle he deemed to recant-
The trenchcoat and tie and shirt were obscene,
He'd sold on the silver service restaurant
For lazy lines of methamphetamine.
He pulls down the undies on the fellow
At the top of the same kingsized waterbed,
Rhetorically he asks: Feeling mellow?
I'm paralysed, I've got a pain in the head.
When your love is down and chances are thin
You can count on a smarmy mickey finn.

{3D interactive chorus:}

When your love is down and chances are thin.
When your love is down and chances are meagre.
When your love is down and chances are scant.

Sonnet #61 by FisherKingKQJ

We scramble up the wet wharf groynes and piles
Embossed by rock oysters and black mussels
A pillbox crab with sponge on head beguiles-
Behind blue anemones he scuttles.
My love bites and sucks out some tainted blood
From a fine gash just above my left knee
My glistening thigh caked in sand and mud
Streams ruddy but I have no memory.
We look at purple rib mussel clusters
And we suspect their hard razor sharp lips-
The tethered dinghy bobs, seabreeze blusters-
A mauve starfish a limpet grinds and grips.
My love says we're fortunate to admire
The diced antibiotics of the vampire.

{3D interactive chorus:}

My love says we're fortunate to admire.
My love says we're fortunate to esteem.
My love says we're fortunate to regard.


summer 1971

Sonnet #60 by FisherKingKQJ

Lord octopus blushes a dapple pink
Of algae posied on coralline turf,
He blacks a moray eel with clouding ink
And scrabbles away on plumes of surf.
A seethrough prawn enters on tippytoe:
She vaunts an eyepatch on her backside,
She's roiled by undercurrent billow,
She's resigning the rockpool at hightide.
Our friend the hermit crab looks for balance
His larger pincer shows credited bias,
A tanaid in a shell makes acquaintance
So imitation isn't quite as bad as....
My love says only a fuddy-duddy
Might nitpick his redhead's naturestudy.

{3D interactive chorus:}

My love says only a fuddy-duddy.
My love says only an old-fogey.
My love says only a pensioner.