a study toward sonnet #215 by FisherKingKQJ

You know I'm a bad ass rock and roll chick
And at Lake Alice psych I paid my dues
I've got an ex con boyfriend cruel and thick
And we timeshare leadbelly's aching blues.
My shoulders are hickeys where not a bruise
He'd never cut my pretty face or neck
He's not like prettyboys who charm and use
The sort of vacant face my boots'd like wreck.
He loves me, his very own smart alec
His ecstasy and p are panacea for my ills
Our bedsheets are crap stain and blood fleck
After a mickey finn he takes me as he wills.
My friend Carol, too, suffers for our art
Cheek tattoos and yellow teeth are a start.

{3D interactive chorus:}

My friend Carol, too, suffers for our art.
My friend Carol, too, suffers for our creativity.
My friend Carol, too, suffers for our muse.

a study toward sonnet #214 by FisherKingKQJ

At the centre of ourselves is some
Dark matter, only a speck semantics
So I'm not quitting the rule of thumb
The parallel universe of your tricks.
Your love outweighs your hatred in the mix
That is my faith, the stars themselves peer
In power, intensity, distance and fix
In the nightsky; they neither blink nor veer.
They are portals for time travel I swear,
The crucibles to temper the doubting heart,
The Earth's core a white dwarf, dusty nuclear,
Our universe a black hole for the most part.
My love, you're a mystery as we speak
Your topic is touched in tangental squeak.

{3D interactive chorus:}

My love, you're a mystery as we speak.
My love, you're a mystery as we banter.
My love, you're a mystery as we chat.

a study toward sonnet #213 by FisherKingKQJ

Subordinate to Galen, life, and death,
My passion is distributed and free;
As hate and envy are a waste of breath,
I become what other people say of me.
I experience things more as they should be:
Like any student nurse I bow and scrimp
A teaching ward, a racket tuition fee:
After hours I'll volunteer pout and primp.
You're member politick or bludger gimp,
I'll throw in a funky, free, bodyslam,
I can turn this condom into a blimp,
I can disabuse you of your wee dram.
A registrar's sixty hours hardly pays-
You can lord it later, inject your haze.

{3D interactive chours:}

A registrar's sixty hours hardly pays.
A registrar's sixty hours hardly monies.
A registrar's sixty hours hardly renumerates.

a study toward sonnet #212 by FisherKingKQJ

I crave your long, pale, thin arms and elbows
Which fill out white, goatkid, stitched, full length gloves,
Your tight hipped turquoise dress over stilettoes-
Your bobbed red hair and pout round out my loves.
Eyes blue and white blinking, empyreal doves
In summer's last blush flutter, judge and swoop,
Your quietly cooing and throaty voice shoves
Us all out of its migratory and closed loop.
So we're a loyal, irrational group
We chauffeurs, ex-cons, busboys and drag queens,
Tonguetied, hopeful as to whether you'd stoop
To stomping a heel through consecutive spleens.
From your smooth, botox single wrinkled brow
From your eyes, too, your fringe you blow.

{3D interactive chorus:}

From your eyes, too, your fringe you blow.
From your eyes, too, your fringe you huff.
From your eyes, too, your fringe you puff.

a study toward sonnet #211 by FisherKingKQJ

My love, may your ecstasies be sated,
And your miseries transient, small and few,
May your care for the ill be known and rated,
May a run of good luck wrap all you do.
May water freeze under your flat heeled shoe,
May fire heat your aura into fireball,
May earth yield you guavas to suck and chew,
May air ooze ozone to keep your mind in thrall.
To praise myself now might seem devious small,
But it's you I now unconsciously ape-
I empathise with the downtrodden, I quit a brawl,
All to stroke back your hair, to kiss your nape.
You're a halo crested gnomon which casts a shade-
Without you life would be vacuous and staid.

{3D interactive chorus:}

Without you life would be vacuous and staid.
Without you life would be vacuous and dull.
Without you life would be vacuous and grey.

Mickey Munter: I flew my hot air ballon to the brink
Of Wall St to tickle a Wall St bank;
As heroes do, I pocketted a greenback tithe
To democratise sooty black sweet teeth.

"Mickey Munter and the Moneytree" is the title I've finally settled on for a political satire. $100 billion of debt is a lot of...lolly. That's after love sonnet #400.

"Mickey Munter and the Moneytree" is the title I've finally settled on for a political satire. $100 billion of debt is a lot of...lolly. That's after love sonnet #400.

a study toward sonnet #210 by FisherKingKQJ

My real self I'm afraid of, I hardly know
And dispel in heady gulps of ocean breeze;
I might come across as a know all so and so,
You could call me ignorant and ill at ease.
But you yourself try too too hard to please,
With a compulsion to flirt and amuse
You cruelly enforce a social disease,
You're an affable, mechanical ruse.
You swim in boiling ozone greenish hues,
You're salted waist down for all kinds of men;
To licks of bullkelp sick sailors carouse
And give up carbuncles to your bedrock den.
Let me swoon the oozing brine of your breath,
My mermaid, swish and propel width and breadth.

{3D interactive chorus:}

Let me swoon the oozing brine of your breath.
Let me swoon the oozing brine of your hale.
Let me swoon the oozing brine of your spire.

a study toward sonnet #209 by FisherKingKQJ

I'm in a quandary of sorts, and now
I've left a common law ten year span wife
To whom I could no longer speak or kowtow,
All petered out in a ritualised life.
With menopause comes the ironic strife
And history of menses and countless eggs
Which were flushed away, to bluntly knife
My nostalgia for failure, surely dregs.
Perhaps to Don Juan the situation begs
Compare, perhaps he played the monthly cycle
And perhaps he moved on as they shut their legs,
At first a sirroco, then an icicle.
What am I saying, who pushes who, who shoos?
It's just a case of new heels for old shoes.

{3D interactive chorus:}

What am I saying, who pushes who, who shoos?
What am I saying, who pushes who, who parries?
What am I saying, who pushes who, who rebuffs.

a study toward sonnet #208 by FisherKingKQJ

You're gorgeous, you're clever, you're full of spunk,
But you're not distinguished from other girls
And if you hitch up with a rake or a punk,
Well, I tick fin de siecle flings and whirls.
I love the way your shy, bowlike lip curls,
Your flick of bangs away from your eyebrows,
Your primp round ear as a tress unfurls,
Your sweep of lock on lock near overflows.
You're educated, but to custom you're not close,
You're cultured without irony or nuance,
You're mutely rude and cheerfully morose
In vulgar values of what's in your pants.
You're not so young but only for a while,
I'll follow circumstance with custom wile.

{3D interactive chorus:}

You're not so young but only for a while.
You're not so young but only for a moment.
You're not so young but only for a spell.

a study toward sonnet #207 by FisherKingKQJ

As autumn strikes a tremor in my heart
I sashay past the lush, deadly nighshade-
An ancient artefact of cosmetic art,
It's dainty white flowers inviting spade.
To you, a sidewinder, my thoughts are swayed
And myself, natural, a rattlesnake,
The spat of serum has left me waylaid,
It's queasy cure for my gout and tooth ache.
Your eyeliner is vegan nightshade fake,
No lab hare is sacrificed on your byre,
Your friends are tarts for purely tarts' sake-
You're a green potato whom I acquire.
I speak before I think, whereas you frame
Your bile in cool, eloquent liquid flame.

{3D interactive chorus:}

I speak before I think, whereas you frame.
I speak before I think, whereas you border.
I speak before I think, whereas you outline.

a study toward sonnet #207 by FisherKingKQJ

As autumn strikes a tremor in my heart
I sashay past the lush, deadly nighshade-
An ancient artefact of cosmetic art,
It's dainty white flowers inviting spade.
To you, a sidewinder, my thoughts are swayed
And myself, natural, a rattlesnake,
The spat of serum has left me waylaid,
It's queasy cure for my gout and tooth ache.
Your eyeliner is vegan nightshade fake,
No lab hare is sacrificed on your byre,
Your friends are tarts for purely tarts' sake-
You're a green potato whom I acquire.
I speak before I think, whereas you frame
Your bile in cool, eloquent liquid flame.

{3D interactive chorus:}

I speak before I think, whereas you frame.
I speak before I think, whereas you border.
I speak before I think, whereas you outline.

At some point I'll be adding songs for a satirical musical. Fifteen soliloquys with fifteen talk-sing dramatic interludes. I'll be continuing with unrhymed, blank sonnets
for talk-sing; half-rhymed sonnets for soliloquy.

Half-rhyme:

goggle
gaggle

or:

gurgle
gaggle

a study toward sonnet #206 by FisherKingKQJ

The Gods cannibalise their own dead
Regurgitated for Romans from the Greek-
A crazy Caesar salad tainted with lead
In scullery leach, by bath house pipe leak.
The Fisherking, he salts the infirm and weak
So learn to treasure, pick, unlock your scabs,
By a fever your immortality you seek
In his salt marsh castle of vaccine jabs.
He'll salve your wounds of dirt and rusty stabs,
For mouldy water you'll work up a salty thirst,
Afore your eyes will pass milestones and tabs,
A templar knight by crowding you'll be cursed.
And cities are built on cities, my love,
Atop Jerusalem so push dusts shove.

{3D interactive chorus:}

Atop Jerusalem so push dusts shove.
Atop Jerusalem so push dusts barge.
Atop Jerusalem so push dusts ram.



Your salt and bitter tears stifle
Love's healing which is no trifle.

a study toward sonnet #205 by FisherKingKQJ

I've ignored your whiney, frivolous taunt
Out of character, more glitch than fault-
I'd pick of all quantum ghosts which haunt
Us now Lot's wife's salving pillar of salt.
Antiseptic salary lines your vault,
Your sauce and season blot a gourmet meal,
And my roaming eye is ready to bolt
To sweet bonbons beneath hermetic seal.
It's elements and spices finesse real-
When twelve friends talk about a table
Absent thirteenth rounds off their commonweal,
Who's halo'd as coin of realm and fable.
Your promiscuous past, either node or trough
My heart accepts with effort - think it through.

{3D interactive chorus:}

Your promiscuous past, either node or trough.
Your promiscuous past, either node or ditch.
Your promiscuous past, either node or gap.