a study toward sonnet #712 by FisherKingKQJ
Your repines are gymbals on a magnet,
There is no pleasing you in words or act;
So, whatever gauge of hole in dragnet,
My hindsight catches at your after fact.
Indefinitely stuck with selfsame pact,
That pleasing you totally pleases me,
Seems now a sibilant, blue seasnake tact,
Of your caprice I want to wriggle free.
In early hours, my counsels will disagree,
And so backhand agree as how to wreak:
A vote for bad is Captain Morgan's plea,
A ballot for worse is the Devil's tweak.
Pirate leaps from eighty proof rum label,
Pleads that your heart is a starry babel.
(Chorus)
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[Autocube3 - autocue for 3d interactive movies.]