a study toward sonnet #1,090 by FisherKingKQJ
When I consider big fires that destroyed
The library of Alexandria through,
I think of scraps of Sappho dumbed anew,
Poor grammar by careerists faux deployed.
Love, now a simple common sense is void,
Lost arts of metallurgy guessed untrue-
When harvest gold and platinum accrue
Out of burnt oxen, grains to carats troy'd.
I think of epic Homer pictured on a crock,
His large awkward harp fixed on his shoulder,
Invite his meter here, though seeming mock,
In flat notes deem self his sole upholder.
Love, we wage civil war verse the rabble,
Who with topless towers dare to dabble.
(Chorus)
o $10,000,000 rabble
o $10,000,000 mob
o $10,000,000 throng
[Autoucbe3 - for 3d interactive movies.]
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