a study toward sonnet #1,142 by FisherKingKQJ
We're sentimental yet well fitted souls,
You push my buttons, likewise I do yours,
We're wallowing sufis surfing at our cores,
For true love we'd eat glass, or walk on coals.
Here in the Qattara's dry dimpled boles,
We're forty fathoms under sea level shores,
Whale fossils wake, on camels without oars,
Midst salty sand chotts, nubile dunes and knolls.
The Sahara whole is but one eighth sand,
Bold whales turned their backs on evolution,
Louise, let me hold your sweating fine boned hand,
You can plunge your mind pro devolution.
This mirage caravan swaps salt for gold,
You sudden u-turn, so I'm sodden sold.
(Chorus)
o $10,000,000 gold
o $10,000,000 rhodium
o $10,000,000 platinum
[Autocube3 - for 3d interactive movies.]
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