sonnet #1,603

There you pass flaring nostrils flexing air,
On point of blanking me out near point blank,
And you could sniff, too, certify my rank,
That'd be you; well, I wouldn't sigh or care.
Then after satin tailored tight I stare,
Especial seemly seams down either flank
Things could be worse, so wild good luck I thank,
I go through what you said in plumb despair.
A rotten bishop who's self pinned on pawns?
A pawn in zugzwang working worse and worse?
How can I lift the touch it-move-it curse?
Is stalemate sleepless, squared off dusks and dawns?
Or are you bluffing momentous moment?
What's the game in your beguiling foment?

(Chorus)

o moment
o happenstance
o occasion

sonnet #1,602

You're not the nice chick that I see, you seem
The pretty hour glass figure who's great fun,
A spontaneous titter, laugh or smile undone,
Some charitable cares, a thank you theme.
You're sparks of grey nerve cells, ionic eye gleam,
You're hierarchies of nuances down to none,
Reborn quite future proof and piecemeal won,
You're skin and bone shed by the tissue ream.
Evolved by horizontal, rude microbes,
Good fat, bad fat, good germs, bad germs hybrid,
You're genes who've suffered genial viral probes,
Diffused, inverted, time expressed or hid.
Hypnosis perks up your touched proteonome,
And bids you better you, air kissed genome.

(Chorus)

o proteonome
o accomplishment
o deliverance

(Tri-via-log between Jester, parrot and the
alloy chemist.)

Parrot - Take, take, take.
Jester - Forgive my friend, he's only got the
forty most common words to work with.
Alchemist - The ingots are ahead of schedule.
The Barony will have enough food and water
to see out the battle if we get them traded
with our foreign partners.
Parrot - Grab, grab, grab.
Jester - Look at this cream on white cicatrice
multiplication sign the black knight carved
onto my chest while sparing my life. I've got
no credibility beyond serving as a locum
messenger of indifferent tidings. What are
the alloy chemy secrets of those gold ingots,
to quell idle curiousity?
Alchemist - Those ones are lead cases filled
with pure white crumbling gold. These ones
are solid gold in rolled lead and are separated
with mild heating and a crow bar. That lot of
ingots are lead alloyed to gold. At a secret
temperature in the cauldron, the lead separates
out from the gold. As oil sits on top
of vinegar in the picnic dressing jar, so the gold
liquid sits on top the lead liquid in the cauldron.
Jester - I didn't hear or see anything. I know scum
and dregs and nothing in between.
Parrot - Grab, grab, grab.

sonnet #1,601

(Duke Talon among commemorative plates
hung on walls and draped cheval mirrors,
beard overgrown and grey, his clothes dirty,
in a cobweb rid and dusty torture dungeon.)

When darkness meets with sadness, certain things
Look bleak and black, personified and shrunk,
And hair pins seem to hit flagstones a clunk,
And battle worn sword blades seem glaring dings.
When sadness meets with gladness, many strings
Attached, euphoric, impassioned, over junk,
Magnanimous to what had once plain stunk,
Then love flees swift on synedochal wings.
But pupils widen, search a distant spark
Of firefly, moonlit curtains, feintest shine
Or plankton, plangent feelings disembark,
The silver mirrors sort what's me from mine.
And so with no place void of ambient light
There's no place love can't leak in, none in sight.

(Chorus)

o light
o aura
o glow

sonnet #1,597


(a)
(Prince regent wearing small silver binoculars
on a white gold necklace. Red haired peasant
girl in tattered silk smock on a winding dry creek bed
on a battered stover wagon, little draught
unicorns on harness, in distance.)


I owe you oodles, doubly daunting debt
For breathing me alive, yet I can't bask,
It's more than favours paid back, my guess bet,
Surviving coma trauma testing task.
I still attest it best to give and get,
My clued up spies who swear by cloak and mask
Are only martial, Talon's targets met,
To heal your heavy heart not their set ask.
I'll ride to battle boldly down through Bole
With cavalry and camaraderie
And crush Duke Kull's chicanery,
The squad he sends to serve as army whole.
I'll track back then to my one true love, yes,
Or no, if yes, for a wound dress caress.

(Chorus)

o yes
o da
o oui

sonnet #1,598
(a)

(A gruntled peasant and the switch
Lady Looking Glass in the Bole of
Parabolic Mirrors.)

Lady Looking Glass, we're lately leery,
Gossip stories guide the precious pinch of salt,
Duke Kull's unburnished mirrors can't revolt,
Each is selfless, non-reflective eerie.
Sobs aside, my soul is ever teary,
That old blue blood's silver sips are to fault,
Those hoards of healing silver, lock, key, bolt,
He's tinged blueish white as white, there's no query.
Some have defected principles and flee
The racking tortures here, Talon's passive role
Of negligence and voyeurism, the phony plea,
Prefer death clean and quick to dimming soul.
Trust our Baron Talon melancholic
Leant on mist and mirrors parabolic.

(Chorus)

o melancholic
o downcast
o saddened

sonnet #1,569
(b)
(The prince regent croons as he twists
two paddle two way mirrors, one on top
of the other and looks in to see the future.)

I'm peering into crosshatched mirror panes,
I see Kull and Talon tensely shaking hands,
Their gauntlets grasp to balalaika strains,
A narrow, grim alliance in no man lands.
Third party foe have fled, none fierce remains,
A squad of fortune's soldiers now disbands,
In their background a gifting graft tree stands,
On its three branches, swell fruits sapping grains.
The seedless fruit hangs orange, lemon, lime,
And its leaves glossed are tempered evergreen,
And near, child groom and bride are both preteen-
And future, present, past come autumn time.
A blighted crop of spuds now comes to play,
Snap frozen crisp on snowy peaks far away.

(Chorus)

o play
o flutter
o game

sonnet #1,600

You are my latest love and logged in last,
It pains me so to say that I'm not home,
Until late, that I'm working on a tome,
My head is heavy like yours, kept downcast.
Deadlines now loom and what's sad past is past,
So please don't weep the while I madly roam,
The wave is vectored, we but ride the foam,
We've gone through bad luck elsewhere, both aghast.
No worth is worry worked up heart attack
About the world, and its mysterious strife,
Agendas hidden, hindsight there and back,
Or pressure groups or unemployment rife.
I didn't want to write, I crave the cash,
To celebrate you, darling, don't be rash.

(Chorus)

o cash
o folding
o minted

sonnet #1,596


I went out with him, we killed tiresome time,
His own true motives myriad, that I own,
I liked his manners, mannerisms sublime,
He opened double doors for me, me alone.
There were nice pauses punctuated with chime
Or tick tock, ignored buzzes by cell phone,
And mirrors told us partners, pitched our prime,
We tipped - which maitre d' would not condone?
I braved dates out with him to break it off
Before I fell in love and got so rightly hurt,
That's all I was, a fatuous female flirt-
Last time at my doorstep he twitched to cough.
Or so it seemed, as my eyes quickly shut,
His lips on mine hot, his hand round my nut.

(Chorus)

o shut
o blinded
o closed