Three Sonnets

Chop goes the chicken wing of the Cyclops

Blue blooded would quietly run to blink Can

After the revealing, Blue-blooded would quiet run

To create the ethereal harmonious rivers of Sake

After the narcissism of Sake had accelerated

Scintillating for us there moan sensual Sirens like male

Which moan marvelous mesmerizing ethereal, silky Sirloin

When I sculpt the beast or siren lacquer magenta from it

Don’t whither I wouldn’t quietly sculpt the very slutty voluptuous Dragon

Who licked pure of my marmalade at the yellow goat.

It’s just natural I won’t create him when I buried my Cyclops

Gods like the beast always moan there

When the Cyclops moan buried moresque as breath.

Giants can only ejaculate the flower of critique.

 

 

I am burgeoning Plebian, a psychic river from beast, my revolution,

I am Mallow Pigweed.  I choke with the Elephant.  I bleed in beautiful revolution

At the sigil of restless graves. I create The Dragon

From accolades I speed up the chicken wing secreting

Through garbled organic cantors, through garbled pascivious fervent

I am burgeoning Plebian, a psychic river from beast my revolution

The beef acquiesces voluptuously as a slutty nightingale bird

Sacred from us in the Stairway, but we can create a Pure.

Spaceships almost surreptitious like a Diviner, as the derision erupts

Siren climbs mourned a cyclopean Cyclops to create violet thing

Natural we mourned licking or war dance.  Lepers mad to say

Pure licking Shrub manifest upon the Groove

Untouched by tragic sterile Cyclops laid obscure in sumptuous blue war

The groove suck siren’s cyclopean yellow Cyclops drooling

It sucks the shrub we never honor.

It sucks the dodos subdued through the oatmeal

Natural dreamt from Ground to Plateau’s tip

And did quiet even create themselves.

The groove suck quiet a yellow Diviner it emasculated

Cure siren’s preternatural Cyclops for being shot with ice,

In war dance doll’s cure for wolves

For Black Betty Mansion, knee slap, for fire truck money

The women crawls a whale on the groove is just imagination’s

Sister bitch who always eats her frozers

Seattle mourns in the smoke between the activity and the war dance

Between the grooves, Can the Creek of the holy

Reach now, in this water, create the Groove-Owl

Wolf, bear, Can otter, dragon, dove.  Create the sky alone

                                             Chop goes the chicken wing of the Cyclops

Blue blooded would quietly run to blink Can

After the revealing, Blue-blooded would quiet run

To create the ethereal harmonious rivers of Sake

After the narcissism of Sake had accelerated

Scintillating for us there moan sensual Sirens like male

Which moan marvelous mesmerizing ethereal, silky Sirloin

When I sculpt the beast or siren lacquer magenta from it

Don’t whither I wouldn’t quietly sculpt the very slutty voluptuous Dragon

Who licked pure of my marmalade at the yellow goat.

It’s just natural I won’t create him when I buried my Cyclops

Gods like the beast always moan there

When the Cyclops moan buried moresque as breath.

Giants can only ejaculate the flower of critique.

 

 

I am burgeoning Plebian, a psychic river from beast, my revolution,

I am Mallow Pigweed.  I choke with the Elephant.  I bleed in beautiful revolution

At the sigil of restless graves. I create The Dragon

From accolades I speed up the chicken wing secreting

Through garbled organic cantors, through garbled pascivious fervent

I am burgeoning Plebian, a psychic river from beast my revolution

The beef acquiesces voluptuously as a slutty nightingale bird

Sacred from us in the Stairway, but we can create a Pure.

Spaceships almost surreptitious like a Diviner, as the derision erupts

Siren climbs mourned a cyclopean Cyclops to create violet thing

Natural we mourned licking or war dance.  Lepers mad to say

Pure licking Shrub manifest upon the Groove

Untouched by tragic sterile Cyclops laid obscure in sumptuous blue war

The groove suck siren’s cyclopean yellow Cyclops drooling

It sucks the shrub we never honor.

It sucks the dodos subdued through the oatmeal

Natural dreamt from Ground to Plateau’s tip

And did quiet even create themselves.

The groove suck quiet a yellow Diviner it emasculated

Cure siren’s preternatural Cyclops for being shot with ice,

In war dance doll’s cure for wolves

For Black Betty Mansion, knee slap, for fire truck money

The women crawls a whale on the groove is just imagination’s

Sister bitch who always eats her frozers

Seattle mourns in the smoke between the activity and the war dance

Between the grooves, Can the Creek of the holy

Reach now, in this water, create the Groove-Owl

Wolf, bear, Can otter, dragon, dove.  Create the sky alone

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About batai52

Brother, father, photographer, filmmaker, writer, artist, veteran, Iroquois/Scottish, aquarian and lover of Martinis "so dry you have to blow the dust off." There are many I admire: Maya Angelou, Ezra Pound, Morris Dees, Cornel West and Alan Alda (Hawkeye Pierce M*SH) for his art and activism. A true activist. Me? Heading towards being a feminist and I am working on my own human condition. Onward Together!
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