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On the trial of writing a sonnet.
On the trial of writing a sonnet
Now as you all know.

The sonnet was pop  in the reign of Elizabeth 1
Hit sonnets topped the billboard charts 1590
Edmund Spenser penned some of the best

Those sonnets written in tribute to the Queen
Royalty in those days had their favourite Poets
I will try to explain the principal of the sonnet
Are you all listening? Well I will demonstrate
Little Story. Is the translation of The Sonnet.

Or it can be described as any short lyric Poem
For it is composed of 8 and 6 line stanzas

With stanza 1 (the octave) presents a situation
Run the stanza 2 ( the sestet) to show resolve
Iambic pentameter is the meter traditional
The rhyming pattern is octave a,b.a,b,b,c,b,c
I set the sestet pattern as c,c,d,c,d,e,e.
Now I suggest you first check our Spenser
Get reading his style Google it and read.

And get used to the rhythm and the rhyme

Spenser sent this tribute as I say to the Queen
Only in those days she had little to read
No nothing only in Latin and written by Monks.
Now he wrote a hundred sonnets as a story.
Edmund Spenser’s epic The Fairie Queen
To me the greatest poem ever written.
Written by Philip.
November 9th 2018.
On the trial of writing a sonnet
I have no MO....
No particular methodology
I just dream things up
Add a sprinkle of psychology

Season with similis
Macerate with metaphors
Emulsify with emotion
Then get baked... Real high

Let the words cool
while my soul
starts to drool
then I present it
to the night.
Bona Sera, boa noite, bonne nuit
Atlas shrugged &
shook the brains  
outta Tuesday's baby
about noon
on a Kathmandu doomsday.
the Berkley Tribe,
all the like & kindly rivals
was all in an uprising
over the missing peace
& meanwhile
The Big Evil cavorted on
in the east
of everywhere.

and the They was distorting real reality
to tickle their own fancy
& pawn overpriced romance
novels off on the populace.

nevermind the **** ***
boiling over on the stove top.

foiled again in clover feilds
& the poison only yields
it never stops completely

**** for pysche
forcefield shield
of freedumb fighter
white knight
grand wizards

winner gets the glittery
7 minutes in heaven
with the blister queen
licking scissors
shiva shiver
ego wither &
sizzle in a cigarette flicker
**** a filter
my lungs aren't black enough                                                         
& this isn't the end

filthy tongued
french kiss misery.
he's that crass.
& he wants to be a *******, so
Charlie did himself in the chapel&
got laughs when the rats
came to have at the maggots
in his skin
he called em both his children
& loved em unconditionally.

Only figured
he address the issue
by ******* bout
the situation that faced
him & all of us
instead of
setting things in they place.

*have grace
The world is terrifying
I should not even be speaking to you. You don't got that broken look, & your edges aren't sharp enough.
That exoskeleton never saw the light of day, it laid down and died before ever being concieved. Boy, you ain't no mystery. It kind of breaks my ****** heart though, yknow?
No, ydon't though.
I mean, yknow how it feels to bleed out all your aura, feeding it to, **** I don't even know, the unknown. Dark energy. The infinite divine, the great conundrum.
Givin it to god? Wherever you find him or her or whoever. Whatever.
I guess it doesn't really matter as long as you're happy.

In the dust clouds of the destruction the bedlam be loud & disgusting & lovely & you may find solace if you so choose. That ***** is  hiding specifically there, you just gotta look. But it WILL be exhausting & exasperating & emotionally draining.
All the ice'll melt before it bubbles & becomes vapor & you won't believe it, all cause you can't see it but that's ******* stupid.
They say people don't like to be called stupid.  Yet the sad reality is a lot of them are, or at least they just got a lot of really stupid tendencies & would rather not address those kinds of things. But see... man, I don't think anything's sacred anymore.
So simply. **** it, go with the flow, just...float.

Oh I wish.
I could take myself serious, so others might take me serious but I end up sounding crazy either way. I think we're all losing interest here. & I'm gettin real sick of tryna make sense of myself, to myself, to & of everybody else.
So if anyone needs me you know where to find me. I'll just be kickin it in the middle of "the ****" like. This is my normal.
Just put down whatever came to mind.
lay low.
stay mellow for a second.
stellar stolen record
cave dweller with
stage presence
I am angel dust
in the devil's lungs.

***** blood
forked tongue
love you forever.
til things get level again .

whatcha want,
a ****** medal?
well, ****... yeah.

when it's all settled
we won't ever
worry again.
we'll call this melancholy
something funny
we can laugh at.

exactly that.
my intention is
to create this
uncomfortably wonderful
unsterilized environment
get high off the light
of seventy small fires
fall in love with the kind
that could **** for hire
get a job buy ****
keep it quiet then expire
nil in its entirety
fluid in its movement.

this is textual ambiguity
the rest is inaffectual
doses of good old
uhmerican ingenuity
like conceptual moses
roaming thru the
******* desert for
forty years

leave him alone
he doin his thang.

he's tryna find his consciousness
truant from the ensuing madness
nothing here is as it seems still
I promise you there
ain't **** to fear.

the people want
consumable truth
available for daily use;
they like being choked
& smoking the cracks
in the broken mirrors
also know as home.

a single empty room
& it doubles as a tomb.

how queer.

— The End —