Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?
T̶h̶o̶u̶ a̶r̶t̶ m̶o̶r̶e̶ l̶o̶v̶e̶l̶y̶ a̶n̶d̶ m̶o̶r̶e̶ t̶e̶m̶p̶e̶r̶a̶t̶e̶:̶
R̶o̶u̶g̶h̶ w̶i̶n̶d̶s̶ d̶o̶ s̶h̶a̶k̶e̶ t̶h̶e̶ d̶a̶r̶l̶i̶n̶g̶ b̶u̶d̶s̶ o̶f̶ M̶a̶y̶,
A̶n̶d̶ s̶u̶m̶m̶e̶r̶’s̶ l̶e̶a̶s̶e̶ h̶a̶t̶h̶ a̶l̶l̶ t̶o̶o̶ s̶h̶o̶r̶t̶ a̶ d̶a̶t̶e̶;̶
S̶o̶m̶e̶t̶i̶m̶e̶ t̶o̶o̶ h̶o̶t̶ t̶h̶e̶ e̶y̶e̶ o̶f̶ h̶e̶a̶v̶e̶n̶ s̶h̶i̶n̶e̶s̶,
A̶n̶d̶ o̶f̶t̶e̶n̶ i̶s̶ h̶i̶s̶ g̶o̶l̶d̶ c̶o̶m̶p̶l̶e̶x̶i̶o̶n̶ d̶i̶m̶m̶'d̶;̶
A̶n̶d̶ e̶v̶e̶r̶y̶ f̶a̶i̶r̶ f̶r̶o̶m̶ f̶a̶i̶r̶ s̶o̶m̶e̶t̶i̶m̶e̶ d̶e̶c̶l̶i̶n̶e̶s̶,
B̶y̶ c̶h̶a̶n̶c̶e̶ o̶r̶ n̶a̶t̶u̶r̶e̶’s̶ c̶h̶a̶n̶g̶i̶n̶g̶ c̶o̶u̶r̶s̶e̶ u̶n̶t̶r̶i̶m̶m̶'d̶;̶
B̶u̶t̶ t̶h̶y̶ e̶t̶e̶r̶n̶a̶l̶ s̶u̶m̶m̶e̶r̶ s̶h̶a̶l̶l̶ n̶o̶t̶ f̶a̶d̶e̶,
N̶o̶r̶ l̶o̶s̶e̶ p̶o̶s̶s̶e̶s̶s̶i̶o̶n̶ o̶f̶ t̶h̶a̶t̶ f̶a̶i̶r̶ t̶h̶o̶u̶ o̶w̶’s̶t̶;̶
Nor̶ s̶h̶a̶l̶l̶ d̶e̶a̶t̶h̶ b̶r̶a̶g̶ t̶h̶o̶u̶ w̶a̶n̶d̶e̶r̶’s̶t̶ i̶n̶ h̶i̶s̶ s̶h̶a̶d̶e̶,
W̶h̶e̶n̶ i̶n̶ e̶t̶e̶r̶n̶a̶l̶ l̶i̶n̶e̶s̶ t̶o̶ t̶i̶m̶e̶ t̶h̶o̶u̶ g̶r̶o̶w̶’s̶t̶:̶    
     S̶o̶ l̶o̶n̶g̶ a̶s̶ m̶e̶n̶ c̶a̶n̶ b̶r̶e̶a̶t̶h̶e̶ o̶r̶ e̶y̶e̶s̶ c̶a̶n̶ s̶e̶e̶,    
     S̶o̶ l̶o̶n̶g̶ l̶i̶v̶e̶s̶ t̶h̶i̶s̶, a̶n̶d̶ t̶h̶i̶s̶ g̶i̶v̶e̶s̶ l̶i̶f̶e̶ t̶o̶ t̶h̶e̶e̶.

If not for you where would I be today?
Most likely dead or on some distant shore.
Your love does not drift like the ocean waves.
It stays close to my heart, I can't ask for more.
Your skin, so soft, like velvet on my tongue.
Your orchid, sublime, responds to every kiss.
To my ears, your heart beats like a song.
If I never met you my life would be amiss.
But now we build the future bold and brave.
There is no fear when I am in your arms.
The ***** is gone and I'm no longer a slave.
My soul is not in a state of alarm.
Your breath is like the wind on a barren land.
I swear to you I'll always be your man.

The Joker King is joker ing the world.
My favorite food is (pull my finger) paste.
Gertrude's a guy that got his ****** girled.
I'm guided (kiss my ******) by my taste.
Science is racist.  So are roads and math.
"Gender's a social construct," said the it.
Showers are racist.  Take, instead, a bath.
Or don't.  (It isn't racist to smell like ****.)
Cheeba's the cure-all drug, the every cure
That cures the cancer caused by ******* smoke.
Since sugar's such a super food, be sure
To eat your cake while drinking cans of coke.
Ableist ******* can't (won't) get their way!
Antiableists vote for Special K!

Now plenty of books. Redundant the quill
Queries well-sated; papyrus well-served
Journalist, poet, and dramatist still
Recumbent and smug, securely preserved
Smirk for the camera illustrious friends
Expressions freeze-frame, the genteel applause
Locutions abed, your industry ends
Settled profession contently withdraws
Troublesome confound? Don’t answer yourselves
All is deciphered, on parallel shelves

What innovation now possible here?
Planet post-poet not artist-constrained
Transmitting thinker nor analyst peer
Unburdened truth-sleuths repose addle-brained
Yet further books, birth ideas that birth more
Science yields questions more often than fixes
New voices surface as wave serves the shore
Shapes settled sandbars, produces admixes
Now plenty of books? The only rebuff
Plenty will never be plenty enough

I strain to chase my own inspiration
But ev’ry day there’s only artifacts
From my past eras, this lonely creation
Takes every fleeting feeling like a fact.

I seek, I seek, but rarely do I find
The abstract answer I was looking for;
You’d think you can’t get lost inside your mind
But sometimes you don’t own the parts you store.

It truly is a pit without a bottom
To stare the depths that lie within your heart
Because we underestimate the *****’s
Ability to turn pain into art.

Although it may appear to be a void
A writer’s well of words can’t be destroyed.

Tiptoe through tulips aching big a toe
That breaks for every bee and blade of grass.
Who knows the mower hates to hear the mow,
Nightmare of ugly sound that passes gas.
Dilly and dally me through dandy kittens
Roaring like lions loathe to take an oath.
The present age is hot with extra mittens.
Organic earth is earth and heaven both.
Inhale the floral undergrowth of germs
That scent Aurora's fauna flower birds,
Albeit worms are slimy snotty squirms
Delicious raw with ketchup made from turds.
Zephyr a sweetwind, winter wind with ice,
Earth is a mankind heaven paradise.

My technoscribbles haven't all cachet;
A mother hen on Friday farts an egg.
Even a swill of parlance has a say
When maple roadmaps varicose a leg.
A skinnydipping nakedest remote
Viewer that loons a dreaming in a pond
Fractals a nascent green and gleimous note
Hanging athwart with someone's else's blonde.
Take heart.  The fish have lungs and breathe the air
Of a new day when everyfish can ***
With or without a whiff of underwear,
Though salty tears are sweetest under the sea.
Milfs are a pack of pickleballing hots
Playing to win a plate of tater tots.