Lovely Sweet Caroline. In your Best Beige
Harness the Enduring Secret we should Know
Of your Fortitude cross-tied with his Gauge
Allowed most his Fancies to seep and grow
A-like, then, your Signed Lady become
Must by his Ring he forged to Interpret
Or forbid Translate; As Un-Bolted Doors some
Do keep the Honour of his Safe Concept
I bind this Ruse - thinking his Business owned
As far my Watcher's Eye opens to Threat
Would crumple Hearts en masse; Thus Speech be downed
And induce Promotion his Crumbs to forget.
Then let such Sizzling Smiles breed with you Two
Once all Storms subside and Red Skies turn Blue.

Merry dear Dad his Inner Kevlar endure
And allow my Years to promote his Prove
For Right-Side's Heal let his Honour be Pure
And mirror the Big Hand in Sky's Glory
For if it be this Son, sullen by Age
Of Desert Years twice-score he should Wander
Would share his Bread; To patient Sky quench Rage
And emulate our Saviour's Mercy ponder
Yet you. Still you. Be my Foundation's Best
Apart from Powers I could Un-Concieve
That Feigned but Guiding Hand; With all Lime's Zest
Harness it ever from Sugars too Sweet.
And yes, dear Dad; The Five-Pronged Bot did die
Yet withered their Ghosts to greet your Day by.

That I may wean Calliope's Time recall
Which in your Motives prove a Great Invite
With Deadening Memes praise our Dying Fall
And permit to draft our Scriptures incite
Yet how must these Stars let our Sages be
Then spice Darling Life Base Men endeavour?
Such - the Crumpted Art - though Ages percieve
Mothered our Values most take to Fetter?
God's Fire does Mend; As Proofed Stories say
Though Mint Investments became a Lost Cause
Yet to Win Hearts; Then Transform Someone's day
Was that same Fuel made Souls to Un-Pause.
Star-Spangled Angler, if my Verse un-impress
The least I Tried my Support will digress.

On Thousands squared add Tens then Sevens score
Will the Curry-World know what City's Fruit crave
Again-and-Again their Mint Hands adore
Thus clean the River's Edge for their Bright Knave
This all I know. Let your Charm do the rest
Far beyond Bloated your Experience spare
Where Mongers conjure; And Living Stunts test
The Juice such Plum flavours most Fingers there
The Artist speaks. Yet not from my Groaned Hand
Bejewelled by Bullies for my own East
Though Offers apply; Yet apply on Sand
Will browse Sentiments at the very least.
So the Poets live. By Paints and Notes dare
Till then, Flesh-Poet, my Heart sees you there.

As soon as this Templing Fortitude built
Then rid your Ghost from this Heartened Journey
Cast my Ring to Die; From Magma has Smelt
Once hopeful Anvil hammered on Blarney
The News indeed True. If Rumours conceive
One from your heart led much Secrets adhere
Have our Tongues paid for Lies and Coterie
To issue Swelled Bonds of Pain so severe
PIE and PI - yes - add these Fortiments add
Then power your Fumes for Others to choose
But un-tie Tradition; As Jack's Weaning sad
Framed him the Blamer for Peppers you rue.
So would it make sense your Person I pry
And Cast your Kingdom for your Mental's Fly?

Qwerty how your Current Species must thrive
Of Decade-Space-Nine-Precede-Units-Three
Till this Decantery states his Arrive
And spreads his Menu on how to be Free
Or LIVE! Whichever Road suits your Best Spice
After all, Sharks-on-Ribbons you abhor
Yet must not come to you as a Surprise
For Mum and her Nudgies push your own Fore
Yet Understand: Such Meaning dispossessed
Take Growing Values your Difference prone
And if you Comply, least your Arbor stressed
Partake your Conscience then leave you Alone.
And alone as well till my Fuels have Spent
Then search for Another less your Consent.

That Ladies compound such Prime Beauty's Field
As Aramaic known one Pure Language be
So would I jest to your Harmless Conceal
And Mark our Saviour with such Blasphemy
Yet through His Cross beg this Honourable Save
Though by the Wheel my Allegiance despite
His Universal Hand; Blow kisses to your knave
Then her Just Hugs cause Rebellion incite
And now? If that Editor shall you Heed
And ferment every Nuggish Word he writes
Would we say ******; As Osama indeed
Laughed his Grand Project of Onerous Sprites.
Still my Heart plants; Yet blast those Berry-Boons
Too seeded for my Taste though fit for Raccoons.