Cheeky Missy
Roll Nonchalance Across Yer Tongue
I Really Should...Laugh, Is It?
(sonnet #MMMMMMMMCMVIII)
You know what tis; there is no changing hale,
Cruel facts: you\'ve been blacklisted as she thence
Forgets all you both knew, and tells aught hence
Of how bad she thinks you are; no detail
She swore would keep you twa friends can avail,
Your hotter temper saw to that: your sense
Which said you\'d block her for a spell fr\'intents
Lead to this, and she can\'t miss you...sans bail.
She wept whenas we parted, but twas her,
Not me. I could be strong. She said we\'d do
The text and phone call thing. That ended fer
Who knows what cause...before she left. I knew
She allus lied, yet still am baffled. Were
There hope, twas false. I have what erst was true.
08Oct24a
...or what is it?
To Say I\'m Drowning Is Passe
(sonnet #MMMMMMMMCMIX)
No more the carefree girl whose sheer defense
Was home within her father\'s house; those hale
Joys gone, this feigning I\'m ambiv\'lent\'d fail:
Cuz I am not. Back then I thought fr\'intents
That I was not carefree, yet how I\'ve sense
To see I was...and now am not. Avail
Me of a bit of cheer? Oh sure. Derail
Such in a heartbeat too, for twas pretense.
Why does my mind swear tis lo, Jan\'ry?! were
There just cause, what is it? For October\'s through
But one week, yet I think that Feb\'ry\'d stir
Next month, my bills far oer mine head. I do
Not have my father to provide in tour,
Or do I? LORD, redeem me, please, won\'t You?
08Oct24b
Mebbe aka Soren [Kierkegaard] Barrett knows.
Why Maunt I Shake Tis January?
(sonnet #MMMMMMMMCMXII)
Go flip me out like yoghurts lately; frail
Though aught excuse, I\'m still here, with a sense
I canna shake, cuz I don\'t wanna thence
Be is\'t? I slept more soundly like t\'avail
Me of the mere suggestion could own bail,
Yet such, erm, follies are but cruel pretense.
I neither want this scene nor can from hence
Return to aught I knew, so which detail?
Where pink begins to romance night as t\'were,
Find Ian Van Dahl\'s beat in my fingers to
Drive forward \"Castles In the Sky\" as poor,
Til ere dawn break, find what \'neath softest blue
Heavns? How Thy mercies new each morning stir
Afresh, Thy sparrows sweetly sing of You.
10Oct24a