Sonnet

Out of my Box [new sonnet]

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There comes a point one sees life as a speck
of fabricated time in ballet shoes.
Thus, poised in arabesque, I stick my neck
out gently, seeking other avenues.

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Recurring Dream [new sonnet]

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“What pleases you?”, she said, her voice aglow.
(Her arms were smiling, and her eyes were too).
ME: “Gentleness and quiet strength which flow
my way, and warmth, are what I love from you”.

Read the rest of this entry »

A Flag is a Rag – 3 Sonnets in the Aftermath of Independence Day

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SONNET I

You speak of “independence” on this day
as if you live a life of freedom won,
then fly your flag — a mere rag on display.
(You’re only “brave” when crouched behind your gun).

Read the rest of this entry »

A Sonnet for All Soldier Boys (& Girls)

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Dear soldier boy, there’s nothing to defend.
Your masters have decided what has worth.
(Dear soldier girl, what irony to send
lives to their death. The womb’s for giving birth!).

Read the rest of this entry »

Lost Soul [new sonnet]

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Her face was heavy as a thundercloud.
Her words fell stiff upon the ground as clay.
Then, finally, she cried this sound aloud:
“I lost my soul somewhere along the way”.

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The Time has Come [new double sonnet]

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Hourglass

THE TIME HAS COME [new double sonnet]

There’s much fine-trimming going on round here;
I’m slimming down my world to just a flame —
a single candle burning bright and clear.
To keep my equilibrium’s the aim.

So those who make false claims will be the first
to get the axe from my uncensored hand.
Next, constant rudeness which is interspersed
with hubris and disdain will get you banned. Read the rest of this entry »

Sonnet to the Face of Deep

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I see a face and think “Is this a mask?
Has clarity been stolen from those eyes?”
These are the questions which I’m forced to ask
when I’m confronted with a poor disguise. Read the rest of this entry »

Sonnet for Borrowed Time

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Like Autumn leaves, we live on borrowed time
before the parched and brownly breeze-dried branch
becomes a lifeless dusty paradigm,
when our molecules dissolve [avalanche]. Read the rest of this entry »

Sonnet to the Sacred Hole

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Far too many love-songs do not really
speak of love. They deal with fuckness fickle —
light infatuation, never deeply
sucking on the temple’s golden nipple. Read the rest of this entry »

Nothing to Offer but my Words [sonnet]

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Please walk with me, but only if you dare;
for I have naught to offer but my words.
That’s all I have left in this world to share
(although, for some, I know that this disturbs). Read the rest of this entry »