Sonnet 154...

...will be posted after 15th August 2014.  "The Open Mouse"  has been given  first bite!

5th June 1014

Sonnet 153

Cupid - lay down the brand and get to sleep;

Since sterile smooth technology's been found,

Since the cost of actual sex got too steep,

Your lovekindling fire's been forced underground:

Leaving us free to air clean, clear eyed love

And no more messy date nights to endure.

Young blades in hairnets at Sainsbury's* prove

Testosterone's killed by the kindness cure:

He said "I'm your server!" - love's brand new fired;

Fit guy - for trial needs, you can touch the breast

Here's a BOGOF** panting to be desired:

I'll get the room, you'll be my one night guest.

Rhyming STI's with little white lies

Can't stop him filling this housewife's bored eye.

*Supermarket where Laydee Shakespeare writes a lot in the café instead of getting her shopping done.

**Buy One Get One Free - supermarket ploy.

1st June 2014

Sonnet 152

In loving me we both know you're forsworn,

But I am twice the liar love of thee swearing;

You the old bed-vow broke, leaving faith torn,

I vowed old love - it's this new hate I'm bearing.

I won't be accused of what was  broke by thee -

Since my trust in Old Faithful's* not the most,

Swear some teary oaths,  I might show some  kindness -

Oaths of new love, new truth , some constancy;

 Just to enlighten me, give my eyes blindness**,

Make them swear blind it's the real you they see.

Then, swear me fair again my perjured eye -

I'll need some confidence to live this lie.

*Cone geyser in Yellowstone National Park, noted as one of the most predictable geographical features on Earth (erupting almost  every 91 minutes).

**Really?

28 May 2014

Sonnet 151

Needling man and wife:  whatever sex is*

For you Cupid's midlife crisis sends love.

His cocksure romantic campaign's amiss,

Gone commando with red roses to prove

What?  Bad lad mags under the bed betray

 (K)nobler parts prone to gross body treason:

The  small brain big prick disconnect.  Love may

Be dead - pricks don't see that as a reason,

They'll still rise for same old same old (that's thee);

Don't let yourself go, mothers of his pride,

Well trimmed rose landing strips the way to be

Prepared for your man and bits on the side.

      But beware c(o)untings and  late booty call:

      Are STI's** God's revenge on our fall???


*Prince Charles famous reply when he was asked if he was in love with Diana "Whatever love means..."

**New medical research showing rising incidence of  STI's among menopausal women , who are at more risk because of changes to their ahem "rose" .

    



   

26th May 2014

Sonnet 150

If it hadn't  been twenty-eight* I might

Have lent that gross Dark Laydee  wit some sway;

But equating love with beer goggle sight

Turned all my dawns to red PMT day.

Your love hangover's self-inflicted ill

Fuelled by bad alcohol related deeds;

A failure to launch small rapier skill

Means disappointment performance exceeds.

Let's split same day we marry and here's more:

 Keep it no-fault,  exit cheaply ex-hate

(Rich lawyers claim blind "love" rhymes with "abhor"),

No blame No shame DIY's divorce rate.

    Five Cosmos** and the magic happened for me -

    More crazy I to wait for love from thee.


* Theory that  twenty-eight sonnets in the Dark Lady sequence  correspond to female menstrual cycle.

**Cosmopolitan cocktails

       

    

22nd May 2014

Sonnet 148

Can't get stags in onsies outta my head:

Wee pickles neatly zipped up out of sight -

Where's their masculinity hormones fled?

Who's falsely censored what lads thought aright?

Lassies finding hens make a better dote:

French kissing openly on my street, so

What does heteronormality* denote?

Love's eye's more right than when "no" wasn't "no":

Not just Cupid - we too were blind to  true.

Us Eurovision viewers moved to tears

Like our glam bearded laydeez free to view:

The sun sees what no bigot censor clears.

    No he's or she's, just "it's"** if love is blind,

    Fault and faults left to hateful eyes to find.

*President Putin's word.

**Description (in Russian TV debate) of Eurovision 2014 winner.

20h May 2014

Sonnet 147


There's something to hate in everyone, still -

All-nighters' sex 'n' shopping's not disease,

What makes the world go round won't make you ill:

Could you just put  your PIN in for me , please?

Ok, I've conflated spending with love;

Multinational pharmaceuticals kept

Cures secret governments wouldn't approve;

We're in materialism'd grip; except -

Past cure I am, now reason is past care

What's come around went around my unrest:

Since I lost you both my regrets/grief are

Best blind drunk and disorderly expressed.

Husband and/or Mum - I've been less than bright:

Addiction not obsession dulls the night.

17th May 2014

Sonnet 146

Out there, somewhere,  some other waiting earth;

The one space debris doesn't yet array,

The one where minerals aren't a dearth,

The one where we can all evolve as gay.

Why such large waste having so short a lease?

(One second to midnight - it's The Big Spend;

Our splurge; our show dive into Lake Excess:

Das Kapital's invite only fag end,

Money for sex - holy profit and loss,

See "Fanny Hill" down your local porn store -

She fingered  all God's  whores working for dross:

What's instinctual  left us begging for more).

     Earth's lucre's filthy (either that or men )

    Prostitute Space - there's no more shopping* then.

*Another euphemism.

15th May 2014

Sonnet 145


She  Those lips that Love's own hand did make,

Now speak a lot less love than hate

To him that played  them for my sake;

And when I see his woeful state,

I go that's it, our end has come:

Tongue lashing's wrong but oh so sweet

So worth it so what if it's doom -

Sticking together's one big greet.

He  Don't be daft - you know we can't end

This decider Match of the Day,

There's no ref could send off this fiend,

This dirty Dad, for games away.

    Together Let's ignore expletives we threw,

                     Sing songs for our team - Man and U.

14th May 2014

Sonnet 144

Yes Mum, you were both comfort and despair:

Wish I believed in angels or ghosts - still

There should be something left or it's not fair

You're dead when there's loads older folks not ill?

We know Nature knows no good or evil,

Conceits keeps us looking on the bright side,

If we exorcise DNA's devil

There'll be no saints or sinners or foul pride.

Your tastes were too lurid for me I find,

I might be as gross*, but too soon to tell

How much of you I got; meet my new friend

Psychomachia** - it's not knowing's Hell.

    Yet this shall I ne'er know but live in doubt:

    Will what you've left in me get fired out?

*12x12=144=a gross (Shakespeare, not me)

**Medieval concept in which a good angel and an evil one compete for possession of a man's (laydee's) soul.

12th May 2014

Sonnet 143

GH* - that's one rogue gene I couldn't catch,

It died out some generations away,

So Mum could combine hatch, match and dispatch

With pursuit of that fame she would have stay;

Me,  resentful child who held her in chase,

Tried to stop her whose busy care was bent

Grabbing that fowl which others fear to face:

Political means to fight discontent.

Gone - but still running for that which flies thee,

Support of supporters you left behind,

Standing between what's grief for you from me -

And worse when former foes start being kind!

    Curse or bless Boadicea's genes as you will :

     Her choices make my consequences still.

*Good Housekeeping

8th May 2014

Sonnet 142

Back in the 80's I'd make friends you'd hate

- when we had to have exclusive loving

- and dignify newly hitched married's state -

- you unwoo'd me by spousal reproving

- or threatened us with making me unthine

- divorce to spare your scarlet ornaments*

 - a one man Kray twins extorting love rents

- what's yours was mine mine forever just mine...

...I'm still expected to forget all those

Whom thine eyes woo'd when sex with me bored thee

So joint value of our real estate grows -

 Who still feels love the way it used to be?

    (Hope there's no love child you're trying to hide -

      Bloodline inheritance can't be denied!) 

*er - blushes.

7th May 2014

Sonnet 141

(It's not good, hating on Her* with your eyes:

Fresh weds you know you really should take note:

It may take some time, but you will dispise

The one on whom your loved-up optics dote.)

So, Shakespeare - a man  less than delighted

Finding both him and his 5 sences prone

To dark sex the beast in him invited

When his more manly love left him alone.

What he should've told her was "Love - you can

Be a bit more me and a lot less thee

Til it gets legal to be man to man;

Pretty pretty please  - let's pretending be?

    Dumbed down verse  (in  no way poetry's gain):

    But hating on ho's Will - that's guy sex  paine.

*or Him
**I appreciate that there is some debate as to the correct plural of "ho".

4th May 2014

Sonnet 140

Let's not pretend that I don't try to press

Your buttons with my pizzled* old disdain,

By remixing our culture* we express,

 Participate, in authenticated pain.*

You want to reach me? Far better it were

Had I embraced sleepless logged-on love so

Love love me do - your audio so near

So in my head no news but you I know.

But if I do log off  should I grow mad

When wild birdsong readily outdrownes  thee?

I prophesise world viral love turns bad

Once madde hackers by madde ears believed be:

    That I may not be so, nor thou belyde**,

    My portal's kept at 1 "I love you" wide. 


*With thanks to David Shing, AOL digital prophet.

**lied about

3rd May 2014

Sonnet 139

They say "She looks like you!" I pray they're wrong

And their optic nerve's joined up to their heart

Which is what brings on sentimental tongue:

Poets shouldn't treat brain science as art.

Digress Age 10 you dressed me quelle quelle sight!

 Enforcing thus  Mother's will harsh aside

Early pubescent wearing  bouffant might

Be more than my ore-prest defence could bide?

I don't do pain I'm no poet God knows,

One reacts to one's thoughts as enemies,

Me and my meditations are old foes,

But both fighting Freudian injuries:

I'll not be like Nabokov's waxwing slain...*

"Wait!  All we saw in you was her pre-pain..."


*Refers to the long poem at the start of Vladimir Nabokov's novel "Pale Fire".

29th April 2014

Sonnet 138

The publicity shots that made her truth

Where the unimperished image still lies:

No shadow sunk snaps of a long past youth:

Charisma shines with all her subtleties.

Reprint a refrain of when she was young,

When I identified with her most best,

Before I spoke with her same sounding tongue,

Before my disappointment got suppressed:

Her beauty died with her, that felt unjust,

She'd always made younger women look old,

Including her daughter - who could I trust

To denigrate what every camera told?

    I pretended for her, and she for  me;

     Daughters , by mums it's best to flattered be.

27th April 2014

Sonnet 137

Black on white pussycat bow, teardropped eyes

Oh my remodelled blouse it's unique, see -

Every eye sports it's tear, bodice of lies

Confected like my public face must be.

Shutters clicking press expose bald looks,

Babez we know you're not here for any ride:

Why of eyes falsehood hast thou forged hooks,

Why is  your pussycat so tightly tied?

Vanity, all is driven by my vanity's  plot

To showcase me in this galleried place;

Ego controlled - I liked to think I'm not

(Wrong!  Your heart's desire's an expose'd face).

Should I admit a mother's heart that erred

With her plague - fame -  beneath these eyes transferred?

26th April 2014

Sonnet 136

If my soul checks me that you come too near,

Years of your probing, performancing will -

A will my pizzled* soul admitted there

Whilst subsuming it's own self to fulfil

Your will: rude crude mechanics of our love,

At first a tandem, lately built for one,

What do maritals' bare stats of will prove

When change of mind set registers a "none"?

Then in statistics let me pass untold

With fantasies of celebs you could be,

For nothing hold me , put my will on hold,

Me's dead to me, a some-time wife to thee.

    I changed my name for thee and love that still,

    Bu paid with my lusty maidenhood's will.  

*Word invented by AOL strategist - conglomeration of pissed-off and puzzled.

25th April 2014

Sonnet 135

This social media fuels our whoring, Will,

And how our ass heads get size'd extra-plus,

Poking sad virtual friends whilst sitting still,

Willing Wills onto sex addictions thus.

Insatiable Will (The Bard says "spacious")

Seeks 24 hours global love like thine

While trashing what Will used to call "gracious":

Wifi will's rubbed off romantic Will's shine.

Seas rising receive our acid rains still;

Add ice caps melting - God knows what's in store:

Homo sapien left to his server's will

Will do it less while fantasising more.

Hard Drive Warming - A Myth or does it Kill?

Our Carbon Footprint - Bigger than Our Will?

24th April 2014

Sonnet 134

So...now I have confessed that he is thine,

And me, myself mortgaged to the father's will ,

Saving myself means listening hard for mine:

Maternal steel can be my comfort still.

When she passed, I imagined I was free

To express myself, that one of a kind

Who doesn't need a guarantee of me,

Independent of mother/daughter bind.

The statutes of marriage (what's left to take;

Oh morals left bankrupt, such careless use!

Was it all just for procreation's sake?)

Breeding much generational abuse.

Matrimony's instutionalised  me,

Mum's three weeks gone , and yet am I not free.

22nd April 2014

Sonnet 133

Big Russian doll she broke let out a groan,

It was her father-in-law's (she was me),

Left in the room to stand disgraced, alone,

Scared of his temper - was this her to be?

Initially glad to be spousetaken,

Husband monopolisations ingrossed

Her inner babydoll; left forsaken

The maiden: dread spinster's rubicon crossed.

At heart of course she was still Mummy's warde,

A Mum's heart is always daughter's best bale,

Dead yet, yet beating inside her, her garde:

This inheritance used to be her jail.

So she tells him "Yes, your son's pent in thee,

Like I was in she - now she's pent in me".

2oth April 2014

Sonnet 132

Eyes, eyes, everyone's eyes searching through me

For pity, for mourning, or rank disdain,

Not finding who's gone, who I'll never be -

Have her fans guessed who's simulating pain?

If it's Nothing - nothing; if not - Heaven

That's waiting for her far side of life's East,

With that full Starre that ushers in the Eaven

Halfed in it's glory by her resting West.

Mary's* white mourning veil creeps round your face,

What would they find carved on this scotch queen's heart?  

 Road to Fotheringay,** playing her part,

Every stranger's wearing my mourner's blacke,

And all they foule that thy complexion lacke.


* Mary (1542 -1587) Queen of Scots, Reigned 1542 - 62, in White Mourning.  Painting by Francois Clouet.

** "The Royal Road to Fotheringay" by Jean Plaidy.   Tells story of   Mary's early years in the French court. 

18th April 2014

Sonnet 131

I can't be Liza*, echoing Mum's art

While fans eulogise biopics, the cruel 

 Proof of what she had to be, give - all heart;

Starlet supercharge left her carbon  jewel.

Yet in good faith some say that me behold

I am but chip off an old block (all groan),

I know they know I'm not so brave so bold

So no star quality - best left alone.

But to be sure, this is not false I swear;

Her talent died with her but not her face,

Her reflected reprise too much to bear -

My self-image was left in a bad place.

How I look's no memorial to her deeds,

Again - I'm no Liza: still Mum's fame proceeds.


*Minnelli, daughter of Judy Garland.

17th April 2014

Sonnet 130

You're gone - I could do Page 3 in The Sun,

Collar and cuffs Elizabethan red,

Lose this academic's frizz of grey dun,

Kind thoughts and sympathy squashing my head.

Brass blonde to the end  - what's so wrong with white?

Decades of bronzer sunken in your cheeks,

Channel shopping hopping: deathbed delight;

"Part of the QVC Family" - that reeks.

What you're revered for - what the public know;

Strength; integrity; judgement staying sound;

Precious gems left semi as they fade, go:

Civic goddess falling softly to ground.

Condolence cards remind me you were rare:

I'm scared what I'll do now there's no compare. 

15th April 2014

Sonnet 129

Th'expense of spirit is seldom our shame

Since it got cheap to consume our rude lust

In fat, sugar and carbs - but who's to blame?

Whose buck broke mass consumption's deed of trust?

Injoyd no sooner but dispised straight,

The slow build-up: eazee tastee snax had,

Cadbury's hated as a  swallowed bait;

Loss leaders layd to make the taker mad.

I think Will's puns were mostly sex'd male*, so,

Laydees, gents, to undignified extreme -

Maybe morbid I know but it's our woe:

Flight weight will soon be  birdsong in a dream.

    All this the world well knows yet none knows well

     To shun the junk that leads us to this hell.


*"Spirit"...(line 1)

14th April 2014

Sonnet 128

...let your country and western favourites playst

In preference to more devotional sounds,

Sheer force of personality's what swayst 

When pure political theory confounds.

Should I emulate fans whose nimble leap

Of faith in you gets broadcast hand to hand,

Propagating the crop I won't reap?

No - self-independence is my last stand.

Kissing-off corpse make-up (laid out in state:

Petal pink face,  fingers frozen like chips,

Will I inherit XL coffin's gait?)

Rubbing poetic logic on my lips:

     Ingrate not to be grateful for all this,

     Feed  them the image; I knew who I kiss.

12th April 2014

Sonnet 127


Death robbed my prerogative "It's Not Fair!",

Mum, you left no more than a  father's name,

Still strangers think me the politic heir,

But incidental fame bred offspring shame:

It was crap hiding from exposure's power

Behind forced rhubarb rhubarb smiling face,

Anon anon: the nameless hokey's bower,

Fifteen minutes: all it takes to disgrace.

For her life's celebration - wear no black,

Not what she wanted.  Cry - let mourners seem

To reflect her colours (what they now lack),

 Teardrop'd rainbow: covenanted  esteem.

A daughter left, becoming in her woe

Just like her mother.  I can't fight it, so...






  

10th April 2014

Sonnet 126

...even The End seems to be in her power,

Timed from my leaving, it's within the hour;

She's  here yet in absentia and show'st

A conundrum - since she died my love grow'st.

Watching Nature recycle ruin (wrack)

From bud to deadhead and seasonally back

(To spot her in  cankerless bud takes skill):

This reversion: a promise death can't kill.

Yet fear her, O thou minnion of her pleasure,

Thinking you've bypassed grief, gone straight to treasure?

     Her Audite* (though delayed) answer'd must be,

     And her Quietus** is to render thee.


* final account

**quietus est - i)she is quit   ii)discharge from life, peace.

9th April 2014

Sonnet 125

I'll make her a handpainted canopy -

And deliver the last speech honouring

A life lightly rouged for eternity,

No mourners with their memories ruining,

I've  heard the dwellers on form and favour

Pay their dull respects of inflated rent,

Lip defence against death's rattling savour:

When I left just as her breathing was spent

I could not find obsequious in my heart;

Old photographs that belie I was ever free

Not to make dutiful daughter my art -

Our mutuall render:  one way me for thee.

    Laid out in white: stubborn, stubborn soul;

    I scribbled a  mask*, she gave up control .


*Refers to practice of applying cosmetics to deceased persons.

8th April, 2014

Sonnet 124

No, I don't want to see you laid out in state,

Proof of me now  unmothered and unfathered,

I love not feeling daughter kind of hate

Or like a weed left once the flower's been gathered.

Birth is better thought as Fate's accident -

Let stars decide what day your birthday falls;

Difficult now not to voice discontent:

 "She's the spit of me!" ( I still hear the  calls )

What's wrong with her?  Ungrateful Heriticke

Who willed away her mum's last breathing hours

Kissing my head ( body's too politic).

Weeds to flowers : re-use of old April showers:

    To this I witness call the fools of time,*

    Shared DNA's more infinite than crime.**

*  All of us, given that according to Shakespeare (and Einstein), time is subjective
** Prebiotic compounds may have extraterrestrial origin. NASA findings in 2011, based on studies with meteorites found on Earth, suggest DNA and RNA components (adenine, guanine and related organic molecules) may be formed in outer space.^{[91][92][93][94]}

7th April, 2014

Sonnet 123


Yes! What's in me's same but what's out will change,

You were built like a pyramid of might,

The daughter in thrall to mummy, not strange

When  cameras were her chosen lines of sight:

A public property's tough to admire

Up close all her life  -  not publically old

Even when dead to costume jewel desire:

Still more precious than the dull rest, we're told.

Thy registers and thee I both defie

Without trying, now I've outlived your past:

Mouth kind elegies not minding some lie

Made more or less by thy continuall hast:

    This I doe vow and this shall ever be,

     Now I can be true to what's left of thee.

April 2nd, 2014

Sonnet 122

 Ruffs, stuff he wore, breathed with scent of his braine,

Recycled to rag, then paper memory,*

Burnt or buried, there's elements remain:

Will's carbon's still writing eternity.

Motes of an hysteric erotic heart

Air pumped still atmospherically subsist -

Breathed into A4 leaves, I blow to part

Rhymes of his; I steal breathing space of mist.

Tran substantive piece of you I can hold,

Write on. I'm a dog barking Mozart's score,

(What are you doing? Please stop making bold

When even Larry O.** didn't add more).

I write these adjuncts to remember thee,

Just to feel your breath breathe inside of me.

*Clothes in Elizabethan England were recycled because fabric was so expensive - from hand-me-downs to rags and, eventually, paper.
**Sir Lawrence Olivier

1st April 2014

Sonnet 120

I forgive you!  It's all forgiven now

I've felt all the bitterness I can feel,

Jealousy's taken her final bow,

Got back my nerves of brasse and hammered steele.

Despite the core of me being shaken

I still believe in Once Upon a Time

And not blaming me for choices taken:

Loving the sinner just hating his crime.

We came through our night of woe, remembered

How it feels to take all those vicious hits;

Get thrown back what kindness you tender'd,

With the knowledge your face no longer fits.

Fillies you're dating - they're No Win No Fee,

        April Fool!  (Not the one you played on me.)


Sonnet 121

Millions of Followers, yet not esteemed

Until foibles obliterate being,

Ridiculed; judged; dissected; not deemed

To have equivalence of self-seeing.

What eyes those eyes this small world has, what eyes

To hunt down celebs and scent their blood

Easily by drones - the moral mass spies

Dedicated to Ugly, Bad and Good.

Hounds bringing down white harts to levell

What's consumed for pleasure with who we owne:

This world's axis is in fact a bevel:

Sanity depends on what kids get shown.*

     Disgrace is meeja's birthright, we maintain

     (It's free-to-heir) this global platform's reign.


*"Smartphones risk turning children into criminals"

Daily Telegraph, Tuesday, April 1, 2014

31st March 2014

Sonnet 118


Self denial's not our style, we're not keen

To deny our pallat's their every urge,

Fat squeezing internal organs unseen,

Once a year it's kind of it's for Lent purge .

Sicker getting sicker of corn syrup's ranke sweetnesse -

We use dietary aids to frame our feeding,

All my pals on the 5:2 seek meetnesse,*

Twice per week the starvation  we're all needing.

Obesity - could we anticipate

How sweets for our sweet made Type 2 assured?

We got fat on a cash starved nanny state,

She taught us greed was good - that can't be cured.

    We are how much we eat, it's the new true,

     Keep consuming consumers: it's all you.


*propriety


Sonnet 119

It won't take five fingers to count the tears

You've spilt for me - when Doc Voddy's within

The gold harp chants old diehards' hopes and fears:

Whyohwhyohwhy won't Hibs ever win?*

Off the ball fouls cynically committed,

Not on home turf you swear no not never,

But since you got that smartphone it's fitted

To your eye for pay-per-view porn fever.

It's a game of two halves, false and true,

You cheat, I capitulate; it's better

To play on than learn love's ground rules anew:

0 - 0 draws leave neither of us greater.

You're relieved I've taken you back - content.

That rubber you bounced back on's limp - spent.


*Hibernian FC last won the Scottish Cup in 1902

30th April, 2014

Sonnet 117

Everything I stole from you Shakespeare, all

Rhymes, thoughts and words, how could I repay?

My sonnet friend, my best gay friend I call

You for the long, long view of my small day -

That I have frequent been with unknown minds:

Untrue! Untrue! But your approach was right.

I read it was homiletic* winds

Drove the beautiful boy (who?) from  your sight.

My first boyfriend two-timed me, let me down,

From then I declined to accumulate

Vulnerabilities.  Therapists frown:

They claim I'm closed - but at least I don't hate.

These sonnets - what am I trying to prove?

That constancy and virtue outlive love?

*preachy

30th March, 2014

Sonnet 116

White weddings - just fit for male/female mindes?  -

Leftovers from days of pure hetero love

Which alters when it alteration finds

King James' strictures* at oh so far remove.

Like Eton's class (now money'd) mark -

The market value of birthright's shaken ...

Same Sex  owl and  pussycat in their bark -

This honeymoon's all their money taken!

Willow birch bark ** stripped to cool rosie cheeks,

Leaves the maypole compass - wedding guests come,

They've practised wedding hair/make-ups for weeks

To dance ribbons round "til Death us do..." doom.

Time tells what Kings and cabbages proved:

What we thought the less was all that Will loved.

*"wikiHow" entry: How to Make Aspirin if You're Lost in the Woods.  STEP 1 - Rip some bark off a willow tree...

**Proverbs 18:22  Whoso findeth a wife findeth a good thing and obtaineth favour of the LORD.  Marriage is not something we invent or change to suit our own fleshly desires.

27th March 2014

Sonnet 113

We are the sums of our experience, mind,

 Proust took seven novels to talk about

How acute sense of smell still leaves us blind


To what we don't want the brain to work out.

Wedding bells ringing from birth in our heart -

They're not a sign of intellectual lack

If we accept love as life's greatest part?

White harts we run in wide circles to catch:

The romance, the romance,  unjaded sight:

Love's endangered beast /mythical creature

Belief - man's most distinguishing feature).

Sweet synaesthesia I took to be you;

What's measure'd by brain waves can't be untrue?


Sonnet 114

Your eyes, they're playing dirty tricks on you:

"Do you remember when...?"  flattery

To distract me from what you wish was true,

What you like - pornograpply's alchemy,

That makes of porn stars and things indigest

Such cherubines as my sweet selfe resemble,

Creating every bad a perfect best

As fast as downloads to your beames assemble.

You say it's what all the guys are seeing

To keep post-industrial peckers up;

The currency tired eyes' gust keep greeing,

New Eden in a Soho stripper's cup -

How to monetise original sin:

See me?  I'll be dirty Eve - you begin...



Sonnet 115

Conscious uncoupling - that therapised lie

She'll tell to pretend that what's left's dearer

To the kids than divorce.  We reason why


Not Gwynnie, your GLOOP's never been clearer.

Online lives like yours don't do accidents,

Gilded's not the prerogative of kings

 Since deference deceased, to all intents;

Big business needs big stars to sell us things.

In your blog, growing image tyrannie

Life at it's macrobiotical best

Cancels emotional uncertainties,

Crowning the present, doubting of the rest.

Her bottom line has the final say so:

Uncouple love, let online empires grow.



 

26th March 2014

Sonnet 112

Can hyperinterconnectedness fill

This dyspraxia that's in my brow?

Remote hypnotherapyse when I'm ill

Keep my slate clean for what law'll allow?

The self as individual - thrive or strive

Speaking in predictive text's worldwide tongue:

Ventilator'd Wi-Fi keeps us alive

And no bugs to fight - Google's never wrong.

Where do we come from?  I don't think I care,

What are we doing? Light years  don't make sense,

Where are we going?  Where the dark holes are

Sweetheart we're parallel universe bred:

Make virtual love, let's pretend we're not dead.

23rd March 2014

Sonnet 111


Please don't feel obliged to pretend chide

Gender for my lack of noteworthy deeds,

Your paternalistic drive to provide

Cash, dosh, lucre, to support our small breeds.

It was my choice to be a failing brand -

When you're at home all day you get subdued,

Tainted by housework, like the dyer's hand;

And every month oestrogen is renewed.

So much for government guidelines - I'll drink

Pints to quell big girl's hormones infection -

No bitterness that I will bitter think:

Waiting for testosterone correction.*

Pity me not dear friend, I can assure ye:

When I'm dry you'll love the inner male me.


*Increases during female menopause.

22nd March 2014

Sonnet 110

Alas, 'tis true, I starve me here and there,

And make my bod a motley to the view,

Quash cravings, call fat what is most dear,

Make old offences of affections new.

It's mostly true that I look on the truth

Asconce and strangely: But despite above,

These choices don't seem delusions of youth,

There's worse crimes than my  case of self-hate/love,

It's never done, denial has no end,

Mine appetite I never more will grin' de

On forbidden crabs - hunger's my best friend,

Goddess in love, to me I am confined.

    Measure me skinny, better than my best

      Even if it means this meanly shrunk breast.

11th March 2014

Sonnet 108


A corrupted Times Roman character,

Download via Trojan ether spirit

Encrypted to seal  weake heart's register 

That might express my love, or thy deare merit.

 We were six when angels acted divine,

The Lord's Prayer - we  said it all the same,

 Old rotes of kingdom; power; glory; thine -

The black chalk slate to write, to touch a name.

Madman on canal, redundant briefcase

 Carries his wordtunes, birdsong from Will's age

Meters the pace, his portal to love's place,

Each tattered touchscreen, every close writ page.

The machines remember why we were bred -

 If four letter password works - we're not dead.
             

10th March 2014

Sonnet 109

Until we saw  "L'inconnu du lac", heart:

Preposterouslie straight my qualify;

There was no spectrum from which to depart,

 All I got was hetero - I won't lie.

Guy on guy bit porn actors cruised (ranged)

Luxe, calme et volupte: Eden again,

Bodily fluids freely exchanged;

Sex en plein air forgets the Adam stain.

Red chalked virgin queen who you English reigned,

Man's heart left to woman's body, but blood

 Of the white hart left her bed rainbow stained

(I wish my climacterics felt as good).

It's my laydee genes on menopausal call,

I smelt the rose at rainbow's end, that's all.