#karl steven

Perchance I wonder'd 'pon a kindly star Of whether thou couldst render me some aid. I caution thee: mine's a conundrum rare That maketh men scream out, their will decay'd.

My drummers now return with yen to beat. A lutenist vaults a theorbo grand And like a nimble hare is quick of feet - So says the mistress of the beetle's band.

A moth sticks by a trancing, flick'ring fire As masons guilded labour at their toil. I call to them, "O brothers, let's retire! A warrior back-flips like a launchèd coil."

I will consume thee like a cream-filled puff! Can't get enough, no, I can't get enough.

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And here it is, for hers, or his, or hers In bick'ring sim'lar to their marriage vows! Alas, I will be, in this second verse, Having an abundance of platonic relationships reminiscent of my man, Mike Plato.

I walk'd the street and scream'd "I'm blind!", and yet No soul remark'd my agonising woe. I must have lost my mind; I couldn't get Another, couldn't get another, no.

And like a praetor's guard, an oath I've sworn To keep secure this humble village green. The dogs of war have savag'd, ripp'd and torn This land. I now keep home a normal scene.

These sweet rhymes fashion I straight from my cuff! Can't get enough, no, I can't get enough.

-- --

An obstacle! Oh no, these sonnets run Until the author findeth how to scale Their height, their width, their depth; oh no, not one Direction can he take to end this tale.

Oh rock my soul! These words turn stranger still; By now the author's standards are less picky. Who cares now for precision words to fill? A thing'majig! A what's-its-name! Doohickey!

Doolittle speaks of rain in Aragon That parachute-like pantaloons can't touch. And then I, euh, um, euh, no words anon! My stammer pounds my aching head so much.

Ooh ooh ooh, what am I suppos'd to do? I'm baffled by what motions are in train. Is one my star-cross'd lover fated true, Or are they too debauch'd to entertain?

Suck'd by the strongest current of the sea, I swim against their charms like finless cod. Oh, were I unconcern'd! A monkey free Would never cry despairingly to God.

Astrology compels them to my door. Magnetic luminàries, Devil's fruit! I try to hide but they return once more; These strumpets play my hungry enzyme's lute.