Sonnet CCCLXIV

Alone, amongst the waves, beneath the sun -
I fear I'll drown; I've waded out too far.
The seabirds cackle in a frenzied bunch,
detecting noontime spoils from afar.
So far from land, so far from everyone,
I cannot say why I feel merrier:
my cheeks exude a strange vermillion,
my eyes ablaze with some unearthly star.

Perhaps I do not need an audience:
if I should whisper some aquatic rhyme,
the simple joy of it is bountiful -
if one should pause to note its loveliness,
then it is Art; if one should call it crime,
then I am mad as any starving gull.

Sonnet CXXV

The moving pictures sometimes startle me,
their vividness is so believable.
The feelings felt so very vast and free,
the stories told so very palpable.

And yet the misinterpretations seen -
the segregation, so inevitable,
the liberty some take with history -
these things imprint themselves into our skulls.

And labelling becomes more prominent,
and scanty links with truth become less rare
and entertainment turns to ignorance.

Our joy should not be thought-imprisonment;
our movies shouldn’t bring those hopeless stares;
but wise enlightenment, not ignorance.

Sonnet CVIII

What is this strange and closed Society
comprised of Average Joes and plain Jane Does?
This group of those elite enough to be
the ones some call the “Normal” hominids?
Who are these foreign, strange communities,
closed up with plastic, joy-inducing lids?
Why am I so excluded from their creed?
Was it a thing I said or thought or did?

Perhaps, But really, I don’t care at all!
The Normal have conforming Greys and Blues.
And me? I have the freedom to appal…
to do whatever. I have all the hues
of individuality – but all
the rest must deal with their conformist views.

Sonnet CIV

I really should go run or stay outside
to keep myself from dying worst of deaths.
This worn-out corpse needs health and exercise!
so sloppy, messy, always out of breath…
from physical activity I hide…
It’s sad! I’m such a lazy little mess,
but now not little, getting much to wide…
it’s hard at times to wake and dress!

But I digress…hyperboles above
disguise my true condition – I’m not fat,
but certainly require more healthful ways.
And though I need a gentle – rougher - shove?
I should remind myself to stretch my back
occasionally – and exercise – it pays!

Sonnet XCV

There was a path upon a grassy hill.
Behind the hill the sunset lay, beyond.
While climbing up the path, kind crickets trilled,
but of the prickly plants I wasn’t fond.

The top was lovely, what a sight to see!
A sultry sun, completing daily rounds,
the trucks and lights of nearby factories,
and cigarette packs scattered on the ground.

The urban sprawl spreads far as one can think.
Construction rested for the night but still
the mounds of dirt lay all about in rings…
and water bottles litter all the hill.

I thought about the lists and plans I made…
then in the human starkness, nature fades.

Sonnet XCIII

Don’t put me near a baby learning shapes,
for I won’t fit in any of the holes.
I’m not the perfect size or height or shape.
Frustration soon would take its nasty toll.

I’d make a horrible and disliked shoe:
the boxes wouldn’t hold my length or width,
my oddness would create unrest anew,
for shoes don’t always fit (that’s just a myth).

So I should be content to be myself,
but humans have their own confines and moulds.
Each day we face the traps that gladly quell
our vast diversity with norms we’re told.

If nature made us each uniquely rare,
why should we use like standards to compare?

Sonnet LXXXIX

I saw a girl this morning, crying tears.
Her eyes were fire, bitter in her head,
of anger, pain, and sorrow’s burning fear,
by dismal happenchance and fate misled.

You’ve seen this girl. But what about her tears?
This girl could be a mother, working shifts
to feed three mouths, abandoned for a year.

Perhaps the woman shunned despite her gifts?

Perhaps cashiers who dreamt of more?
Perhaps the servant of her boyfriend’s whims?
The ever-giving wife, by all ignored?
The gal paid less because her name is Kim?

You think it’s easy for a sobbing girl
to live her life as scapegoat of the world?

Sonnet LXXIX

The gates, the doors, the windows puzzle me,
but still reveal a human’s tempering.
For only mortal barriers like these
stem from a mortal being’s hindrances.

For why obstruct the natural flow of earth
whose impish chaos thus defines the world
from undefined and random cycles birthed
which cause our rains to seem so childish?

I see no reason why our orders seek
to curb the happy line of endless life.
Perhaps, I see, to give security.
Our simple minds still crave simplicity

and scheduled joy and plainly joyous rules,
which hapless men do strive to keep as tools.

Sonnet LXXII

I bought a tin of tuna at the store.
I thought of you. I know. It’s sad.
This strange obsession’s driving me quite mad.
I think of you when buying albacore.

Flotillas filled with fish all roam the earth.
Each one I could have searched for one I liked,
but I found you. For all the clams and pikes
and mackerels have not a single worth.

What’s love? Who knows. But it’s unfair to you
to not know who you are. I’ll drop you here.
I’ll wait back by your docks, forever near.
Forgetting you, as all the goldfish do.

There will be many fish out in the sea.
But none will be as dear as you’re to me.

Sonnet LXIV

I swallow mayonnaise, the sumptuous spread,
all slathered on a piece of ancient bread.
The quiet afternoon is restless still
and pricks my skin, thus urging me to quill.

But nothing comes to mind and nothing will
as blank stares greet me from the window sill.
Sad empty promises all sing above,
for things to do are things to never love.

And schedules and timetables fly by
and drift away, forlorn by desperate sighs.
I relish reading facts on calories
that say that fat is actually good for me.

And so I eat my mayonnaise and bread
while reminiscing of my future dread.

Sonnet LIV

Oblivion! How sweet and sharp the word!
Propinquity has brought us here these days.
But ignorance shall keep us far away.
Oblivion, you help but hurt my cause.

How sadly I do love this perfect friend,
And yet neglect will keep her far away.
But yet, my bashfulness, alack, each day!
Is glad oblivion shuts out my love.

These cursed pangs of love are my demise.
I see her here, all day and every day.
And yet love won’t relent, it won’t away.
Oblivion prevents it and increases it.

Oh, poor sad me, so hopelessly in love.
If only crude neglect would it remove.

Sonnet XLIX

Let’s watch what little children see all day:
Those shows corrupt in content and in worth;
Cruel characters who sell crude violence
And constant ads for junk that to them pay.

Let’s see what adult females watch to-night:
Their soaps and scandals, filled with quick divorce,
“Celebrities”, promiscuous lives, and sex.
Thoughts slovenly, in every single plight.

Let’s view what patriarchs might watch to-day:
Their “news”, all biased, but believed as fact;
Those headlines, changing viewpoints constantly,
But recognized to keep all fears at bay.

Ah, television, foul, enticing ruse.
Through you morality and wit we lose.

Sonnet XLVIII

The sun is beating down so favourably!
Vacations all will take to happy lands.
The cars we drive pollute – but we don’t care!
They harm the future, but they harm not me!

The sun is beating down so violently.
Oh Africa! Lands of despair, of falling tears.
What have you done to warrant this?
Your children have no food nor families.

Two halves, one darkening, staggered home for all.
One sun, two frightful images compared.
While some eat dust, there’s others so obese
That helping’s action is too great for them.

We squander and we waste and stuff ourselves.
While others writhe in hear, we spoil ourselves.

Sonnet XLVII

The spurned will always grope for happiness
And compensate their lacking with their tears.
Their cries are empty, fallen, desolate;
Their cheerless plight will fall on deadened ears.

Our sightlessness is blinding avarice.
While others writhe in dismal pain,
We smile – on purpose! - gladly ignorant.
Indeed, lethargy is our disdain.

We shed our tears and drink them, desperate.
Our fears, we swallow as our daily bread.
For no one sees our lacrimosity.
Our anguished agony upon our heads,

The spurned will scream their names to deadened air.
And echoes mock them, beckoning despair.

Sonnet XXXII

“Buy this. Buy that. Do this. Do that.” they say.
We sit there, motionless, and must obey.
What choice is there? Conform or die of spite;
Accept the numbing influence, or fail.

Dance in the cathode rays which so delight
The brainless masses, hypnotized by light.
Our eyes transfixed by floating images,
Our brains, destroyed by dullness, atrophy.

Corruption dominates our present world.
Stupidity is marketed but why
Is Brilliance looked down upon as weird?
And unattainable and odd and strange?

The world now thinks that geniuses are rare,
But I believe a genius just must try.

Sonnet IV

A thousand souls have suffered here today,
Expectant of the summer’s golden praise.
Instead we’re scorched in pangs of heated flame.
We have unleashed a beast we cannot tame.

And so we ride in vehicles of doom,
Not caring whether we should surely die.
Short term effects deceive what all do see;
All we care of is what the cost shall be.

While half the world lives in their happy state,
The others die in scorching worlds of hate.
It’s really staggered how we’ve come to be.
We’re crashing to the end, can you not see?

We’re blinded by the light that shades us still.
Its name is IGNORANCE, our binding ill.