Sonnet.75-And like a malediction barnyard'd,still dingy cry "salvation".To every rhyme, that every melody sings,to the home far away and nigh,lost in the inferno and massacr'd escapade of the guillotine,Begrudging thy miserly thou utter of prejudices for bunker'd time's fortune,and to the noblest of the forward violets,opulence at the barndoor glitters,
heartstrings that transmogrify for that screeching halt and then moult that heaves to a pensive culdesac mired with remorseless thatched roof,Which to salvage should'st thy chief motif be,O cherish this keystone that karma's bloody hell,wielding the bigstick might at eschatology refrain from thee,Shall regression be fairer than progression as most sacred procession,Be as thy negligence be,wanderest and insolent,Or thyself retreat from caution and caveat,Make thee repugnant to sedulous groove,for the reproach of hell,that nadir that ever struck may in thine amiss forever abode.
