Writing a Sonnet Through to Morning – Mad Chaos: April 3, 1999

A Chain Reborn and a Football Game

The climb is steady but not brief as we take this new month of tidings to a storm of readiness. Far from the outcries of misfortune, we have shed that taper with the rebirth of my chain, the fragments of my fate and faith. The first day of this new month must have been for fools to decipher but I have not fooled myself of the rightful path I wished to lead.

Already Doing Something Unusual

Already I have done something I would ought not do in normal circumstance. Yesterday, I did not celebrate an unlit sky or glorify an affliction to my brazen brawn with memories of the lost years but I did to great celebrations lead myself. Heading off to a football game was the dawn of my adventure at the new Olympic Stadium where Brisbane Broncos and Canterbury Bulldogs battled for supremacy. Where five glorious weeks have passed and yet not one win to the maroon and gold to embrace their rapture, I did but try to aid by licking their wounds.

Sleepless for the Sake of Poetry

The second step towards inclination was for my poetry once again to embark. This very morning I did not sleep until midday as I thought to keep myself up with only one determining thought, to write poetry. Trying to get to sleep at 5:30 a.m. I was restless upon my waterbed and then once again upon the floor. Aided only by darkness it could not halt the premonition of poetry.

Thus, from 6:30 a.m. right until 11:30 a.m. I wrote poetry, a Sonnet. The initial hours were not to the tune of a Sonnet but I did try swelling with mass broadening my poetical lines. There through the thought and attentive musing I did upon a sedulous line stumble. With the ornate words that did follow I began a base for a following. Words upon words, play upon play, pictures upon pictures, I did with all these build sedimentary verse. What residue did reside, I did it not pluck for the finer morsel of my Sonnet. Here now is my Sonnet…

A Humorous Sonnet

Dost thou mock with fumbling atrocities

Pity the fool that fear durst waive his crime,

He, who with postulate clouds hath beset me,

And proud didst thou drink what’s now bitter whine,

Soused in wayward errant and Gluttony,

Drink nor wash, save with mercy be thy thoughts,

That I in ignoble hands shall farce haste,

Make lewd what is vaunting and for thy sorts,

Encrust misfortune’s urn an’t earn thee faith,

Curb thy loses and count thy cumbrances,

Hapless lions midst thy swaggering sheep,

For thy braggart brood, raillery fences,

For thy disrepute save thine paws do keep,

I jest words and wit they fare better speak,

As fools try with jesters my crown to weak,

Off to the Nightclub With Ralf

This with later explanation I shall for this humorous Sonnet entail but for now I must be off with my inclination. With Ralf just on the phone we are planning out of nowhere to head out to Carmen’s nightclub. Just the two of us I did protest greatly upon but he is impetuous and I the party man, so we will be off. Everyone else is out doing their own thing so for the sake that there is nothing else to do, I must lower myself to redoubled action.