Doctoring Chaos as Poets You and I: Sonnets as of Sappho they were Born

Beauty is the Defiance of Authority
wrote the Poet, Sir Williams of Jersey,
AnthroPaterson, Doctor Humankind.

What do these long lines do for you Girl?
What is there there there ehhhh Purpose?

"To Be a Machine of Words? I implore say More.
To be (a large or small) Machine of Words.
Bill who doesn't Bill his Patients the Poor,
the Immigrant, the Whore..."

I-I-I-am the Whore of Poetry, not You,

Edith Morris Vasquez, why you--you--you are NOT
what they Claim. No You are what they AVER:
Death Death is the Cure they Seek
to the Townsfolk, to the Mench, to the Vato

"Then I will defy you and Write Sonnets as of Sappho."







This Sonnet is a Fictional Work. Any perceived, apparent, or implied relationship to entities or persons is coincidental.

Celebrity News:Stalactite Dust Glitter in the Window Pane:

I gazed at you Radiant Dust Sparkle
in the wedge of a Curtain, magnifique
elegance, je n'e se quois, Palabrita,
que tal? Perfume de mi Memoria,
as a perfume my Memory I perceive
and innocent, the Imagination
announces its Entrance, Sudden
Poetic Papparazzi, Red Carpet
of my Fascination, HollyWorded
Media Espectaculo Sensacion Glitz;
I wanna say Something important as
Celebrity news, ol' Doctor Williams....
Imported Tropical Flowers in Glass:
of Radiance turned to Powder at Last.

Neurological Blizzard: Doctor Poetry

Ah, don't ask me for introductions, you'd
probably prefer not to unwind me
Just Invite me. I’ll be There. I've no Need

for Small Talk, I am Paperless and Papered

and Credentialed to Speak without Apologies.

Am I an illegal you might be wondering?
I've got a lot to say about that.Wanna see?

I sense it is True beyond Doubt quite

Self-Evident. I’m a Performance Poet.

Accurate literary Historian, and sort of

an Aesthetic Marxist if you must det. by

Simple Association to Walter Benjamin

Franklin. There you Go, a Conflation.

(No, not conflagration.  Psss. it is ...elsewhere.~

Now, a memory of Mrs. Feiber…(and WCW-like:

the mouths of Polish mothers spikes American

language, its not Britisher.  Find it among the

Broken of Mind, the Ill, Indigent, Immigrant,

Infirm—all my patients they are mine—But,

once in a while F-Off! I’ve a woman to whore

and I am her, the lame male, the Doe, female,

Dionysian, Flores para los santos,

There in Mayaguez, Elena, Mother,

“Two Pendants: for the Ears.”

I’m a Special Collections Library Fellow,

Hello, yes I am here. Might you just assist

me? I am presently exhibiting an inside Weather.

It’s Culturally Constructed? WTF

WCW mental Mania, Dual contraction,

forging itself. Break the line Somewhere

REAL don’t let me down now,

I’ll erase it later, but I must say it now, I AM SAD,

So Depressed, its hurts in my Ears, Temples,

UnderArms, in my Dreams, Yet, it is not Really There

Which disturbs me. Let me Go Let me go

Madness, stop following Me.

[Emo Fever is not Obsession, it is  not

Literature, it is autoture.  It’s my Autism,

or Neurological Blizzard…I won’t hurt you.

I’m not Crazy, Insane, or Retarded…But what

if I were?  Who'd you wear anOther Cap?]
Are you speaking of Hats with multiple Features?