Pop Sonnet #880

Long dream, long trip, across the dawn
That makes for dire air flight
No matter how long you are gone
Without feeling the night

Piercing in with strength
And unveiling the pattern here
No matter how long the length
For indefensible leer

A moment to pause and search
For the time that waking down
May as well spend time in church
When projects come to town

And whisper the Havana seed
Proper thinking in the need

Pop Sonnet #881

Hope that the music plays
When time does run out
And then I will enter the maze
Of Ariadne was it about

That time to return a battery plug
Borrowed from the one
Place that I could ride the rug
And finish for the sun

That tricky bed time plan
To make more movies soon
And just hope there's no simple fan
That wears a body out by noon

The whole floor plan and nothing less
Unless we have to clean our mess

Pop Sonnet #882

The last thing that you should expect
Is a furnished thinking chime of dim
Making progress for the wrecked
Dust was on a whim

That fantastic separation of the course
Throw it back to silver matron dame
And ride the bridled horse
Then turn it into a game

Without anyone knowing
Where your operation failed
Because you can walk and rowing
Upstream is what is trailed

Behind and in front, the long walk
Exercise is vital, less you need to chalk

Pop Sonnet #883

One up for discover season
That gain of mice that throws back
Heavy game the pleasing
And flight the plan to an own lack

Which gears the material phase
That lackluster problem wild
The very next of ways
That served up the mild

Without a presence met
The normal feeling set
And properly a vet
Without the blood to let

That game that danger ties
And costs a bit more with fries

Pop Sonnet #884

At least the memory is fading into golden bowls
The proper of the dimming free is here
And now the pattern turns back to icy fingered skulls
That damage to the impetus in gear

That one thing forgotten is all it takes to freeze
Manic for the level back upon the copter please
And make sure to take a bite out of the hunk of cheese
No one should even brag about what is greater than these

At least once in awhile the pile grows so huge
And dread the ultimatum that you want to follow
And spin around and drop down the great deluge
So matter mind master plan to bring the companion swallow

That feeling that speeds up the rest
Without a brand new treasure chest

Pop Sonnet #885

I'm still flying across the beams
Makes you plan for what it seems
Never mind the kind of dreams
That always starts to make for gleams

The coffee calls but you should wait
About an hour or two or more
At least there's scrambled time to plate
The food that gains the core

Of reason frolicking
To a memory of wines
That recipe of rollicking
Across the twisted vines

And courage taken sympathy down
Feeling like I am around

Pop Sonnet #886

Getting there was never that simple
Surely life has more in store
That feeling upon the answer temple
To remind you all of the lore

That promised to engage an answer
For the memory proper gained
The thought that you are a Necromancer
Scares even the right brained

Who don't believe in manic power
That curvature strikes a glance
Stay here for at least an hour
And save up time for the old romance

That tower of confusion that swept away
And eternal gaze of frequent stay

Pop Sonnet #887

One more time we'll try it out
Lest company complain
Of the time we wore you route
Apology is slain

And waiting until it is time to go
Works when there's a schedule
Feeling everything back flow
Empty when the lack is rule

The way to forgive is to be
In a state of bliss you see
Company is company
No matter when the lee

Breaks itself from problems healed
And leads to dreamland in the guild

Pop Sonnet #888

Okay it is lucky to have a match
Or a lighter in your pocket
But the numbers win the catch
Like an eternal rocket

For lack of a better dream
I had better ante up
Whatever the case is seem
To like the prince of sup

That time we take to lie upon
The open deserted snake
To cast a feeling of the gone
And make no more mistake

About the numbers that all the same
Pouring the days of what is in the frame

Pop Sonnet #889

Last chance to get off the substance
That makes me quite abnormal
But I am already the decadence
Of what makes it formal

Approach the candor even out
And precipice the certainty
Of logic in dark doubt
That returns majestically

The certain feel of a ditch
Comfort head in hospital bed
Spend time healing poor and rich
Alike when sickness thread

Streaks through either or the hour it is here
Never wanted to be able to see less clear