Pop Sonnet #1270

Disregard reflection in an hour or two
Takes a holy minute to play out the clock
Wonder if devotion in a week saves few
Or if there is a dream world at the dock

Of the river that controls the merry tides
Been gone so long I don't remember
Whatever to whom you know that I confide
Press one right now for December

So you can get the logic that will stir you back
Towards the phantom in the dust
Makes to watch a floating number head to rack
Up against the stir that you really must

So chip off the edges for the certainty
And configure all the progress for the tea

Pop Sonnet #1271

Time to change the saucer
I've felt oh rules
Coming into longing crosser
For the take of mules

That cross a lift designer
In the aptitude best
For what could help refine her
In a mood to test

That slippery horizon where the feeling shares
A different type of crony in the drop
And make for certain that there is a self-aware
Probably didn't have to make a flop

But the audience comes and goes as they please
And if I could I'd make them freeze

Pop Sonnet #1272

Knock for what invents the aroma into range
Cannot read a box of magic cards
That disappear into the numbers that can change
Sometimes I get the feeling that it is hard

To work with over figures that stay straight
Confident in numbers all the way
But to register that which takes the fate
Back to pleasant dreams of a play

That goes on without intermission for quite awhile
You could even say it is stuck in act one
I know the feeling to go out for the style
An ending up coming back undone

What the act is planning is a section or two
That when they do announce it will come back to you

Pop Sonnet #1273

An active file of motion in the empty dawn
Makes for active when the files in
And to take a ride to only turn it on
For the sake of where you haven't been

Once in awhile slept along the windy road
That spot of winding wind along the dust
Maybe makes for tunes that bring back a load
To ripen escape progress for the trust

That hopes back coursing take along
Whatever road is there to break
The pressure when writing a song
Or the wait time for a steak

And in the blissful answer there is a holy writ
So don't just try to get what you can't get

Pop Sonnet #1274

Catch a temperature range in this musty air
To blow off all the tracks that you invite
And taking after journeys that wait for the stare
Prophetic encounters that will bite

All is done for purposes to change a ways
Of stirring candor phasing in the brain
That sits before the meddle of the normal days
To bump a fellow next to you on the train

And ask another person that will take a moment out
To play back what is all recorded now
And invites just the one to take the cubic route
And isolate the figure to know how

And moving around pictures to match the other ones
Is still quite memorable as being kind of fun

Pop Sonnet #1275

Follow me down the trail to the post
That marks the half way point of the journey
When the breaks hit the dust on the coast
There is a far more fated learning

About what words work and then not
All the time when the verse is composed
Please tell me one more time what I forgot
And over what feelings you have dozed

Off in the share of the laughing time creek
For the excitement that follows
Back again for more laughs all next week
And feeling a bit distant for the hollows

That ground that takes the ringer out of the decay
And simples back to take a mode at the first say

Pop Sonnet #1276

Ask you later simply what you could have meant
Outside of reasoning with the noises
That seemed to pop out of thoughts that sent
Other thoughts to death to make the voices

And again we have a case of an inexact fit
Which never seems to stop in the syntax
And ask me later where to place it
In the back next to the tree where there is an axe

That leans against the fence
Know it when you see the thing
Down by the lack of evidence
Dancing joyfully we bring

And the evidence of others fills back up
The reticence of applications in the cup

Pop Sonnet #1277

And when I say a cup I mean a race
For different understandings that record
A time it takes to make it into first place
And forget all of that which is ignored

To reapply the distance in the time it takes to fly
And rerecord the action to forget about the turn
That comes fading into corners upon the sigh
Of the street that reappears after you burn

And when you have to burn it slow
It lasts longer in a pipe
That feeling that you come below
To take the last of ripe

And knowledge when it is extra still may have value
To cling onto the edges of all that is true

Pop Sonnet #1278

How active are the figures and rely on them
For the single most important way to climb
And maybe it is Gold or some kind of a gem
That slowly pays your way back to the time

That was in front of you for a taken glance
The soul could chase a fellow up a tree
And always taking notice in the perfect dance
To ask you to invite more company

And then to fall back on that which makes a mood
About a darting figure in the night
That once was where the headstone stood
But it changes during the holy rite

According to decisions made by the priest
I wouldn't mind helping even in the least

Pop Sonnet #1279

How dizzy are you knowing the whole world spins
To stop it would destroy us all
But when it spins it makes more grins
To be a ride like up against the wall

You know when going around and around
Kind of makes you stick to the ground
And doesn't really make much of a sound
It is just a science lesson that I now have found

The only difference of the way the world is turning
Is absolutely checking out the different learning
That is always on the surface burning
But is so slow it rarely leaves a churning

Sensation among the distance back to common ground
To be back amongst the people is for now unbound