Sonnettics

If Grace could save my soul, I’d let her be
I like my soul and want it to endure
forever, and I want the world to see
if Grace can save my soul when it’s impure
I know the world is dirty; I don’t care
The hearts and eyes of filthiness can view
my soul’s salvation through the filthy air
when Grace is burning wood and garbage too
As smokey Grace is choking me, I seethe
I’m saved, but I can only walk and cough
I used to run; I used to freely breathe
Until I bedded Grace and felt her scoff
at everything I thought salvation meant
My money, like my time, was poorly spent.

Thanksgiving day is over and I’m full
of turkey, taters, stuffing, pumpkin pie
I’d hate to be the one who has to pull
my wagon with me in it, my oh my!
I like Thanksgiving, but it’s not the best
There is a day that’s better in the year
Thanksgiving is okay from east to west
and yet a better day is almost here!
The day is called Thanksgetting. Yeah! You bet!
I’ve heard some call it christmas; that sounds lame
Thanksgetting is the day that I can get
whatever toy I want, whatever game
Thanksgetting morning comes and I can see
my presents under my Thanksgetting tree!

Afraid of who I am, I try to hide
Afraid that I might find myself, I turn
to that which I’ve avoided, deep inside:
Emotions in my psyche, where I learn
that what I feel for others is a part
of where my brain is bruised, of where I go
to tell myself I really have a heart
although it hurts that I don’t really know
And so I feel a loss that makes me sad
It turns upon itself, consumes the bulk
of everything I feel I could have had
I cry; I rub my eyes, and then I sulk
I cannot hide my tears, they’re on display
regardless of the pain I wipe away.

I kiss the neck of Gwyneth, off the screen
and know my lips have found the middle place
My mouth descends to taste the flesh between
her breasts, then move above to kiss her face
Three kisses, Gwyneth, starting with your neck
are worth more than a story on a stage
If Shakespeare tried to write it, I would wreck
the Globe and every word on every page
I do not hate the Bard, but I can see
not even Shakespeare’s words are worth the kiss
on Gwyneth’s skin, like petals feel to me
when I imagine roses look like this:
Like Gwyneth in a dress that’s like a vase
which holds a beauty nothing can replace.

Dismiss me now; convenience says you must
Don’t let the neighbors know of how you love
a horny schoolboy, lost in passion’s lust
be cruel to me by accusations of
some indecisive sonnets; mock my verse
I don’t deserve you lover; I’m not whole
My body broke; my brain was broken worse
when I collided with a car, my goal
to please my Ali broke as well, it seems
I can’t believe you kissed my mouth again
Your kisses and your love devolved to dreams
My Love Forever must have missed you then
Forgive me Ali for the wrong I’ve done
I love you Ali, and I love our son.