Sonnettics

How came we here, where olden sorrows rest?
Where flowers bloom on moors where Cathy runs
What life appears beyond our mortal test
Where simple light shines forth from simple suns

If no one knows the stories we’ve become
Are stories more or less than life’s remorse
Remorse to which the world may yet succumb
As such of which we testify, of course

Now turn to find the Pearl of priceless tales
The words such storied times and tides evince
Like subtle breezes grown to regal gales
As if the breath of God could make life wince

Our stories grow in verdant worlds like this
Now stay with me and share a friendsome kiss.

Lord Jesus, guard my ganja as I pray
For something next to sustenance with cream
Deluge the world; let dryness fade away
To Utah, or the valley of the dream

The dream contained within a subtle cough
The air we breathe begets what we exhale
Of course it does, and wipes the mucus off
Organic bars of some organic jail

Lord Jesus, guard the ganja in the box
On which you hang affixed by Roman nails
And super glue bequeathed by golden socks
The socks of gold where liquor never fails

To see the secret puffs and hits and drags
Beneath the lighters hidden in their bags.

Contrast with teaspoon.
The waves off the fork jostle the coffee in exact patterns that result in better coffee.

It’s here within the words I want to write
But ask me where and I will merely shrug
It hides from every soul who thinks they might
Uncover graves of words they never dug

I found you in the grass among the stones
I found you searching for a word to say
In language made of nothing more than tones
You stole the word that tried to get away

I found you like the dew discovers grass
And swore I’d wear the rhythm of your heart
Yet now that you and I have come to pass
I fear we must surrender to the Art

The Art portrays the story we’ll become
And gives the hidden joys of kingdoms come.