Sunday, March 7, 2010

ReBackPedaling

ReBackPedaling
poem
Doth the maker feel the snow the wet the rain the cold? Or doth he only make a paroday for thee? A CharlaXWilliamSOnnett ReBackPedaling Doth the maker feel the snow the wet the rain the cold? Or doth he only make a paroday for thee? Perhappenstance he doth them both a little moreth then he liketh. A CharlaXWilliamSOnnett Sonnet 94 They that have power to hurt, as like unto the Gods and will do none They that have power to hurt and will do none are like the Gods, That do not do the thing they most do shower down the rain the wind the sun the snow upon us all as seeing that they do this monumental land fall,Who, moving others, are themselves as stone, edificied above the clouds in sky Unmoved, cold, and to temptation slow, as ice they impart no love to one another in the heavens They rightly do inherit heaven's graces from the dead they rise And husband nature's riches from expense not out of pocket or the fence; They are the lords and owners of one anothers faces, indeed they all look like there Jesus Others but minions of their excellences. The summer's flower is to the summer sweat and toil in haywired poultry found asleep, Though to itself it only live and die is cast in teeth, But if that flower with base infection meet the owner who is God the Fatherer , The basest weed outbraves his dignity: indeed he bes the beast that he can be For sweetest things turn sourest by their deeds; iff thou canst but believe me try the sweet and sour pork rinds near the door Lilies that fester smell far worse than weeds. Doth GOD feel the rain the answers no. Sonnet 94 They that have power to hurt, and will do none They that have power to hurt and will do none, are also Godlike being less then stupid That do not do the thing they most do shower nothing like the fires of EgYpt down on those who must deserve this fire and ice, Who, moving others, are themselves as stone, above is all so nicely taken up Unmoved, cold, and to temptation slow, there is no reasone to heat up seeing there is no seasons in the heavens They rightly do inherit heaven's graces from the resurrections facing thus eternity And husband nature's riches from expenses incurred from using wrongfully the liberty; They are the lords and owners of their various faces, Others but stewards of the minions fair to middeling there. The summer's flower is to the summer sweet as hay baled wet, Though to itself it only live and die is hard aluminum like cans, But if that flower with base infection meet the fan, The basest weed outbraves his dignity: forsooth the beast in paroday For sweetest things turn sourest by their deeds; left over things turn rancid in the seeds Lilies that fester smell far worse than weeds. Doth GOD who made the rain feel wet the answers non.

Charlock7Android1

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