SONNET DARE: In Which I Attempt To Make Sense Of The Senseless

Has madness, static and dynamic, been
So well combined as here, where Mr. Chess
Did thespianate as was lately seen
By Laroquod? I find I can but guess.
"Rail, genius," quoth he, upon his sign,
"Twelve beauty natural blonde girls' members stars --
An opportunity with them is thine!"
(I paraphrase a bit). Is he from Mars?
Or hath he the mere form of one who's come
From there, this actor dancer? It may be
That only Paul can know, who witnessed some
Of this performance, to whate'er degree
A subway ride afforded. One thing's sure:
'Twas fascinating for him to endure.

Sonnet Dare: In Which I Summarize Some Follow Fridays

Cruel Nikki dares me rattle off by name
Those Twitter folk I've called as stalkable.
Al Bruno, Oliveri, Cullen - blame
Her that you're abused here. The lovable
Dear BardoRobot, BlazingBetta and
Ms. Jennybeans and Melzer, Ron McD
And Christian Wiehs, Stephan Spiegel, oh man!
O Jason Copland, Tee Monster... let's see...
My Bonfire rescued me from a migraine
(Or at least staved it off). My Lisbeth West
And Oliver T. Earle both make it plain
This world's a wonder. I can't choose the best,
From 'mongst my Twitter friends, mostly eschew
This Follow Friday thing. How about you?

BONUS BONUS SONNET: Sonnet Dare: David Bowie's "Queen Bitch"

From the eleventh floor my envy burns
As I watch that rare queen ply all her arts
To snare one that my shallow weakness spurns
To go after myself. She's broken hearts
A-plenty before now; tonight it's mine
Though it is not her that I want, but him.
Just watch her go in satin tat so fine
And bipp'ry-bopp'ry topper with a brim
I'd laugh at were I not at heart so sick -
I'm sure I could exceed her in her deeds
Of conquest were I to make e'en a lick
Of effort just to plant down there the seeds
Of lust for me instead of her? But no
I hang back longingly and watch her go.

BONUS SONNET: SONNET DARE: Killing Me Kindly

Keep coming with the sonnet dares, my friends,
Like kooky Stephan Spiegel's done, in spades.
He knows I like a challenge, one that bends
My ingenuity and kills time. Shades
Of kings of old and court poets now haunt
My ken as I discharge this commission:
Its key is using "k" words on this jaunt
Through sonnet-land in each line. Kids, I've gone
Right out to lunch with this one. Karma claims
He owes me extra big for this big killer dare.
Take up the ukelele? Let the names
Of all his children be my pick? What's fair?
For now I'll blow a kiss his silly way
In thanks for what has surely made my day.

In Which I Celebrate An Instrument And Drop A Subtle Hint

Just yesterday I overdid my ride
Home from my job, on my own dear Deep Blue,
Despite the cold wet drizzle that sure tried
To get me down. But I just sailed on through
An extra five or six miles, rocking out
To Beau Jocque and to ol' C.J. Chenier
And Beausoleil! An iPod that's without
Accordion is one devoid of cheer,
I say, and I know one who'd quite agree:
Stephan Spiegel, my fav'rite troubadour
On squeezebox and on mandolin though we
Have yet to hear him play. I do wait for
A Ustream concert soon. What do you say,
My sweet Stephan? It sure would make my day!