We Have To Quit Meeting Like This, We Have To Quit Meeting, We Have To Quit

We're just here once, and, really, it has been
So long already since we two were born.
We've wasted time; it really feels like sin
To waste much more. We two, though, sad and worn,
Still fail. I flail, between our meetings, and
Forget you. Watch me now: I cry, I spit;
"Act like you give a shit," is my demand
Whene'er your arms come 'round me, as though it,
That one embrace, makes up for months, as though
You have the right to tell me "Come on back,
Drop ev'rything, do what I want." I know,
It's only me, old friend, who feels the lack
Of thought behind it, and who feels the pain.
Sunk costs are paid. What now is left to gain?

Sonnet Dare: In Which Glompings Are Passionate And Hath Consequences

He drew her to him tightly, in a crush
And Lady Michchievous was most aware
Of how he felt about her. With a blush
She pulled away, but could not meet his stare.
Such glomping as he'd given her had caused
Such stirrings in her as she'd ne'er admit
To ever having had. "Sirrah!" -- she paused
Then, ere berating him, for truly it
Had not been so unpleasant, and her eyes
Cast downwards, modestly, saw what she'd felt
Saluting her -- "You think me some cheap prize?"
She stammered, but kept looking at his belt.
"Oh glomp me once again, you monster! Yes
Like that. No, to the left a bit, I guess."

Sonnet Dare: In Which @iamhewhoisiam Demands A Hearteater

I've eaten hearts for lunch and dinner; game
Meat is a pleasure, healthy, tasty, fine,
(Far better than some other meals I'd name)
Pan-roasted, served with veggies and some wine.
But that's too literal, I'm sure, for what
Rich Leslie dared me write today, and so,
Though I am sure that he's expecting smut
(This is a fam'ly sonnet blog) I'll show
That my own heart, that metaphoric seat
Of tenderness, has felt the prick of forks
(Though I find no one's out to taste this meat;
I serve it to myself when Love disports
Himself with me and mine). And so, you see,
Nobody ever eats my heart but me.

In Which Steven T. Seagle & Marco Cinello's SOUL KISS Gives Me A Fat Lip

Whoever said "you hurt the ones you love

Must never have hurt someone they despised,"

So says our heroine, standing above

A slimeball of a boss she's pulverised

And sent to hell as part of her new deal

With Mephistopholes in Soul Kiss, now

In hardcover. The story packs a real

And raw punch, leaves a fat lip, telling how

Miss Lilli, rescued from an awful fate

Must pay an awful price. Cinello's drawn

A hot tomato, acting out of hate

But also out of love, which seems forgeone

As such conclusions go, till Seagle's twist

Makes this book something that must not be missed.

BONUS SONNET: Epic Party Fail, Yet We Saved It

I started out my Friday eve'ning with

High hopes that summer of '09 would start

With one great smashing party, but a pith

To my poor fragile ego and my heart

Occurred on my arrival. Look! My ex,

For whom I real'ize I still bear a torch

Is here with his young wife! Oh so complex

Is my reaction. I hide on the porch,

E'en ere the rain and hail starts to occur.

I break, too, my resolve now to abstain

From liquor. Oh, it's fine; I have met her

And seen him before now. Yet there is pain.

But weather drove the sissies home to hide

And I stayed with my good friends. I abide!