The Arrogance Of Love …. An Imperfect Sonnet
I will drink to the arrogant bastard.
I will drink to the cock who gets plastered.
And I would binge with the impudent few,
Who dine of the deli... and the sewer too.
For “where the bee sups there would I”,
Upon the velveteen down of a sigh,
Or upon a petal savory sweet,
Or there … on a rose bud, tucked in neat.
Yet we who know of nectars naughty,
And euphorias got of liquors haughty,
Must bleed as well the venereal thorns,
Or the poison stabs of a cuckolds horn.
Yet before these banes breed abstinence,
Let us drink deeper drafts of arrogance.