I haven't wrote any freestyle sonnets lately, much less wove a stack of them into a heroic crown of sonnets... so I guess that's what I'm doing now.
Planet rock mentality born from outer space
dust, encrusted into bedazzled human booming
from birth across surface of Earth. Twice dimpled face
full of simple grace grew without proper grooming...
That wild back road blackberry bush beard that's bearing
fruit a bit looney, howling at full moons up high
while scowling at authority down low. Hearing
what I want, and always nearing the edge as I
flat foot like a fool staring up at the sky, eye's
big and truthful. But now that the beard's long gone grey
and not youthful, it takes a slow minute to rise.
Though energy wanes, my spirit waxes its way
into prime squared since I'm already past my prime;
can't be bothered to be stopped by concepts of time.
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