Suffering People

A Sonnet

Now I shall not suffer fools to live
drinking my tears to avoid their own guilt
smoke lotus leaves that cause wither and wilt
but with no coming forth that these words give.
Now my familiar is your old black cat,
asks, “wouldst thou like to live deliciously?”
Burried in shit with sweet felicity,
stick to facts, what the t’cha says is whack.
Now cultural marks sex hail James Lindsey
across New France Lafayette battle plain 
that forgot the score of the football game,
homeward bound, but alas no wine dark sea,
	just like the covenant of Noah’s dove
	we can’t help loving who we fall in love.