These words will make you want to shit your pants.

Excuse my French but I cook you some wit.

Such words compel you to jump up and dance.

You might as well just throw a goddamn fit.

Here sonnet channels bits from devas fine.

The cosmos is but ones and nones and strings.

The orchestrated harmony’s divine.

Things are just forms and forms are all just things.

So feel the soil brewing from underneath.

Feel Water, Air, and Fire but all the same.

Remember that you’ll have to cut your teeth.

Your fangs will help you win this blissful game.

Now go and change your wasted underpants.

So let the flow of verbage know decant.