ReBackPedaling

 

 ReBackPedaling

 Doth the maker feel the snow the wet the rain the cold? Or doth he only make a paroday for thee? A CharlaXWilliamSOnnett
  ReBackPedaling

Doth the maker feel the snow the wet the rain the cold? Or doth he only make a paroday for thee? Perhappenstance he doth them both a little moreth then he liketh. A CharlaXWilliamSOnnett
 Sonnet 94 They that have power to hurt,

as like unto the Gods and will do none
They that have power to hurt and will do none are like the Gods,
That do not do the thing they most do shower down the rain

the wind the sun the snow upon us all as seeing that they do this monumental land fall,
Who, moving others, are themselves as stone,
edificied above the clouds in sky

Unmoved, cold, and to temptation slow, as ice they 

impart no love to one another in the heavens
They rightly do inherit heaven's graces from the dead they rise
And husband nature's riches from expense

not out of pocket or the fence;
They are the lords and owners of one anothers faces,

indeed they all look like there Jesus
Others but minions of their excellences.
The summer's flower is to the summer sweat

and toil in haywired poultry found asleep,
Though to itself it only live and die is cast in teeth,
But if that flower with base infection meet the owner who is God the Fatherer ,
The basest weed outbraves his dignity:

indeed he bes the beast that he can be
For sweetest things turn sourest by their deeds;
iff thou canst but believe me

try the sweet and sour pork rinds near the door

Lilies that fester smell far worse than weeds.

Doth GOD feel the rain the answers no.

Sonnet 94 They that have power to hurt, and will do none
They that have power to hurt and will do none,
are also Godlike being less then stupid

That do not do the thing they most do shower nothing

like the fires of EgYpt down on those who must deserve this fire and ice,
Who, moving others, are themselves as stone,

above is all so nicely taken up
Unmoved, cold, and to temptation slow, there is no reasone to heat up

seeing there is no seasons in the heavens
They rightly do inherit heaven's graces

 from the resurrections facing thus eternity
And husband nature's riches from expenses incurred

from using wrongfully the liberty;
They are the lords and owners of their various faces,
Others but stewards of the minions fair to middeling there.
The summer's flower is to the summer

sweet as hay baled wet,
Though to itself it only live and die is hard aluminum like cans,
But if that flower with base infection meet the fan,
The basest weed outbraves his dignity:

forsooth the beast in paroday
For sweetest things turn sourest by their deeds;

left over things turn rancid in the seeds
Lilies that fester smell far worse than weeds.

 Doth GOD who made the rain feel wet the answers non.