Alexandrian Sonnet 13 Poem by Alexandrian Ink

What our tongue has, I do not care,
But what comes out of it, dreads me
And importunate my with great fear
Lest the mighty sun (tongue) dries the mighty sea.
Thatwomen have talking machine
It's their nature for which they were begot;
If it's their protective adaptation; fine,
But that men compete with parrot
Venturing for puff and blow to rant and rave.
How can a man be sentenced to prison or death
Cos of that which is grievous as the grave
Came out of his masculate mouth?
The tongue kills whosoever that don't control the effeminate tongue
And that wanton one will always do and frequently alter the wrong.