Poem | |
Hotwired the orgasmatron
headed out on sixty-nine
know there’s nothin up ahead
and even less behind.
nothing seems to work
maybe just I’m gettin old
maybe just a jerk
off that is
can’t ya take a joke?
Lost in smoke
years since last toke
days since last drink
As ya'll can see
rhyme don't agree
so back to blank
and the cheque's
Iambic to the core
such a bore.
Straight from the soul
or is that hole,
supposed to be
have to go
Poem | |
Oh an ode to jenni mann
To write an ode, oh an ode to jenni mann
Would be good, and proper.
Fitting, not like the clothes your distant aunty gets you.
They never fit.
Unlike writing an ode, oh an ode to jenni mann.
When the plutonian shores of my heart wash asunder my sadness and heart-ache at your loss
I shall endeavour to beware the boars who gnash without remorse- they do make me cross
Their eyes filled with the darkness of the Forest of Dean
But who is the Dean? The Dean of a University? A cathedral perhaps?
Or is his name simply Dean Fitting?
We had weed cakes.
The amnesia induced seizure did not please ya
Nor did it ease ya into loving me
Perhaps if I had sherbet it'd be different.
Sherbet? or Sherbert? I'm not a gambling man
I shouldn't have left you in your seizure jenni, i shouldn't have left you
Now you're dead.
And there's no amount of sherbe(r)t in the world that can bring you back to my nest of sexual decadence
My quagmire of lust is brown and hollow - like an easter egg, only there is no joy here jenni.
There is no fun to be had without you, all I can now do is reminisce of sherbe(r)t, boars, seizures and ill-fitting clothes
I am stuck in a perpetual state of limbo, I failed to beware the burn, I am in an ever self-sustaining maelstrom of torment and sexual grief
I am no longer,
Poem | |
See, see the splurptious sky
Marvel at its big Mauve depths.
Tell me, dingle, do you
Wonder why the Aardvark ignores you?
Why its foobly stare
makes you feel Crappy.
I can tell you, it is
Worried by your crumbobulous facial growth
That looks like
A Rotten fish.
What's more, it knows
Your flarpgurgle potting shed
Smells of a ball of snot.
Everything under the big splurptious sky
Asks why, why do you even bother?
You only charm aliens?