Best Famous Pubic Poems

Here is a collection of the all-time best famous Pubic poems. This is a select list of the best famous Pubic poetry. Reading, writing, and enjoying famous Pubic poetry (as well as classical and contemporary poems) is a great past time. These top poems are the best examples of pubic poems.

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• All Famous Pubic Poems

Written by Maggie Estep | Bad Day At The Beauty Salon I was a 20 year old unemployed receptionist with dyed orange dreadlocks sprouting out of my skull. I needed a job, but first, I needed a haircut. So I head for this beauty salon on Avenue B. I'm gonna get a hairdo. I'm gonna look just like those hot Spanish haircut models, become brown and bodacious, grow some 7 inch fingernails painted ***** red and rake them down the chalkboard of the job market's soul. So I go in the beauty salon. This beautiful Puerto Rican girl in tight white spandex and a push-up bra sits me down and starts chopping my hair: "Girlfriend," she says, "what the hell you got growing outta your head there, what is that, hair implants? Yuck, you want me to touch that ****, whadya got in there, sandwiches?" I just go: "I'm sorry." She starts snipping my carefully cultivated Johnny Lydon post-Pistols hairdo. My foul little dreadlocks are flying around all over the place but I'm not looking in the mirror cause I just don't want to know. "So what's your name anyway?" My stylist demands then. "Uh, Maggie." "Maggie? Well, that's an okay name, but my name is Suzy." "Yeah, so?" "Yeah so it ain't just Suzy S.U.Z.Y, I spell it S.U.Z.E.E, the extra "e" is for extra Suzee." I nod emphatically. Suzee tells me when she's not busy chopping hair, she works as an exotic dancer at night to support her boyfriend named Rocco. Suzee loves Rocco, she loves him so much she's got her eyes closed as she describes him: "6 foot 2, 193 pounds and, girlfriend, his arms so big and long they wrap around me twice like I'm a little Suzee sandwich." Little Suzee Sandwich is rapt, she blindly snips and clips at my poor punk head. She snips and clips and snips and clips, she pauses, I look in the mirror: "Holy ****, I'm bald." "Holy ****, baby, you're bald." Suzee says, finally opening her eyes and then gasping. All I've got left is little post-nuke clumps of orange fuzz. And I'll never get a receptionist job now. But Suzy waves her manicured finger in my face: "Don't you worry, baby, I'm gonna get you a job at the dancing club." "What?" "Baby, let me tell you, the boys are gonna like a bald go go dancer." That said, she whips out some clippers, shaves my head smooth and insists I'm gonna love getting naked for a living. None of this sounds like my idea of a good time, but I'm broke and I'm bald so I go home and get my best panties. Suzee lends me some 6 inch pumps, paints my lips bright red, and gives me 7 shots of Jack Daniels to relax me. 8pm that night I take the stage. I'm bald, I'm drunk, and by god, I'm naked. HOLY **** I'M NAKED IN A ROOM FULL OF STRANGERS THIS IS NOT ONE OF THOSE RECURRING NIGHTMARES WE ALL HAVE ABOUT BEING BUTT NAKED IN PUBLIC, I AM NAKED, I DON'T KNOW THESE PEOPLE, THIS REALLY SUCKS. A few guys feel sorry for me and risk getting their hands bitten off by sticking dollars in my garter belt. My disheveled pubic hairs stand at full attention, ready to poke the guys' eyes out if they get too close. Then I notice this bald guy in the audience, I've got a new empathy for bald people, I figure maybe it works both ways, maybe this guy will stick 10 bucks in my garter. I saunter over. I'm teetering around unrhythmically, I'm the surliest, unsexiest dancer that ever go-go across this hemisphere. The bald guy looks down into his beer, he'd much rather look at that than at my pubic mound which has now formed into one vicious spike so it looks like I've got a unicorn in my crotch. I stand there weaving through the air. The strobe light is illuminating my pubic unicorn. Madonna's song Borderline is pumping through the club's speaker system for the 5th time tonight: "BORDERLINE BORDERLINE BORDERLINE/LOVE ME TIL I JUST CAN'T SEE." And suddenly, I start to wonder: What does that mean anyway? "LOVE ME TIL I JUST CAN'T SEE" What? Screw me so much my eyes pop out, I go blind, end up walking down 2nd Avenue crazy, horny, naked and blind? What? There's a glitch in the tape and it starts to skip. "Borderl...ooop.....Borderl....ooop...Borderlin.....ooop" I stumble and twist my ankle. My g-string rides between my buttcheeks making me twitch with pain. My head starts spinning, my knees wobble, I go down on all fours and puke all over the bald guy's lap. So there I am. Butt naked on all fours. But before I have time to regain my composure, the strip club manager comes over, points his smarmy strip club manager finger at me and goes: "You're bald, you're drunk, you can't dance and you're fired." I stand up. "Oh yeah, well you stink like a sneaker, pal." I peel off one of my pumps and throw it in the direction of his fat head then I get the hell out of there. A few days later I run into Suzee on Avenue A. Turns out she got fired for getting me a job there in the first place. But she was completely undaunted, she dragged me up to this wig store on 14th Street, bought me a mouse brown shag wig, then got us both telemarketing jobs on Wall Street. And I never went to a beauty salon again.

Written by Maggie Estep | Scab Maids On Speed My first job was when I was about 15. I had met a girl named Hope who became my best friend. Hope and I were flunking math class so we became speed freaks. This honed our algebra skills and we quickly became whiz kids. For about 5 minutes. Then, our brains started to fry and we were just teenage speed freaks. Then, we decided to to seek gainful employment. We got hired on as part time maids at the Holiday Inn while a maid strike was happening. We were scab maids on speed and we were coming to clean your room. We were subsequently fired for pilfering a Holiday Inn guest's quaalude stash which we did only because we never thought someone would have the nerve to call the front desk and say; THE MAIDS STOLE MY LUUDES MAN. But someone did - or so we surmised - because we were fired. I supppose maybe we were fired because we never actually CLEANED but rather just turned on the vacuum so it SOUNDED like we were cleaning as we picked the pubic hairs off the sheets and out of the tub then passed out on the bed and caught up on the sleep we'd missed from being up all night speeding. When we got fired, we became waitresses at an International House of Pancakes. We were much happier there.

Written by Les Murray | Inside Ayers Rock Inside Ayers Rock is lit with paired fluorescent lights on steel pillars supporting the ceiling of haze-blue marquee cloth high above the non-slip pavers. Curving around the cafeteria throughout vast inner space is a Milky way of plastic chairs in foursomes around tables all the way to the truck drivers' enclave. Dusted coolabah trees grow to the ceiling, TVs talk in gassy colours, and round the walls are Outback shop fronts: the Beehive Bookshop for brochures, Casual Clobber, the bottled Country Kitchen and the sheet-iron Dreamtime Experience that is turned off at night. A high bank of medal-ribbony lolly jars preside over island counters like opened crates, one labelled White Mugs, and covered with them. A two-dimensional policeman discourages shoplifting of gifts and near the entrance, where you pay for fuel, there stands a tribal man in rib-paint and pubic tassel. It is all gentle and kind. In beyond the children's playworld there are fossils, like crumpled old drawings of creatures in rock.

Written by Russell Edson | The Alfresco Moment A butler asks, will Madam be having her morning coffee alfresco? If you would be so good as to lift me out of my bed to the veranda I would be more than willing to imbibe coffee alfresco. Shall I ask the Master to join you for coffee alfresco, Madam? But my nightgown's so sheer he might see my pubic delta alfresco. And being a woman of wealth I have the loins of a goddess. While you, being but a servant, have the loins of a child's teddy bear. Yes, have the Master join the alfresco moment. He might just as well be informed of my pubic delta, it's not a state secret. Besides, because of his wealth he bears the organ of a bull, while you, being but a lowly servant, have the loins of a toy. Very good, Madam . . .

Written by Odysseus Elytis | From Body of Summer 1943 O body of summer, naked, burnt Eaten away by oil and salt Body of rock and shudder of the heart Great ruffling wind in the osier hair Breath of basil above the curly pubic mound Full of stars and pine needles Body, deep vessel of the day!