By 12
By 12 I was
fully grown. My height was
the envy of
the short arses in
my classes. I wasn’t a
porker like
some ... I was
spared fat jokes. My level of
pituitary activity was, well,
excellent. Hormone increases were
too. Ejaculated more than
most. My secondary sex characteristics gave me
some respect. I was the first in
my class to
break their
voice. My thin mo caused awe in
the hairless. Deductive reasoning was
special. My systematic problem finding the answers to
things had triple the
different possibilities thought about, mulled, prior to
the answers being chosen. I was the king of
abstract thoughts, and that
riddled others with
confusion and
anger. It was easier for me to
manipulate abstract concepts than
concrete ones. Hours on
end I’d get lost in
idealistic contemplation of
hypotheticals until I was
clapped out
of it. I spent a lot of
time lost in
identity formation. I soaked in
everything. Long-term memory
ached. I praised daily the
elaboration added to
encoding strategies. I avoided happily interactions with
most. Opposite-peers I avoided
happily. I was
undateable.
Categories:
arses, humor,
Form: Free verse
What if, we are all being lied to
What if, all the facts are untrue
What if, they just want to control you
What, if it's true, do you do?
What if, when we had the plandemic
What if, it was planned from day one
What if, the brand new vaccination
What if, it was already done
What if, with the weather still warming
What if, all the figures are fake
What if, though we are getting warmer
What if, we are not going to bake
What if, when the temperature rises
What if, it does not create hell
What if, it's just wholely delightful
What if, we end up doing well
What if, all the so called solutions
What if, they just make matters worse
What if, they are not our lifesavers
What if, they are more of a curse
What if, all the movers and shakers
What if, they are pulled from their towers
What if, we just kick all their arses
What if, we remove all their powers
Categories:
arses, anxiety, corruption, freedom, how
Form: Rhyme
At Austerlitz I two nations vanquished;
making me historically distinguished.
At Marengo I had Austria subdued;
then I was to honour undoubtedly glued.
At the Pyramids, Mamluks kissed the sands;
then like a French Pharaoh I annexed their lands.
At Jena-Auerstadt, Prussia to her knees fell,
to avoid carnage, and possibly hell.
At Borodino, Kutuzov my boots licked,
as his Russian forces had their arses kicked.
At Ligny, Blucher like a coward fled,
as his smitten forces profusely bled.
At Toulon I first distinguished myself
for a career that would exalt oneself.
Rolica, Leipzig, Waterloo like curses came,
but history will forever my triumphs reclaim.
Categories:
arses, hero, history, military,
Form: Rhyme
This is the 21st Century
Where it seems the masses
Are still placed on this Earth
To serve the upper classes,
Feed their acquisitive appetites
Wipe their delicate arses,
And all in all perpetuate
That longest of running farces,
Respect for so called betters,
Eating crumbs from their table
Serving with dedication
For as long as they are able
Until comes that day
They can no longer try
Then have the decency
To just crawl off and die.
Its the same the world over
Every where you can go
The system is dedicated
To maintain the status quo
Is god still in his heaven?
Will we all get an entry pass
So we can continue serving
That heavenly upper class.
Categories:
arses, anger, class, culture, irony,
Form: Rhyme
The Big Boss
My manager is a locust brain
He doesn’t know what he’s doing
My manager is a locust brain
The job is kaos when he’s in charge here
My manager is a locust brain
Production takes a dip under him
My manager is a locust brain
He got the job by kissing arses
My manager is a locust brain
The supervisor is much more skilled
My manager is a locust brain
I ignore him due to his utter ineptitude
My manager is a locust brain
Even the toilet cleaner hates him!
My manager is a locust brain
Because he can’t read or write
My manager is a locust brain
Due to his lack of experience and nonce
My manager is a locust brain
Simply because he’s my manager
My manager is a locust brain
And we’re gonna set him on fire!
My manager is a locust brain
Is my manager no longer cos he’s dead!
Categories:
arses, satire, silly, work,
Form: Verse
~POINT THE FINGER AT YOUR CHEST~
What have you done lately,
For your community?
Have you gone out and helped the poor?
Or are you, just a selfish, vain boor?
You want a change in your nation?
It's up to you to make a difference, not be
simply, "a mouth sensation!"
We should rally great citizen troops.
I am tried of blaming political nincompoops.
Don't worry, I do write poems about leaders, many!
But who responds to political spoofs?
Very, rare courageous few, if any.
We all, our arses we want cowardly covered.
So political poets, like me, get on a hit
list and are smothered!
But I don't care, but don't you see?
When you smother me, you smother thee?
So phenomenal is this inane drive to be popular here.
All poetical love, like useless junk in a car, slammed into
the rear!
9/7/2021
Categories:
arses, encouraging, perspective, poets,
Form: Rhyme
Yes, we can all do things so dumb,
Then laugh and turn into fun,
Like sitting on our glasses,
With our elderly fat arses,
Making calls on the TV remote,
Try using the phone! Don't gloat,
You'll all do bloopers too,
Aging disgracefully, me and you!
Categories:
arses, giggle, grandfather, old,
Form: Free verse
Fifty years ago this July
Three American astronauts put the lie to 'Why'
On the surface of the Moon they made a pinpoint landing
Primitive technological devices notwithstanding
We thought the era of space exploration had started
But after only six more missions, the Moon we departed
For 47 years now we haven't been back
It is raw courage, or determination, that we lack?
Sad to say, it's a fundamental distortion of human vision
No longer do we look outside ourselves for challenges to meet and surpass
We've become self-absorbed narcissists, content to sit on our arses
This diminution of our vision comes at a steep price
When the going gets rough, be it at home or abroad
Our instinct is to give up, not to make sacrifices
Categories:
arses, courage, moon, space, today,
Form: Rhyme
sitting here like a moron in an old people's home,
they think i dont know where they've put me and my phone.
silly arses are searching my home for any hidden money .....you see
they won't find a blessed thing...they think I am off my trolley
have arranged a super funeral black horses the lot
paid for a large headstone on a large plot
have ordered a banquet for the elderly of the town
they're not invited they can stay home
money grabbing family you've had your last penny
given to the dogs home and the donkey appeal "Jenny"
picked up my ringing phone ....irate voices I hear
where is it hidden? is it hidden here?
I smile to myself ...today is my last
am ready now ... please Peter..haul me up fast
Penned 27 August 2016
Categories:
arses, humor,
Form: Couplet
Junior school
Years gone by and we are all still fools
For the silly things we laughed at school
Farting and burping and breaking the rules
Making large bubble gum circles whilst swimming in the local pool
Playing tennis in the summer because Wimbledon was cool
Weekends on muddy pitches pitting your wits to tackle and duel
Flirting glances at girls although not knowing how it was cruel
Teachers bursting veins in their heads shouting to try and teach monkeys who scratch their arses and play E.T with their cagoules
Making grass bunkers in the summer with mates and a girl would show you her white knickers for some toffees and a daisy chain to amaze at and to drool
Remembering the children’s faces and the world we left behind to know that we had better times when we were all still fools.
Categories:
arses, middle school,
Form: I do not know?
Generations of warmongers spew their lies
outward into the waiting abyss of greed
as the adult throng of drones
buzz the factories and the farmlands,
carpenter ants wasting the bounty of mother earth.
And we ..children of the flower children screamed
“Hell NO we won’t go!”
We burnt draft cards and bra’s
freed from the tit by the acid dreams of Leary
we rose, ran, flew, with flags on our arses.
On campus’s we marched
bandana’ed brethren, fuzz busters
picket carrying freedom fighters, a blaze
with a hatred for everything and every one
establishment…
and the establishment killed.
Killed its own children
at Kent State and got away with it.
As napalm dropped over naked children
in Vietnam, the Dawning of the Age of Aquarius
rang from the rafters of Broadway.
Naked as the day we were born
coated in the honest to God mud of
a farmer’s field in Woodstock, we danced.
And we still marvel that Nero fiddled
while Rome burned.
Where are our children now?
Still fighting ..still drones, still bombing
Still ‘liberating’ the oil fields around the world.
Still raping mother earth.
And the beat drones on…………..
Categories:
arses, history, children, mother,
Form: Free verse
Black spot on roses and fingerless mittens
Green stinging nettles and flea ridden kittens
All creepy crawlies and insects with wings
These are a few of my un-favourite things
When my back aches
When my head spins
When I’m fighting mad
I just remember my un-favourite things,
And then I feel twice as bad.
Girls in tight trousers too small for their arses
People pretending that they don’t wear glasses
Long bitter winters and damp dismal springs
These are a few of my un-favourite things
When my back aches
When my head spins
When I’m fighting mad
I just remember my un-favourite things,
And then I feel twice as bad.
People who talk while I’m watching the telly
Women who show off too much of their bellies
Anyone who whistles and tunelessly sings
These are a few of my un-favorite things
When my back aches
When my head spins
When I’m fighting mad
I just remember my un-favourite things,
And then I feel twice as bad.
Categories:
arses, song-lyric
Form: I do not know?
She smiled at me and asked me
“Can you spare some time
We’d like your true opinion
On criminals, and crime”
She asked me lots of questions
About the criminal classes
I told her what I thought
And how I’d kick their arses
I told her that I reckoned
These people were a curse
Then when she wasn’t looking
I ran off with her purse
© John W Fenn 03-01-2009
Categories:
arses, funnyme,
Form: Light Verse