Best Nasties Poems
Oh joy, oh joy, it's another fine day
Another day to keep the nasties at bay
Just laugh in their face
They don't have a place
Those dirty little buggars, chase 'em away
© Jack Ellison 2015
The world according to Jack is happy each day
A sunny disposition keeps the nasties away
My advice to all
Big or small
Act like some kiddies in an three act play
alternately titled: breast damned fallacy hi-jinxed!
In her “60 Minutes” interview aired
Sunday (March 26th, 2018),
the **** star known within red district
as Stormy Daniels bared
her "naked lady" version
swearing oath of honesty,
she emphatically dick cleared
on a stack of video nasties,
and x-rated 'zines
now she can live rest of life
guilt free offloading
hush money endeared
a posteriori into infinitely
jesting bordello loop
with calmly enchanting bug eyed,
drooling media hounds,
whose nostrils flared
squelching the trumpeting Don,
who maliciously glared
for traitorously breaching
“genital man's agreement”),
playing the (sock it to him role
of goody two shoes)
christened Stephanie Clifford)
shaggy long haired
pseudo Mayflower madam averred
to right justice in sought after
condom free nation,
where the turkey
ought tubby national bird
mandating free codicil
to second amendment as of furred
thus, that ass hide from right to bear arms
premature sea r man ejaculation
of Peter ought to be heard
where sudden sound
sans pubis seams burst
jock strapped unseen bulging Johnson's
onslaught hail of expletives cursed
out the mouth of salty sailor spewing Prez,
hook halled for a recess first
and foremost before
questioning resumed
automatically immersed
within tawdry tabloid pulp pit
whore sing Bacchanalian refused to quit
particularly when groin
set zipper (flimsy – obviously,
NOT put thru linkedin
locked down rigorous paces
realized, when pry vet eyelit
of trouser snake split)
yielding singular (nada so sterling)
gamut gallimaufry variegated erector set
with singular bulbous
ram rod rocket like trivet.
Sweating,
bench pressing,
ripping my chest..
Urgg,
the final stretch.
Whew,
she breezes by.
Crop dusting her
"love Spell Perfume".
WOW,
my eyes follow her across the room.
In dream-land,
I've lost focus,
under hypnosis,
now "tailing" that tail.
bent over,
tan thighs.
That apple bottom
caught my eye.
No surprise though,
I'm a booty kind of guy.
Those blue latex tights,
fit your hips so right.
I fight,
fight my growing urge.
Candy for my eyes,
such visual delight.
I can't focus on my work-out,
with that magnificent sight.
Sweet, caramel apple,
ample eye candy.
Erotic, mass provoking,
thoughts encourage Gym-Nasties...
**Concluding the Gym-Nasties collaboration started by Linda-Marie Bariana "Sweetheart"
Jared Pickett
12/17/09
Asavvy1
A short sighted old doctor called Charlie
Poured water from a bottle to make tea
But the taste wasn't right
Got one hell of a fright
On close inspection the bottle said pee...
He called the opticians to book a test
Rinsed his mouth out then headed home to rest
Now sets good examples
Marks clinical sample's
Storing all those nasties in a locked chest...
Now you don't want to end up like Charlie
By error drinking someone else's pee
Well it is human waste
You just wont like the taste
And you'll be sick as a dog, believe me...
Written February 7th 2020
Oh boy, oh joy, it's another fine day
Another day to keep the nasties at bay
Just laugh in their face
They don't have a place
Those dirty little buggers, chase 'em all away
© Jack Ellison 2015
Glaring white beaches and sand in the eyes,
Searing hot sun rays that make the skin fry,
Stings from the jellies and seagulls that screech:
These are some nasties you’ll find at the beach!
Snotty raw oysters and blistering skin,
Nothing but fried food; how can you stay thin?
Big Daddy, come get me, I beg, I beseech!
I’ve nothing but scorn and distaste for the beach!
Where the breeze blows,
Where the peach grows
Where there’s shade and trees,
I long for the mountains
Where I can be cool,
Just not at the beach,
Oh please!
----------
to the tune of "My Favorite Things"
from the musical "Sound of Music"
updated 03/12/2022
An open letter to chicks like thee,
You wait until you're nearly sixty-three,
You'll end up talking like me,
You'll sound like the Dead Grandmas Society,
Fine-thinking women, very snippy,
Got no time for nasties and rudies,
"What's this?" "What's for tea?"
"A plate of good manners from me!"
(And the Dead Grandmas Society!),
A fact of life, real scary,
When you're nearly sixty-three,
Words appear from the clouds, prithee,
You'll sound like the Dead Grandmas Society........
Try to be most perfect every single day
Sometimes slip and must keep the nasties at bay
But nine out of ten
I rebound and then
Back to Mr.Wonderful, and the sex games we play
Won't find any gloom if you visit my place
A long sour face is surely a disgrace
Not allowed here
Grins from ear to ear
Are all that's allowed, no nasties, not a trace
The world according to Jack is happy each day
A sunny disposition keeps the nasties away
My advice to all
Big or small
Act like some kiddies in an three act play
It is important we do not get our knickers in a pinch
And wind up acting like the mean, old Grinch
Especially during this season of happiness and cheer,
Let’s lay aside our nasties and unleash them next year.
Surely if we can be kind and patient for the while
From our critics, we will most likely elicit a smile,
And, who knows, we may even forget our discontents,
For “discretion is the better part of valor” makes sense.
written December 3, 2021
bull monster slumbers on the soft cloud of life
without stress or concerns, with no kind of stife.
his mama gave him the assignment all bull monsters want.
he rolls in his dreams, and his lips give a grunt.
does bull monster ever come down here? Asked my boy.
no, he stays there to guide us, giving us gulps of great joy.
he dreams our dreams first, filtering all of the nasties out.
bull monster wants us to sleep soundly, not nightmare about.
Pushing the limits, testing extremes
Expressing my feelings, exposing my dreams
Of a brand new world
No nasties hurled
Sitting down together, whatta a peaceful scene
Closing in on my eighty-second birthday
Still cookin' with gas, keeping the nasties at bay
Still feed myself
Body's still svelte
Can't stop the girlies from caressing my soufflé