Long Trollop Poems
Long Trollop Poems. Below are the most popular long Trollop by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Trollop poems by poem length and keyword.
homelands / husbands / playing house / strands
& strings of horses behind strangers lounging
un-belonging to Thebes of Sevens or women,
depending on how you slice matters, as a perspective
as a twisted bark of favors
sneaky is a wooden gift donkey at a garden gate
overbitten hinge with ten front teeth, grinning
hidden from you looking into it, questioning
its motivated patience rolling up in wait—
weighted with sweat-salted men huffing
inside an oaken belly chewing tight lips, they be-lying
trojan claims of apple cake philanthropy, a ready hoof
as a broken wood tooth busted off in breaching trollop
secretly hiding a picked body of men
beckoning their silent armies to bolster a side
there lies in its midst a flatulence of language
no fox lays a stake on the hole—
protecting its skulk in prevention of domestication's leash
as all before have done, better a murder
of crows than shifting troops proving
stud horses hiding should be stabilized
as leashing foxes having lost the lead
chasing a venery— manufactured hare meant for horse
plot-plottering hooves against his own wood
stoking a smoke-show inside a swollen belly
raking at the gates to get out of the agreement
of being,
for being part of the picked body, scrutinized
for pulling short to remain quiet at the dying chaos
of the rattling sounds from a losing side
Bazball pimps now shrimps on the barbie
So low did stoop scoop of Nincompoop soup
Trumpet the thump it Bazball strumpet crumpet
Bravado of trio with brio plus lardo & avocado
Braggadocio Pinocchio mumbo jumbo gumbo
Bizarre under par no cigar mis-steak tartare
Phony baloney mony mony minestrone
Fish & swish delish dish of death wish Gibberish
Wacky ego from hero to zero tacky shi*show taco
Don’t give a f*ck not once but twice spliced duck
Flame grilled chances spilled one trick pony
Gobbledygook spooked overcooked zabaglione
Slurry in a hurry won’t worry say sorry curry
Baggie green vented spleen terrine
Why would you even risk it brisket
Takes the proverbial herbal verbal biscuit
Ashes hope killer dope quesadilla
Oz supernova it’s already over Dover sole
Lamb to the ripsnorter slaughter
Drole rigmarole goad toad in the hole
Baz puns like Mao’s guns in bao buns
Gory no glory story does bore me Tandoori
Bazball goals down golf holes silly sausage rolls
Canned slices of fanned tanned Barmy army
Starc tsunami lark umami like spiced pastrami
Bavette baguette of bet will forget any regret
Baz & Ben flower pot men smarmy salami
Stumble derails still no humble pie tales
Scallops with dollops of lolloping Codswallop
Bazball boast spit roast with burnt toast trollop
Snipe this tripe is as ripe as our Gripe
Gabbatoir bete noir Pom bomb Dauphinoise
Done like a kipper without Warne’s flipper
Stellar Aussie fella mortadella from the cellar
Hoodwink stink of our skipper.. all cheesy hype
Shocker if this is our Test best.. zest of fu*k fest
In the locker of Davy call in the navy cos Bazball ain’t gravy
OR, MY FEZ
Candy Daddy sneaks into my room at night
"Don't tell mommy," Candy Daddy says.
He has to give me candy when I ask for some
Or anything I want. A doll. A kitten. A fez.
"Candy Daddy, get me an ice cream cone,"
I demand, and narrow my eyes.
"Very well, my tiny trollop."
Candy Daddy grins. All the same,
I often pray he dies.
"Dear Jesus," goes my prayer, "Would you mind
Killing Candy Daddy before he sneaks in my room?
I know it's wrong to want it, but it would be so kind
Of you to introduce him to some painful doom."
So far my prayer has gone unanswered
And Candy Daddy tells me "Make no noise!"
Then come the dawn I gladly don my fez
And eat caramels and play with toys.
I'm pretty sure when I grow up
I will never want to play with boys
Candy Daddy rubs me wrong, and rubs me raw,
And makes me want to run away with my kitten
To Illinois.
O' boy; have you all heard the street gossip today
Mrs. Pringle at No. 9 is having a bad hair day
Mr. Ellis at No. 4 had a shave, as cut his chin
Danny at No. 21 threw his cat out in the bin
Her at No. 30, preggers yet not a man in tow
No. 11 the neighbours from hell really need to go
Postman is having an affair with her at No. 5
No darn wonder, our post is so late to arrive
Johnny at No. 37 has got himself a new motor
Him at No. 41 drains have got a funky odour
The knicker thief at No. 59 is kinda of weird
Her at No. 3 all her bloomers have disappeared
Who am I, I’m not telling, you know how the street gossip
But I did hear No. 47 on passing, say morning trollop
They don’t give a monkeys
You’ve read what they’ve said
These flunkeys are off their head
Braggadocio pinocchio junkies
Baz cronies nutter baloney utter
Phoney show ponies in the gutter
Stutter one more flutter then splutter
Aussies like a knife through butter
The death of a nation..us all pining for Bazball’s fine dining/opining alright whining degustation;
Amuse bouche (louche with a bag of douche);
Golly gosh Hogwash
Humpty Dumpty Numpty
Total scrotal Tosh
To start (brain fart);
Fish have another swish
Trumpet Bazball strumpet crumpet
Dish of death wish Gibberish
To cleanse the palette (God dammit);
Far too mellow sickly sweet lemoncello
Take a mallet to the Bazball planet (grief aperitif & digestif)
Entree (naysay it's okay.. the way we play come what may every bloody day);
Ruddy veteran fuddy duddy buddies bash
Splash of rash & brash
Off stump chump slump rump
Dash..lash then crash
Flash Balderdash hash
Desert ( just desserts)
Teasing wheezing ego pleasing Trollop
Dollop of Codswallop
With a twist of narcissist mist (you get the gist)
Cheese board (traditions ignored)
Aussie gloat aged goat
Camembert despair
Double header immature cheddar
Out fought and out thought Roquefort
(served with they're crackers and in a bit of a pickle)
Petit Fours (flaws encores & guffaws);
Scoop of NincomPOOP
Tasty bit of hasty bullshi*
Peacocks big bolloc*s
Tripe as ripe as our Gripe
You don’t get a coffee because like Test cricket they can’t do it for toffee
The quicksilver moon’s not secure in her orbit.
I’ve heard that she’s slyly slipping away,
One and a half inches yearly
so a little bit every day.
I, for one, want her to stay.
‘Oh meritorious silver sister, you have no dark side,
and I’ve grown used to your capricious light,
Why do you only hover at night?”
I think of her as my own
though she wears no ring
like that showy trollop Saturn
Our moon has a higher engagement pattern.
She’s a spectacle for moon-inspired dances
and a cupid for nocturnal animalistic romances.
Have you noticed that sometimes she’s dark
and sometimes she’s bright?
What turns her on?
What turns her off?
That’s always the question with ladies,
isn’t it?
.
.
Songs for this:
Dancing In The Moonlight (feat. NEIMY) by Jubël
Fly Me to the Moon (feat. Izzie Naylor) Shoby
Moonlight Becomes You by Jeff Haislip
One click closer to a naughty mama.
One click closer to a blue chanteuse.
One click closer to a prima donna.
One click closer to a femme fatale.
One click closer to a black deed done.
One click closer to oblivion.
One click closer to a foxy diva.
One click closer to a sweet coquette.
One click closer to a rogue enchantress.
One click closer to a teasing vamp.
One click closer to a death head’s grin.
One click closer to oblivion.
One click closer to a nagging harpy.
One click closer to a nasty scold.
One click closer to a fussy trollop.
One click closer to a brazen shrew.
One click closer, it’s Euclidian.
One click closer to oblivion.
One click closer to an eager hussy.
One click closer to a .
One click closer to a savage mistress.
One click closer to an ardent tart.
One click closer lets Delilah win.
One click closer to oblivion.