Middle aged man in Docs,
vintage leather jacket and
grey haired pubes around his cock.
Ill fitting tour shirts rekindling a hazy past.
Barrowlands, The Bunnymen. Hammersmith Odeon,The Clash.
U2 at University pre Bono crawling up his own ****.
Danced and hugged on stage with Terry Hall,
arrested for d&d outside Bradfords Great Hall,
after watching John Cooper Clarke supporting The Fall.
Life reinvigorated by the post punk explosion,
no longer searching the NME gig guide,
but a Spotify recommendation.
or an even sadder email notification.
A pre gig meal opposed to a walk home pie in a barm.
Ear buds for the tinnitus and Bisoprolol to keep calm.
Heartbreak to watch the talent unrewarded,
by a government devoid of a cultural foresight.
Stifled opportunities
through Tory Brexit lies,
Allowing the corporations of Cowles and the EMI’s to
reap million upon million,
leaving the grassroots unnurtured, venues struggling to stay open.
Our greatest export,
an industry broken.
Categories:
pubes, depression,
Form: Prose Poetry
In this humid summer air
I don't wear my underwear
my bollocks get all sweaty,
for that I do not care.
It's not amusing they sweat profusely
along with the crack and sweaty pubes
whilst women have their sweaty boobies
seems we all have sweaty rude bits.
So if you girls want to air out your ****
us men will too our balls and dick,
an idea from which we all benefit....
go on, get out your luverly nips.
Categories:
pubes, funny, humorous, people, rude,
Form: Rhyme
When Di had a Brazilian wax
Her beautician was terribly lax
The beautician’s in trouble
Di’s got itchy red stubble
Poor Di’s scratching her pubes to the max!
Jan Allison
20th May 2016
Categories:
pubes, body, humorous,
Form: Limerick
Appeared to be a normal day,
At our University of the Third Age,
Grannies and Grandads writing epic lit.,
Forgot our hearing aids and blankets....
We walked away from our class,
Drank our coffees on the grass,
One old moll began this thing,
We cast off inhibitions and wedding rings,
Decided to have a grey love-in,
One last winter's love fling,
Before hearses the morticians bring,
We were all senile, obese and ga-ga,
The grey scrawny pubes made us ha-ha,
We gave the grandpas some thrills,
We all forgot our cardiac pills,
The old boys were gasping for breath,
Moribundi, close to death......
So, appeared to be a normal day,
On the grass, after class, at U3A,
Love-in amongst the greys,
It was grey liberation day!!!!!
Categories:
pubes, grandparents, love, love hurts,
Form: Free verse
Sir Henry was smoking cheroot
Stark naked in his birthday suit
But he did something rash
When he's flicking his ash
His pubes are no longer hirsute!
4th May 2015
Categories:
pubes, humorous,
Form: Limerick
You are peeling me off
like a crab.
Time has sunk very low.
For the hungry kids
who was growing crab apples ?
Creating art,
arriving between the pubes.
A microfossil
roosting within me.
I could live without oxygen.
Incandescent,
the liquid wounds.
I will not send any salvo.
Satish Verma
Categories:
pubes, art,
Form: ABC