Massive List of Funny/Cool Poems
-Might Add More If I Have Time-
-And Yes, This Is An Extremely Long Post
Shakespearean Insult
Thou art an artless, base-court apple-john,
Beslubb'ring all whose gaze thou looks upon,
Thou bootless, beatle-headed, bladder bug,
Churlishly boil-brained, clapper-clawed old slug!
Thou art so common-kissing, canker-clawed,
Dissembling, dizzy-eyed and mealy-mawed!
Thy dankish, dismal-dreaming, clotpoled ways
Are more errant, in thy unmuzzled daze,
Than any foot-licked, flea-bit flap-dragon,
Or gleeking, half-faced, hedge-pigged jothead on
A paunchy, ill-bred, loutish miscreant -
Thou ever moldwarped, spleeny sycophant!
Were thou less blind in thy bummed, venomed spleen,
Thou wouldst know very well ... it's thee I mean!
Copyright; Mary Grace Dembeck
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A Naughty Little Poem
She whispered "will it hurt me?"
"Of course not" answered he
"It's a very simple process,
You can rely on me."
She said "I'm very frightened,
I've not had this before.
My friend has had it five times
And said it can be sore."
It was growing rather painful
Tears formed in her eyes
It was hurting quite a bit now
It must have been a size.
"Calm yourself" he whispered
"His face filled with a grin
"Try and open wider
So I can get it in."
"It's coming now" he whispered
"I know" she cried in bliss
Feeling it deep within her now
She said "I am glad I'm having this."
And with a final effort
She gave a frightened shout
He gripped it in anguish
And quickly pulled it out.
She lay back quite contended
Sighed and gave a smile
She said "I'm glad I came now
You made it worth my while."
Now if you read this carefully
The dentist you will find
Is not what you imagined
It's just your dirty mind!!
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Answered Prayer
My breasts are really quite small
One can hardly see them at all.
Many a prayer passed my lips,
But God thought I said hips,
Now my arse is the size of a mall.
Copyright; Laurel Kirkwood
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appiness
(note: for best effect, recite in a Portugese accent!)
I found the secret to life...it's 'appiness
'appiness is everyone's due
I wish I could give you all 'appiness
Then we'd all have 'appiness...me and you
'appiness is such a great thing
I'd love to spread some around
If the women all had 'appiness
You'd find them all up...never down
Men need 'appiness more than women
We can find other means to bring joy
But most men would know they've had 'appiness
Since they were a little boy
I remember I had 'appiness once
'Appiness became my good friend
I think 'appiness can serve you
Right through till the bittersweet end
I'd love to give everyone 'appiness
Though some would not know what to do
Would you make the most of 'appiness
If 'appiness came now to you?
'Appiness is not hard to find
Though sometimes 'appiness is hard
For some people just can't feel 'appiness
So when 'appiness comes, they discard.
With my lover I share such 'appiness
He's a truly amazing guy
I wish I could show you such 'appiness
But my lover just will not comply
'Appiness comes in all shapes and sizes
It's treasured the whole world around
If you are not blessed with 'appiness
Go get 'appiness and share it around
So next time that you long for 'appiness
Just remember what you have to do
Just call up a friend, ask him over
To share 'appiness with you
Copyright; Arcadia Flynn
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A Sportin' Life
I'm Marlene durin' office hours
In admin - Bradley's Bricks
Crosswords in mi dinner break
An' finish spot on six
I gets mi mum her shoppin' in
Sometimes I cooks her tea
An' then I'm home to Foxglove Avenue
Just seven cats an' me
Just seven cats an' me that is
Till the evenin's midway through
When I gets a gentleman caller round
An' some nights I gets two
But please, don't get the wrong idea
Romance aint in mi brief
I just do 'personal services'
For blokes what need relief
It's the blokes what need relief, ya see
That helps me pay the rent
An' where's the harm in cheerin' up
Some well heeled city gent?
Doctors, lawyers, VIP's
Mi diary's always packed
An' I've got this Chief Inspector chap
Who likes his bottom smacked
Oh he likes his bottom smacked alright
Wi' a rolled-up Sportin' Life
Then he'll sit an' show me photographs
Of his children an' his wife
She thinks he's down the snooker hall
Wi' a few o' the boys in blue
An' she cooks his kippers unawares
It's me what chalks his cue
I chalks the cue for quite a few
Provides their mid-week treat
Forty quid an' strictly cash
No refunds, no receipt
Oh aye! It seems peculiar
But I've learned to love this life
Don't fancy marryin' t' sort o' bloke
Who'd treat me like a wife
Treat me like a wife, the sod
Roll home at well gone nine
Wi' a tale of how his train broke down
Like hell! The lyin' swine
He's been wi' Little Miss Lingerie
Enjoyin' his Friday fling
While I'm off to bed wi' mi Ovaltine
Now that's what marriage'd bring
That's what marriage'd bring, it would
As well as the more mundane
Matchin' fair isle cardigans
An' holidays spent in Spain
Deckchairs on a well trimmed lawn
Of a Saturday afternoon
Him wi' his gardenin' cataloques out
An' me wi' a Mills an' Boon
Me wi' a Mills an' Boon? My arse!
I'll stick to what I do best
Chasin' the vicar around the settee
Wi' baby oil rubbed on his chest
So be careful if you consider yourself
An impeccable mother an' wife
It could be your Albert bent over mi knee
When I'm armed wi' mi Sportin'Life
Copyright; Steve Morris
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At Christmas Time
At Xmas time when we were kids,
we were bloody poor,
and Santa weren't too generous
when he knocked upon our door
But we made do by saving up,
yes every little bit
"We may be poor" said dear old Dad,
"but I dont give a shit!"
Our Xmas tree stood tall & proud
and rigid as a totem,
With Xmas baubles hangin' there.....
like testies in ya scrotum!
Everyone loved Xmas dinner,
no if's, and's or but's,
and all us kids would piss ourselves
when Grandpa dropped his guts.
We'd leave a six pack for Santa
and he always drank it quick,
then I found out it was just me Dad,
the alcoholic prick!
But all in all we had fun,
and lot & lots of cheer,
Now I can't wait till I've got kids....
cause I'll get a carton of beer!
Copyright; Bruce Thompson
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Bath Time
I was sat in the bath
counting my legs
and scrubbing my naughty bits
soaping my torso
my bum even more so
and sponging my hairy armpits.
With legs fully lathered
the shampoo suds gathered
as froth upon my head
I toyed with a loofah
my rubber duck too for
I love a bath play before bed.
The fun was soon finished
excitement diminished
as I was dragged out of the water
the plumber complained
that his patience was strained
as I bathed in view of his daughter
and shop staff and customers who were in the plumber's merchants store at the time.
Copyright; Stephen Cree
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Beauty & The Beast
I've got a little problem and I know I'm not alone
As I travel around the mayhem of the beauty revival zone.
No it's not the wrinkles that crinkle around my eyes,
Or grey hairs, for I have an assortment of cream and dyes.
But there is another area & I feel I should confess,
That god has been very unkind to me
-and made my life a hair removing process.
Companies are making a fortune, us girls have been handing out tips,
That's how we got the razors with the moisturising strips.
Use them on our legs, and in our underarm groove,
Tops of our feet and two big toes until were nice and smooth.
There's delapitory cream for the bikini line,because it doesn't leave a rash
Like if you happen shave if you happen to be in a rush.
My fellow said to me one day when the sun did shine,
"Lets go to the beach my love, while the weather is so grand and devine".
Well I went into a dilemma, for I knew I'd be a disgrace,
With my wretched flaming bikini line, growing all over the place.
So a friend lent me an epilady, it's sorta like a small whipper snipper,
Rips those hairs right out of their socket,
Feels like getting something caught in a zipper.
Tweezers come in handy around my eyebrows and chin,
My nipples and my nostrils but I tell you I can't win.
I'm O.K. for a day or two, three if the moon is in the right place,
Then I turn into a werewolf, with whiskers all over my face.
Some say try waxing, six weeks without any cares,
But no one ever tells you about all those ingrown hairs.
Oh I wish I was living in Europe, they say it's all the fashion over there, They say it's very sexy, to be covered all over with hair-
Or perhaps to be born a fair maiden, all made up of peaches and cream,
One of those nice little ladies, that doesn't have hair where it shouldn't be seen.
But really I should stop complaining, for I have other assets to make it all fair,
Well sort of- There all covered with bloody hair.
Copyright; Jacqueline H. Bridle
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BIG BAD POO
(To the tune of Big Bad John)
Copyright; Mark Feldman
(Admittedly) one sick night in 1998
From his book 'Visions of the Quill'
Sunday morning, in the S-bend, you could see him arrive,
He was nine inches long and two inches wide,
Kind of broad in the center, narrow in the tip,
Bobbing in the bowl like a brown battleship,
Big Poo.
CHORUS
Big Poo...oo.
Big Bad Poo.
Big Poo...
He emerged from the bowels of Lady Jane,
With a fair bit of grunting' and a whole lot of pain.
He squeezed through her cheeks with fire and ash,
And into the bowl with one hell of a splash.
Big Poo.
CHORUS
Well, he started his life the day before,
As a nice, juicy beefsteak that was medium raw.
Alfalfa and vegetables hung him long,
And two hot cross buns made him awfully strong.
Big Poo.
CHORUS
Six glasses of wine lubricated his wake,
With some added propulsion from a chocolate cake,
And the big, lumpy midriff that bumped in the bowl,
Was the seed from a lichee she'd swallowed whole.
Big Poo.
CHORUS
It took fourteen flushes to send him away,
But the skid-marks he left clung on ten days.
This wasn't the end of his journey south,
He collected eight tampons and one dead mouse.
Big Poo.
CHORUS
This was Just the beginning of something' more,
There were curried prawns buried deep in his core,
They brewed that gas they run engines from,
And this floating log became an atom bomb!
Big Poo.
CHORUS
Well, he snuck through a valve at the treatment shed,
Where he lurked in the chemicals 'till they ate his head,
Then with a rush of gas and an almighty bang,
The whole plant went up, and the fat lady sang.
Big Poo.
CHORUS
Well, there wasn't a whole lot left of the site,
It was leveled to the ground by brown dynamite,
So they inscripted a plaque, and upon it was writ:
"At the bottom of this sewer, lies a big, mean shit...
...Big Poo."
CHORUS
RPT. CHORUS (fading...)
Copyright; Mark Feldman
(Admittedly) one sick night in 1998
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Boobs
(subtitled: Points North)
(sub-subtitled: Thanks for the Mammaries)
Oh I wish I had boobs that would wobble
Mine just stay still in one place
In the breast hall of fame
You won't see my name
For my boobs there would be a disgrace
Sure boobs of my size have their merit
They're easy to fit with a bra
And when I go for a dip
You won't see one slip…out
They stay put…just where they are
And I'm not one to seek much attention
So you won't find me strutting about
In a boob tube that's trying
by gravity defying
to leave no room, not even for doubt
But I sure envy big breasted women
I've seen them at parties you know
With all confidence thrust
In their mighty big bust
Entrancing the men as they go
Though I've heard from a big bosomed buddy
That it's not all it's cracked up to be
She says in frustration
"Try to hold conversation
When there's only two things a guy sees"
Now if I paid a few grand to enlarge them
To, say thirty-six b or c
Would they still look so natural
And could I class them as collateral
Sorta like home improvements on me
Now I've not taken this boob thing just lightly
I've done quite a bit of research
As I try to keep abreast
In my mammary quest
I've found there's a bit to be learned
There's questions that need to be answered
Like cleavage, how wide and how deep
I can have nipples bigger
But somehow I figured
That could poke Sweetie's eye in his sleep
Oh, I wish I had boobs that were awesome
I'd buy a bright red bathing suit
On the beach I would run
In slow motion for fun
To show off my best attribute
Now don't think I'd just get them for vanity
There's much I'd aspire to do
I could feed many babies
When I was lactating
And for convenience, I could offer drive-thru
In a t-shirt I'd test air conditioning
They could 'see' if they had it too low
And if I stood outside
My breasts pumped up with pride
Police'd use me to stop traffic flow
Well you can see I've a lot to consider
For the big plunge, I need some more time
So I'll keep you updated
But for now they're just fated
To stay as they are for a while
And there's my sweetie who totally accepts me
For he loves each and every little…bit
He says "stay as you are
You're the most beautiful by far"
As he gazes into my eyes…not my tits
Copyright; Arcadia Flynn
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Breakfast at Tiffany's
I'd to stay at Tiffany Dungworth's house
for a couple of weeks last year
-she kept unusual pets: a louse
and a virus that causes diarrhoea.
Me Mum h'd gone off to Stoke-on-Trent
to console her friend, Vera Sproat
who'd discovered her husband-
without her consent-
wearin' her smalls and furcoat,
at which he took Umbrage
their two-year-old setter
and eloped with a local M.P.
He nicked all her undies,
left an intricate letter
explainin' why he'd not need his tea.
Every mornin' Tiff's Mum,
with her hairpiece askew
and two inches of ash on her fag,
would minister a miscellany
of groat-based goo
that induced me thorax to gag.
Each mornin' I'd eye this gastronomic crime
with a sense of due caution and dread
-and would've put this lugubrious,
gastronomic slime
to a far better use instead:
like makin' good our antique chaise longue
that Beryl Glazer dismantled with ease
when she took an unexpected dive, headlong
and the skin off her fat hairy knees.
It could well have been used
for patchin' the hole
in the unfortunate Claud Cockrot's canoe
or stuffin' Mum's much lamented
Moley the mole
or aquasealin' the crack in our loo
that poor Aunt Maud inadvertently made
whilst nervously droppin' a brick
after bein' informed that her pussy,
though spayed,
were pregnant by Arkwright's Dick.
And talkin' of bricks, I reckon them groats
could easily be kilned into cubes
or even moulded like fibreglass boats
or as a replacement for Bostik, in tubes.
Copyright; Ephraim Crud
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Carry On 'Round the Bend
The kitchen is situated next to the loo,
where colleagues gather to make a brew,
and even though you might think it absurd
we cringe at the thought of being heard
We put paper down first, we sit on the ledge
one of our cheeks hanging over the edge,
we whistle and sing, but the images stay
of guys in the kitchen shouting "Bombs away"
To mask the sound of 'air on the wing'
Emma will humm and warble and sing,
then all of a sudden you'll hear someone shout
"For Gods sake throw that bloody cat out"
The expelled air stinks but she's no fool
she steps from the cubicle looking cool
and sniffing her shoulder, now that's a neat trick
she blames the smell on baby sick.
One of the girls, oh go on then, its Claire
likes using a drier to blow dry her hair
now that's very naughty, and not what I said
she doesn't need to stand on head
Sandy complains "I have delicate skin,
the towels are rubbish and much too thin
and I get little bubbles that itch and sting
If I don't dry carefully under my ring"
A problem started when marvellous Marge
(her temper matches her size, very large)
screaming "how can I aim for that little hole"
she ripped the toilet seat right off the bowl
Now conjure a picture of the elegant Jan
elegantly perched upon the pan,
there's a sideways shift of the toilet seat
and she's elegantly peeing on her feet
Most of us gals are the modest type
don't bother with make-up or fashion, that's hype
but Caroline uses the mirror a lot
to study the pimples on her bot
She tells us the mirror is grubby and hazy
but we all think she's bloody crazy
she stares at her arse and thinks its ace
but then, it's much prettier than her face.
You'll often see Judi admiring her face
her make-up strewn all over the place
lipstick? Mascara? Don't make me howl
more like hammer, chisel and a plaster caked trowel.
The sink is dangerous with sharp bits of metal
which slice through skin, makes us reach for the Dettol
and imagine our horror when last Thursday
Yvonne was caught using it as a bidet
A soap dispenser would be to our taste
it would save all the mess, cut down on waste
"A nice smelling one would be a real treat"
says the lovely Catherine while washing her feet
"Its disgusting its filthy, its dingy and dark
I'd rather coupe down in the car park,
They should treat us like ladies, not potato pickers"
Kelly exclaimed while swilling her knickers
She sat in his office, this client from hell
a figure like Trigger in an Armani shell
and above a blouse of fucsia silk
there loomed a face that could curdle milk
But the meeting went well, our client impressed
she tidied her papers, he eyed her breast
she made her excuses to powder her nose
Grahams face blanched, he lost all repose
He thought of the seats and the sink with revulsion
he thought of the walls that needed emulsion
he thought of the grime and the grunge and the grot
and he wished that she could tie hers in a knot.
Some of the girls we've neglected to mention
Cos' we don't want to risk losing your attention
But we all agree, and it won't cost a mint
so for God's sake Graham, take a hint!!!
Copyright; Sandy Howe
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Dear Santa
All I want for Christmas is a pair of nice young men,
A football team . League or Union . I don't mind,
A determined man with plenty of gysm,
Broad shoulders. Hairy chest. And a tight behind.
Dear Santa,
I promise that I won't hurt them,
I just have a few games I'd like to play,
They'll be well fed and cared for. Truly appreciated,
And I'll return them to you on New Year's Day.
But Dear Santa,
If you can't provide any of the above,
Dear Santa. You've got such a kindly face,
Just harness up your reindeer to your sleigh Dear,
And drop on over . I'll be waiting at my place.
Copyright; Robyn Scott
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DINNER AT SWEETIE’S
I had dinner with my sweetie
At his home the other night
I knew he’d make a special treat
At least I hoped he might
He set out all the crockery fine
With his best linen pressed
Silver knives and forks and spoons
I really was impressed
I said “What’s for dinner sweetie?”
He flashed a cheeky smile
And replied “I know you’ll love it
It’ll be ready in just a while”
Well I got a little suspicious
For I noticed that no smell
Was coming from his kitchen
And no food was there as well
Nothing cooking on the stove
So sign of chook nor fish
And he knew spaghetti marinara
Was my favourite dish
The stereo played slow love songs
The candles were aglow
He certainly was cooking something up
But what? I did not know
As he led me away from the kitchen
My hopes began to crumble
When he took me to the main bedroom
I heard my tummy rumble
He set me down upon the bed
And then to my surprise
He grabbed a blood red silken tie
And wrapped it round my eyes
I started feeling worried
This was not his normal behaviour
What could be for dinner here
And what could I find to savour?
I could hear him rustling round a bit
What was taking him so long
I’d known him over six months now
But could I have judged him wrong?
Did he have a darker side?
Was he into kinky stuff?
Well everything here seemed OK
I knew I just had to trust
Then I felt his hand so gentle
As he slowly released my blindfold
I opened my eyes and before me
Was such a sight to behold
He had totally turned his body
From his crown to his toenail tip
Into a savoury sensation
And in his hand... a packet of chips
Well, I could not hold back the laughter
I was rolling about in a fit
Then he held out the packet and said,
So solemn...”Would you like a dip?”
After removing the hair from the pate
To my delight it tasted divine
And he kept a supply of rice crackers
Propped up ‘tween his toes in a line
Well I tried the cream cheese on his fingers
His belly button olives were yum
But I kept coming back for my favourite
The guacamole smeared on his buns
He’d gone to a lot of trouble
To find all my favourite things
I especially liked the arrangement
Of the cheezles and burger rings
I shared all the treats with my sweetie
Towards the end I was starting to slow
He gave me a wink and suggested
I finish off with a big cheerio
Needless to say...
There were no further courses
We sent out for pizza instead
After sweetie had showered we ate it
Propped up in our crumb filled bed
Now our relationship’s taken on new meaning
As we share in our new found delight
In fact I’ve invited my sweetie
For dessert round at my place tonight!
Copyright; Arcadia Flynn
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Early Morning Jog
Each morning I go jogging thinking, "I'm as fit as in the past",
But the lungs aren't what they used to be, my esophagus is tighter than my arse.
So with every breath I strain and suck, and there's a pounding in my brain
Imagine what it's like to struggle to keep up with a granny and her
zimmer-frame.
The legs are getting weaker with every step I take,
And I push myself to the limits to keep the old lady in my wake.
I've really turned it on, "my God I've really pulled away!
There's no way that she'll catch me now", it's really made my day.
Clippety-clop! Clippety-clop! "Hey sonny", she's on my back again!
That crusty old lady, and now two friends, and of course their zimmer-frames
"Oh shit! They're at my shoulder", and they thought that they'd go passed
But then I coat hangered everyone of them, I could cause they weren't that fast.
So now my jogging's over and I start the long walk home,
But no bad deed goes unpunished, especially if you're walking home alone.
And those dear old crusty biddies, they ambushed me in the street,
And stuck those zimmer frames ... well now I can't go jog for weeks.
Copyright; The Guru
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Family Planning
They stood on the bridge
over the River K Y
at its estuary
to the Ovulant Sea
both synchronised watches
and studied charts
to conclude that
on Thursday at three
her tides would be in
most generous flow
and his love boat could
sail to Virility
with anchor dropped
seamen would swim
in the deep warm
Bay of Fertility.
Back on the bridge
he found it hard
to confess that he
had been vasectomised.
Copyright; Stephen Cree
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FIFTY SOMETHING
Copyright; Shirley Friend
From her book 'Another Dose From Floozie'
“Do you know...what day it is?”
“Nope”...said my beau. “What's today?”
“Well! If you can't remember”, I cried
“I'm not gonna say.
Well aren't you gonna ask me?”
I insisted with a few tears.
“Alright”, he said...”you're fifty today...
and you have been for three or four years”.
That wasn't what I wanted to hear.
Just a few...simple birthday wishes,
a romantic night...a bottle of wine
and someone to do the dishes.
Instead...like a mature plucked Cinderella
with mascara blurred...eyes
my Prince Charming declares he's swapping
my fifty for two twenty fives.
He'll have a problem handling two;
his belly hangs below his belt.
He said my boobs were no better
like saddle bags...last time he felt.
See...they fall underneath me arms.
He knelt on 'em once and they spread.
Reckoned he was leaning forward
to switch on the light overhead.
He can't do things...like he used to
gets short winded and very abrupt.
When we were young...he worked all night
now he's all night...working it up.
Mind you...I don't give him a lot of help
like I did when I was young.
The elasticity has left my vital parts
you could say...spring has sprung.
We try to get together...
was recommended a book called "Fore Play"
wasn't a crossword or card game in it,
and the pictures were worn away.
I looked at myself in the mirror
perhaps the problem lies with me.
Surely the body doesn't fall apart...
...life begins at fifty.
I need to recharge by batteries,
get rid of my facial hair,
buy new underwire bras,
make 'em look like a pair.
My beau used a whipper snipper on my face,
“I'll trim it”...he said...”it won't pull”.
So I laid on the floor with his foot on my neck,
it started...then ran out of fuel.
Just as well...it went berserk,
desexed our neighbour’s cat.
I said...”Whatever you do...don't mention it...
when you give 'em the snipper back.”
I've been going to the gym lately,
I wear the correct gear...
you know...leotards with that skinny strap
on the strategic part of your rear.
No-one told me to wear tights as well
as I sat on the rowing machine.
Imagine how I felt...when a man pulled it out,
thank goodness it came out clean.
I'm preparing my body and keeping fit,
you know age is a state of mind too,
don't ask me what state I'm in,
let's just say...’Thirty Two.’
Copyright; Shirley Friend
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I Am A De-sexed Pussy Cat
I am a desexed pussy cat, they took me to the vet,
Because I got all horny, but I never got one yet.
The female cats around me just hissed and scratched my face,
And my owners got annoyed with me when I hissed around the place.
So in humiliation for they couldn't face the truth,
I went and showed my discontent by crying on the roof.
Well this got the neighbours going, and in came all the calls,
When I heard the big one saying, "That cat is going to loose his balls."
We were waiting in the waiting room, I was naive I must mention,
Though I did detect some guilty looks and the air was full of tension.
And It must have been my cat instincts that made me loose my cool,
For I felt a great urgency to protect the family jewels.
So I escaped and I took off up the road,
Over a fence, across a yard, and tucked up inside was my load.
The little one caught me, -I cried and pleaded why?
As she handed me over to a man in a coat who stuck a needle into my thigh.
When I came to, - in a dopey sleepy blur,
I felt cold, depressed sore, -I couldn't even purr.
And when I think of all the injustices, cats aint got no rights,
Not like you two legged humans, that stay up and play up all night.
I was just a big fluffy kitten, a randy teenage tom,
But now I'm just a neutered thing, because both of my cods are gone.
So I hang out here on the hearth rug, slowly going crackers
All because some capitalistic, self-righteous vet, went and knicked my knackers.
Copyright; Jacqueline H. Bridle
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It Goes in Dry, It Comes Out Wet
It goes in dry, it comes out wet,
the longer it's in the stronger it gets
we can have it in bed, just you and me
its not what you think, it's a cup of tea!!!!
Copyright; Stacey Brannon
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It's Time
I'm thirty six and single
Children? not a one
"Half your luck"...I hear you say,
"I'll bet you're having fun!"
But others on the contrary
are often quick to say
"You better do it soon
your biological clock ticks away"
You see, not many of you know
I'd love to be a mum
I have the sense of humour
To make a real good one
And I've tried to find a partner
a soul mate, lover, friend
one who'll accept me as I am
and be there till the end
But to this day I'm yet to find
the one who's meant to be
I used to run away from them
now they run away from me
So I've decided now to change my course
forget my heart, go with my head
instead of looking for Mr Right
I'll seek a sperm donor instead
It's not important how he looks
Nor personality, it seems
Nor what's in-between his ears
But what's inside his genes (G.E.N.E.S.)
It really makes a lot of sense
and saves a lot of time
Instead of all that dating stuff
I'll just have them stand in line
They'll tell me all about themselves
and why I should choose them
I'll ask about diseases, inflictions
then when I'm at the end
I'll call the chosen one to me
and present him with a cup
some playboy mags, a porn movie
then when his time is up
I'll thank him for his contribution
send him on his way
Put the cup into the freezer
until the appropriate day
Then with the cup and what came in it
I'll set about the task
Of doing what usually comes naturally
"How?"...well you may ask
Of course I'll need a friend to help
As I stand there on my head
I know I can't stay there too long
or my face will go all red
They say you can tell just when it happens
Somehow your body knows
You'll feel the tadpole reach the egg
and your body starts to glow
That's when I'll know that I'm a mum
well, will be, nine months away
As my life makes room for a little one
and more lessons along the way
So maybe you can help me
now you know about my plan
of having a relationship
with the sperm, but not the man
You might have a brother, friend or mate
Who my offer might take up
Who doesn't want responsibility
and who can fill a cup
Or fellas if you're interested
to help me with my plight
Take a number, stand in line
I'll take bookings...here ....tonight
Copyright; Arcadia Flynn
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Jumper
She was the frumpiest of frumps;
Her brains had once been Forest Gump´s;
Her face revealed, between the lumps,
More stretch marks than Ivana Trump´s,
Her hair was rats´ tails grown in clumps;
Her legs were straight as cricket stumps;
Her breasts were Bactrian camel´s humps,
Her rump the Everest of rumps -
But, my lads, she gave free jumps!
Copyright; Vulgarian
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Knee Trembling
Whilst oblivious people passed us by
In a shop doorway, leaning on the door.
Quite exciting and lots of fun
We had done it many times before.
Sometimes we could take our time.
The only recreation we could find.
Sometimes I would hurry up
Just in case she changed her mind.
Standing in the doorway.
Fumbling in the dark.
Competing with our garments.
Trying not to miss the mark.
Young and reckless give no thought.
To what the consequences were.
Raging hormones took their course
We are adolescent, we don't care.
I recall the first occasion
I found it rather tough
"I did'nt know you were a virgin.
Or I wouldn't have been so rough."
"That's Ok" the girl replied
"I didn't mind you being rough
If I'd known you were going to do it
I could have got my tights off."
I recall another passionate night.
"Are you enjoying it?" I said.
I noticed that with every stroke
The girl would nod her head.
"Are you nodding in approval? "
I asked her with a grin.
"No.. it's every time you make a stroke
It's that you tuck my scarf in."
Many years this went on,well into our teens.
As I got older things got worse
Almost bursting out my jeans.
We were doing it that often
In doorway number four
By the time her eighteenth birthday came
We'd rubbed the paint work off the door.
I'm often reminded of doorway number four
Now old age has finally come.
For when she gets undressed at night
I see the imprint still on her bum.
Copyright; Dustnomi
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Last Drag
They'll stunt your growth, your breath will humm
like the air expelled from Satan's bum,
your face will resemble a dried up swede,
you must give up the dreaded weed.
They're coffin nails, they're cancer sticks
put here by the Devil up to his tricks,
he'd heard it all, but filter tips
would still be hanging from his lips.
Most boys were into Desperate Dan
but our guy worshipped the Marlborough Man,
he just thought we were really mean
depriving him of nicotine.
He'd tell the newsagent of his fear
who would snigger and say "Oh, no my dear,
you're the male equivalent of 'Fag Ash Lil' ",
as he was ringing up his till.
It's a year now, since that last drag
since his mouth pulled on a lethal fag.
What changed his mind? What was the force?
Why, death... of course!!
Copyright; Sandy
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Introduction
Life is just another sexually transmitted disease
Life
When I'm in a sober mood
I worry work and think
When I'm in a drunken mood
I gamble play and drink
But when my moods are over
And my time as come to pass
I hope I'm buried upside down
So the world can kiss my ass.
Copyright; Adrian Wilson
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Mammaories of Birth
Heavenly sleep
in this womb I call home
Though maybe
just a little alone
When suddenly
from my embrionic slumber
I find myself
being wrenched asunder
By a great big claw
in rubber glove
And a ferocious voice
yelling "SHOVE GIRL!, SHOVE!!"
With all my might
I resist its gain
But alas, alas
it's all in vain
For after one last great
pelvic thrust
I'm on the floor
all covered in dust
But I won't give in
return I must
To that one true home
for which I lust
So, following a quick
prayer to the lord (they get ya early these Catholics)
I climb
up my umbilical chord
And upon seeing that deep red (here comes the sex)
vagina fire
I experienced my very first
sexual desire
But midway through
my desperate lunge
I was confronted
by a great big sponge
Which proceeded to wipe me
free from slime
As I despaired at having reached
'the end of the line'
BUT!, my despair soon turned
back into lust
For those two big tits
that were before me thrust
No more have I thoughts
of longing for home
For with women out here
I won't be alone
Copyright; Vince Venero
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Mary had a Duck
Mary had a little lamb she also had a duck,
she took it round the corner to teach it how to
fry some eggs for breakfast, fry some eggs for tea
the more you eat, the more you drink the more you want to
Peter had a boat the boat began to rock
up jumped some jaws and bit off his
cocktails, ginger ales, forty cents a glass
if you don't like it shove it up your
ask no questions tell no lies
I saw a police man doing up his
flies are bad mosquitoes are worse
and this is the end of my silly little verse!
Copyright; Skye Tepas
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Miss Fishwick's Office Blues
Just a tiny reminder Miss Fishwick
Our meeting's arranged for half three
And I need you to give Mrs Collins a ring
And tell her just where I won't be
Don't mention that you're in the meeting
Stay calm and aloof from afar
And when she complains about me being late
Just remind her what paid for the car
Well isn't this cosy Miss Fishwick?
It's a shame that it's just you and I
But it gives us the chance to have that long chat
And give office relations a try
Could you fancy a drop of red vino?
I hope you don't mind this old mug
The glasses all went at the last Christmas bash
I think you were off sick with some bug
Could I ask a small favour Miss Fishwick
Cos I'm sure the wife's spot-on your size
Though she isn't as young and she's not got blonde hair
And she doesn't have lovely blue eyes
But I've bought her some racy red undies
Janet Reger, a fine piece o' kit
Could you just pop 'em on and then give us a twirl?
Cos I need to be sure that they'll fit
Oh don't leave the office Miss Fishwick
Or you'll have me dragged over the coals
Look, I've borrowed this Japanese video cam
Why not help me to suss the controls?
No, you don't need your clothes on, that's silly
Cos it's really quite warm for mid-May
And it seems if I press on this button right here
I can zoom up and down all the way
Now I know I'm a nuisance Miss Fishwick
But your body is just so sublime
And I know all the others went home dead on five
But I promise you'll get double time
Could you push out your bum like a pin-up?
That's perfect, now give me a wink
And show off that chest like you do when you're drunk
See, it's not quite as hard as you think
Oh you should be in pictures Miss Fishwick
Fulfilling I think that you'll find
But you really must work with an artist
Not some pervert with muck on his mind
I've a very large part if you fancy
Your talents should not go to waste
The new project's called 'Cleaners Off Duty'
It's a beacon of class and good taste
I don't think you'll regret this Miss Fishwick
In fact it could well change your life
Now leave on those nice Janet Regers
And I'll get something cheap for the wife
No there isn't a script, not to speak of
You can make it all up as you go
But be sure to yell 'go for it big boy'
And that's pretty much all you need know
Could you answer the door please Miss Fishwick?
It's Frank from McCartney and Hicks
Aways wanted to be in the movies
So I said we'd be here about six
Frank, I'm so glad you could make it
Miss Fishwick you'll soon get to know
So don't hang about get your pants off
And lets get this road on the show
What a splendid manoeuvre Miss Fishwick
That's well worth a close-up I'm sure
But Frank can you please take your socks off
This is art, not a pile of manure
Now I'd like you both up on the cupboards
While I get a wide shot from behind
And yes, it's quite natural Miss Fishwick
And I'm certain your boyfriend won't mind
Let's do the big finish Miss Fishwick
Frank, it's the one we discussed
Just grip the appliance at an angle like this
And Miss Fishwick you'll just have to trust
Now Frank, set the motor to 'quiet'
And the suction to just below one
OK let me check that mi focusing's right
Yes it is. Miss Fishwick switch on
Could you fetch the first aid box Miss Fishwick?
Your whinging Frank, try to refrain
Here, rub on some cream till the ambulance comes
I'm sure it'll help ease the pain
Yes, I've switched off the Hoover, don't wriggle
This tubing just needs a slight nudge
Now just grit your teeth while I get a firm hold
No, I'm sorry, the bugger won't budge
Can you come down the station Miss Fishwick?
Yes, I know that I put you through Hell
But if you'll just ask for Inspector McGee
He'll bring you straight through to my cell
I think I'll get bail by the weekend
Cos the vice squad are somewhat confused
They can't quite work out why you were unharmed
While Frank got all swollen and bruised
You're a genius, you know that Miss Fishwick?
Believe me, you really are smart
Leaving the video cam running like that
And convincing the jury it's art
Then you go and sell two million copies
And the Turner Prize drops in your lap
Crack open that bubbly Miss Fishwick
Let's drink to the next load of crap
Copyright; Steve Morris
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My First Time
The sky was dark
the moon was high
all alone just her and I
Her hair so soft
her eyes so blue
I knew just what she wanted to do
Her skin so soft
her legs so fine
I ran my fingers down her spine
I didn't know how
but I tried my best
to place my hand on her breast
I remember my fear
my fast beating heart
but slowly she spread her legs apart
And when she did
I felt no shame
as all at once the white stuff came
At last it was finished
it's all over now,
my first time...milking a cow.
Copyright; Michelle Wise
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My Phallic Lover
You're the train inside my tunnel
You're the finger in my glove
You're the gear stick in my gearbox
My god this must be love
You're the drill inside my cavity
You're the handle in my broom
The lead that fills my pencil
I'm your gate and you're my boom
You're the carrot in my crisper
You're the ladder to my loft
You're the pistol in my holster
Mind you don't go off!
You're the sword inside my scabbard
The sausage in my hotdog
You're the French stick in my basket
You're my snake and I'm your log
You're the eel that swims my waterhole
The utensil in my drawers
You're the cork that seals my bottle
Yes it's you that I adore
In my engine you're the piston
You're the toothpaste in my tube
The zucchini in my fettuccini
Oh I'm so in love with you
You're the rat inside my drainpipe
You're the log that burns my fire
The banana in my smoothie
Yes it's you that I desire
You're the bottle in my cooler
The plunger in my loo
Your torpedo fills my submarine
Yes my darling I love you
You are my phallic lover
We are a perfect fit
I'd like to do some things with you
If you'd be up to it?
So take me back to your place
And we can have some fun
It feels just right to hold you tight
As we two become as one.
Copyright; Arcadia Flynn
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My Gilded Filly
A young, filly palomino, one I trailered from Encino,
Was much wilder than a country whore and nearly as uncouth.
My first time up in the saddle made that filly's innards rattle,
And she bucked so hard her head swung back and really broke my tooth!
With her snortin' nostrils flarin,' she took off with me aswearin'
Forty cusswords I've anarin used, and sailors ain't aswore.
To the reins I held on tighter, with my knuckles turnin' whiter,
As that palomino "horse-from-hell" kicked dust behind and fore.
For the woods she straight was headin', just what I had been adreadin,'
But I ne'er could change her mind atall -- nor turn her left or right.
She was madder than a lady who'd been dealt some dealin's shady,
And was bent on throwin' me that day -- or surely by that night!
Now, what happened next is blurry, 'cause it happened in a hurry,
That damn palomino tripped and fell from steppin' in a rut;
Well, I think that is the reason, though my brain is out of season,
But whatever caused that horse to fall, it saved my quiv'rin' butt!
That darn filly gave no darn, as she galloped toward the barn,
Leavin' me to walk nigh eight long miles while freezin' in the cold.
After takin' two slow limps, oozing black stuff made me glimpse;
Stooping down to take a closer look, hot damn! 'twas liquid gold!
It's been nigh on thirty years since that filly gave me fears,
But them oil wells that have sprung up since sure he'ped my fears to pass;
When that palomino died, I just stuffed her orn'ry hide,
Then with purest gold I gilded her -- so I could mount her ass!
Copyright; Travis Brasell
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Nearly
Don't you look under my matress mama,
You don't know what you will see.
Those books of bare naked women mama,
Belong to my brother, -- and not to me.
I did not even know they were there,
Honest, -- I've never even had a quick look.
If I had known such stuff existed,
To the rubbish dump the whole lot I'd have took.
I agree with YOU, -- It's horrid and rude,
They should be made to put on their clothes.
Just you give them all to me mama,
And into the bin I'll make sure the lot goes.
That filth you found is really disgusting,
Just wait till I find my young brother.
I'll kick his bum, and poke his eye,
You can count on me, --- yes you can mother.
I would NEVER read such horrible trash,
Naked young girls are a terrible sight.
It's not me, -- but your other son Hector,
Who drools over them every night.
Just give them here, -- give them to me,
You won't see the things any more.
They are crude and rude and perverted,
Hector must read them behind his closed door.
Mama, Mama, have you gone downstairs,
I think she has, -- I thought I was in for a spanking.
Gee whizz, that was close, -- I nearly got caught,
Now let's get back down to some serious wanking!
Copyright; Topoke
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Nothing Is Quite What It Seems!
In the half moonlight
of a sleepless night
I caress the man of my dreams,
in the cold light of day
my dreams fade away,
and nothing is quite what it seems.
His touch sets afire,
my dormant desire,
he tenderly nibbles my toes,
he's kissing my thighs,
my ears, nose and eyes,
and stroking my cheeks with a rose.
My pulse is erratic,
I feel quite ecstatic,
who is the man with l'amour,
I open my eyes,
and scream with surprise,
It's Jake, my pet Labrador!
Copyright; Nikki Barker
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Naughty Nursery Rhymes
Mary had a little lamb
Her father shot it dead.
Now it goes to school with her,
between two chunks of bread.
Little Miss Muffet sat on a tuffet,
her clothes all tattered and torn.
It wasn't the spider that crept beside her,
But Little Boy Blue and his horn.
Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall
Humpty Dumpty had a great fall.
All the kings horses and all the kings men,
said "F*ck him, He's only an egg.
Georgie Porgy pudding and pie.
Kissed the girls and made them cry.
When the boys came out to play,
He kissed them too, cause he was gay.
Jack and Jill
Went up the hill
to have some hanky panky.
Silly Jill forgot her pill
And now there's little Franky.
Old Mother Hubbard
Went to the cupboard
to fetch her poor dog a bone.
When she bent over
Rover took over,
And gave her a bone of his own.
Little Boy Blew.
Hey. He needed the money.
Mary had a little skirt
with splits right up the sides
and every time that Mary walked
the boys could see her thighs
Mary had another skirt
twas split right up the front
and every time that Mary walked
the boys could see her ......
(but she didn't wear that one very often)
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Only You!
You turn me on, you handsome hunk
With your sunken, hairless chest
In your skinny white arms
I feel safe from all harm
Oh yes, yes, yes, yes, yes!
Your beard is long and full of crumbs
From all the fast food there you've dropped
And with your big sloppy kiss,
I know the meaning of bliss
Oh stop, stop, stop, stop, stop!
I laugh as you smile me your toothless grin
Your face is a gift from above
And as your one glass eye
Tries to wink, I just sigh
I'm in love, love, love, love, love!
I've always wanted a man with a hairy back
And yours goes right to your bum
And your fat in its folds
Gives me more of you to hold
Oh yum, yum, yum, yum, yum!
My senses you tease with your burps and your farts
I've never smelt this way before
And because you don't shower
It lasts for hours and hours
Oh more, more, more, more, more!
I love with a passion your almost bald head
With the hairs combed across there just so
And your big wooden leg
Propped up next to the bed
Makes me go, go, go, go, go!
Your dress sense is awesome, a sight to behold
In your stubbies, singlet, thongs, the lot
As you walk down the street
Bum hanging out, it's a treat
Oh I'm so hot, hot, hot, hot, hot!
When we're doin' it my most favourite bit
Is the wobble in your beer belly pod
Then after a minute
You're all done and finished
oh god, god, god, god, god!
You've been through a lot in your forty odd years
You've caught every god damned disease
Been broken and torn
Battered and worn
So please, please, please, please, please
Take me tonight as we cuddle real close
As our bits rub together once more
Know that you're in my heart
Every funny, ugly, fat, wobbly, hairy, smelly part
I'm yours, yours, yours, yours, yours
Copyright; Arcadia Flynn
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O' Thong
Oh Thong - Oh Thong
Why do you feel so wrong?
I follow your instructions down to the letter
But nothing makes you feel any better
You ride too high and in my crack
There is no way the store will ever take you back
Although you make me look sexy and hot
I can't take any more, you will make a great Sling Shot....
Copyright; Darlene Lane
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Phone Games
She quivered with anticipation, the familiar ring
The telephone call that made her heart sing.
His voice soft and low, it made her face glow
With the soft pink hue that excitement can do.
She knew what he wanted, she expected his call
She lay comfortably back on soft cushions and all.
His breathing was audible, slow and rhythmic
Sending thrills through her body no other could mimic.
"Is it in your hand?" She coyly asked him
He affirmed and assured her his readiness urged him
To proceed slowly but with eager abandon
His other hand moving in perfect rhythm.
His excited gasps drew her into the game
He screamed out " Yes!" and his breathing changed
To a frenzied rush. Her body arched, her lips parted.
As he whispered softly he's only just started.
His excitement grew and tension mounted
His hand moved faster, the moments counted.
"Yes!" she cried into the 'phone
as he hoarsely whispered, almost a groan….
"Two twenty's, two tens, two set for life…
One five and one fifty…"
"Let's try again again next week, hon'
these scratchit' games are really fun."
Copyright; BarBaRa (The Essence) Brickland
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Private Play
When I was a little boy
Snuggled safe in bed
They said I should play with my soldiers
If I wanted to get ahead
I looked down at my soldiers
Generals and Majors and said
Sod the higher orders
(And I played with my privates instead!)
Copyright; Alan Corkish
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Random Thoughts on Passing Gas
Farts are our friends.....immediate ease;
They're sort of like a rectal sneeze.
Lightning's a meterological wonder,
But angel farts produces thunder.
An apple a day keeps the doctor away,
But a bowl of beans keeps the world at bay.
Gas passed in silence is an expartee;
Who's the farter, and who's the fartee?
Dinosaur farts were damn distinct;
That's what made 'em become ex-stinked.
Anarctic penquins are cool because
Their farts don't smell until they thaws.
You now have my views, and nothing more
On this flatulent Flag Day, '94.
Copyright; Pete Graf
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Scotland
I want to go to Scotland
I want to find a man
with hairy legs and chest and face
no blond, blue eyes and tan
with muscles on his muscles
a strapping kind of lad
with kilt and great big sporran
that would make me glad!
I want to go to Scotland
I've been practising the dances
I can fling my leg right up to here
that should improve my chances
I do a real mean highland fling
I can strathspey, jig and reel
What I may lack in timing though
I make up for in feel
I want to go to Scotland
right to the northern bits
I know I'll freeze my bum off
and probably my tits
I'd certainly be noticed
that funny Aussie lass
who came to Scotland for a man
and left without her ass
I want to go to Scotland
Billy Connolly's so great
if just half the lads are like that
I'm sure to find a mate
and if he turns out boring
and has no sense of fun
I'll just pop over to Ireland
I'm not fussy where he's from
I want to go to Scotland
to roll among the heather
with Geordie, Bill or Robbie
or Glen or Tom ...whoever!
I want to meet the real men
The ones who play bagpipes
who breathe through nose & ears as well
that could keep me up all night!
I want to go to Scotland
to find my true soul mate
I hope they've not all moved away
I'm probably too late
I'd love to marry a Scottish man
and live inside a castle
though when I think of cleaning the thing
It's probably not worth the hassle
I want to go to Scotland
I'll go sometime this year
although I need to work a while
on letting go of fear
it's not the cold that scares me
colder places I have felt
I'm more afraid of what I'll find
when I look under their kilt
I've heard they keep their weapons there
a dagger, spear or club
and they keep them polished, shiny
and they'll offer you a rub
I don't think I could handle it
the pressure I mean, the fear...
No, I think I'll settle for an Aussie Boy
and stay put over here.
Copyright; Arcadia Flynn
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Square Dance Time
Take your partners by the hand,
Two fat ladies, or a man.
Don't sit down there anymore,
Get your arse up on the floor.
Stick your finger up her nose,
Whip her bottom with a hose.
Swing the girl round and round,
Make that stupid 'YEEEHAAR' sound.
Grab your partner by her tits,
Look in her hair for some nits.
Poke a finger in her ear,
Send her to the bar for some beer.
Kiss her left cheek, then her right,
Pull up her pants and say, 'ALL RIGHT!"
Swing the girl a round and round,
Make that silly 'YEEEHAAARR' sound.
Now change partners, one - two - three,
Throw all your money up at me.
Slap that Frenchman on his face,
Then jump into a pillow case.
Swing the girl a-round and round,
Make that silly 'YEEEHAAARRR' sound.
Slap her face with a haddock,
Tell her she looks like Fanny Craddock.
Punch the person nearest you,
Tell them they smell like the loo.
Swing the girl round and round,
And make that crazy 'YEEEEHHHAAAARRR!" sound.
Pull the laces out your shoe,
Do a fart and follow through.
Swing a cat above your head,
Then go and paint the mans' hearse red.
Take off your clothes and have some fun,
Fill your mouth with a sticky bun.
Swing that woman round and round,
Make that wicked 'YEEEHHAAAARR' sound.
Stick your head up someones dress,
Spill your beer and make a mess.
Trip up the person on your right,
Challenge your granny to a fight.
Swing your partner round and round,
And make that evil 'YYYEEEEEHHAAAARRRR' sound.
Tickle yourself until you laugh,
Drink all the water in your bath.
Go to the moon, and then come back,
Try to put an elephant into a sack.
Swing your partner around and round,
And make that stupid 'YYYEEEEEHHAAAAARRRRRRRR' sound!
Copyright; Topoke
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Tending The Flock
Last Sunday our pastor, the Right Rev'rend Wickham,
Said, "As for guest speakers, I know how to pick 'em!
The ladies, most surely, will come in vast numbers;
Don't worry, however, I know where to stick 'em."
"And where will you stick us?" asked Deaconess Tew,
"Will we ladies have seating that gives a good view?"
"Well, of course!" Rev'rend Wickham said, nodding his head,
"I'll stick ev'ry lady in her special pew!"
"Now, hold on a minute!" cried Brother John Biddle,
"I think we should ponder this matter a little!
You'll not stick my wife in her pew without me,
And, besides, I like sticking her here in the middle."
"That's fine," said the rev'rend, "please stick your own wife
In a place that is pleasing and won't cause her strife."
Sister Biddle then shouted "But I need a change!
In the middle he's stuck me for most of my life!"
The Right Rev'rend Wickham said, "Is there a motion
For sticking the ladies in spots of devotion
So they can enjoy our guest speaker next Sunday?
If not, then I'll stick 'em where I take a notion."
"I move," spoke the sweet voice of saintly Miss Vicker,
"That you, Rev'rend Wickham, should be the spot picker
For sticking us ladies who know from your visits
That you are the Lord's very own 'lady sticker.'"
Copyright; Travis Brasell
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Thanksgiving Day
"He laid her on the table
So white, clean and bare.
His forehead wet with beads of sweat
He rubbed her here and there.
He touched her neck and then her breast
And then drooling, felt her thigh.
The slit was wet and all was set,
He gave a joyous cry.
The hole was wide... he looked inside
All was dark and murky.
He rubbed his hands and stretched his arms
And then he stuffed the turkey!"
__________________________________________________ _______________
That For The Blokes
Now I'm old and feeble,
And my pilot light is out,
What used to be my sex appeal
Is now my water spout.
'Twas a time, when of it's own accord
From my trousers it would spring,
But now I have a part time job
To find the blasted thing.
I used to be embarrased
To make that thing behave,
For every single morning
It would stand and watch me shave.
But as old age approaches
It sure gives me the blues,
To see it hang it's withered head
And watch me tie my shoes.
__________________________________________________ _______________
The Boob Poem
For years and years they told me,
Be careful of your breasts.
Don't ever squeeze or bruise them,
And give them monthly tests.
So I heeded all their warnings,
And protected them by law.
Guarded them very carefully,
And I always wore my bra.
After 30 years of astute care,
My gyno, Dr. Pruitt,
Said I should get a Mammogram,
"O.K.," I said, "let's do it."
"Stand up here real close" she said,
(She got my boob in line),
"And tell me when it hurts," she said,
"Ah yes! Right there, that's fine."
She stepped upon a pedal.
I could not believe my eyes!
A plastic plate came slamming down,
My hooter's in a vise!
My skin was stretched and mangled,
From underneath my chin.
My poor boob was being squashed,
To Swedish Pancake thin.
Excruciating pain I felt,
Within it's vise-like grip.
A prisoner in this vicious thing,
My poor defenseless tit!
"Take a deep breath" she said to me,
Who does she think she's kidding?!?
My chest is mashed in her machine
And woozy I am getting.
"There, that's good," I heard her say,
(The room was slowly swaying.)
"Now, let's have a go at the other one."
Have mercy, I was praying.
It squeezed me from both up and down,
It squeezed me from both sides.
I'll bet SHE'S never had this done,
To HER tender little hide.
Next time that they make me do this,
I will request a blindfold,
I have no wish to see again,
My knockers getting steamrolled.
If I had no problem when I came in,
I surely have one now.
If there had been a cyst in there,
It would have gone "ker-pow"!
This machine was created by a man,
Of this, I have no doubt.
I'd like to stick his balls in there,
And see how THEY come out.
__________________________________________________ _______________
The Bush Romantic
As I stick my sweaty arm up the vagina of a cow ...
... I think of your moist, warm lips ... and wish you were here now.
The warm and friendly feeling of a cow turd on the ground ...
... Reminds me of your gentle warmth I feel all year 'round.
The stinking, filthy carcass of a rotting feral pig ...
... Bloated in the sunlight ... like my love for you, grows big.
The twitching, wobbly spleen of a freshly slaughtered sheep ...
... Reminds me of your lovely breasts - oh, it nearly makes me weep.
The fresh ejected vomit of a cattle dog that's crook ...
... Makes me ponder on the tasty pots of stew that you can cook.
As my lovely snow white stallion drops a rancid, roaring fart,
I'm reminded of the music that is played within your heart.
The rattling, untuned motor of my rusty Valiant ute,
Jog my memory of your lovely voice, conversational and cute.
The thudding of a turd in the outhouse dunny tin ...
Makes me think of your soft footsteps, to the bedroom, coming in.
The shrieking of a cockatoo being swallowed by a snake,
Gets me joyful, gets me smiling, It's like the laughter that you make.
When I trip over at the spray-race in the dip and piss and slop ...
... I recall all those loving tears that you frequently drop.
As I hawk a giant boogy up, and spit it in the dust ...
... I cannot help but feel your slippery, luscious lust.
Oh, my darling, I'm your drake, and with a bit of LUCK ...
... I'd love to jump upon you and ...
and ...
and ...
let you be my ...
... female duck!!
Copyright; Mark Feldman - 30th December 1998
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The Clone Wars
Ok, I will admit it, no, I am not very deep
So I do not understand much in this life!
But when I read of Dolly, and how they cloned a sheep,
I could sense that it would only lead to strife!
All the Welshmen would be queuing up (Perhaps some Aussies too)
To have a copy made that they could keep.
I expect that they would pay whatever payment there was due
(Even if that figure might seem pretty steep!)
For when a man has found himself his true and perfect love
His one delight, his pride and joy, his "dolly",
Then clearly this consumes him, and all he's thinking of
Is clouded by his one pursuit of folly!
So if, as I suspect it might, demand outstripped supply,
And the sheep were rationed out to those in line,
Then all hell could be unleashed as all the men began to cry
When they couldn't get the sheep of their design.
They would fight and they would argue; they would swear and bite and cuss
They would push and shove and kick and scratch and shunt.
There is no doubt that they would cause just one almighty fuss
As they tried to claw their way up to the front.
As the battles raged on fiercely they would have to mount a guard
To protect the cloners from the raging mob.
But as we know a lover, full of passion, can be hard,
And so stopping them at all would be a job.
But this is just conjecture since it hasn't happened yet
This clone war's simply raging in my head.
But one day soon I think it might- in fact I'll take a bet
That it wont be long 'til streets are running red.
You see, I have just heard the news that makes my blood run cold
They now have cloned another little beast.
And this time you had better get out your reserves of gold
To purchase yours when it has been released.
Yes here it is; the cause of wars since first the world began,
That led to discontent on every side.
Since the serpent tempted Eve and she in turn beguiled the man
There has always been a pussy at his side!
And now that they are cloning these it doesn't bode too well
For the future of the world, it's plain to see
It wont be long until, I fear, we are heading down to hell
With a pussy at the front, I guarantee!
Copyright; MasterRevelation
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The Fairy At The Bottom Of Our Street
Down the bottom of our street
Where the dogs and cats run free
I was walking and whistling
When a fairy said to me
'You look lovely, you look handsome,
Would you like to make a wish?'
I thought just for a moment
Of the things to bring me bliss
Maybe houses, lots of money,
New clothes for my wife Mary
'I would definitely want to'
Said I to the Fairy
He was a proper little fellow,
Green tunic, bright red cap
Leather belt and tight trousers,
Then he gave his hands a clap!
'You must tell me what your wish is'
He spoke those words so sweet
And the silver buckles sparkled
On the boots upon his feet
'Why I would wish for money,
Lots of ale and so much MORE!'
The fairy stood and listened
Softly staring at the floor
'Yes! your wish Sir SHALL be granted'
The fairy said with glee
And I said a prayer to heaven
So glad to be just me
'But there is one condition,
Something you must do he said
I wondered and I pondered,
As the Fairy shook his head
Then he cuddled up much closer
And I dreamed of ale and bliss
'You look lovely, you look handsome,
Now give me a kiss'
Said the fairy and I thought
About the money and the wish
'Oh go on then' I answered
As he puckered up with glee
Now no one is perfect
And certainly not me
As I fastened up my trousers
And walked back up the street
I turned and heard a giggle,
That made me stop my feet
'How old are you fine fellow?'
The fairy gave a shout
'A little over forty' I said 'Or thereabout'
I could see that he was smiling,
He wore a silly grin
Then I knew that I'd been suckered,
Yes I'd been taken in
Now people there's a moral,
A lesson for you all
If you chance to meet a fairy,
If the leprechauns do call
If you're tempted by the goblins
And you dare to make a wish
Beware the little fairy
Who tries to take a kiss
Years have passed since I met him,
Where the cats and dogs run free
But I never will forget
What that fairy did to me
My wish? Well I'm still waiting,
Money is quite sparse
And despite all my wishing
All I got was a sore arse.
Copyright; John G. Sutton
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The Indian And The Paper
At the Folk Fest' in Woodford,
In the store, whilst buying butter,
I met this Indian bloke,
Who came in from Calcutta.
He asked of the shopkeeper,
When at the counter he did stop,
"Do you have toilet paper,
Here in your lovely shop?"
"Yes, I have lots of brands,
On my shelves, mate, look right here.
I have Softly's and I have Sorbent."
But he said, "Oh no, too dear!"
"I need the most inexpensive,
That you have in your store,
For I come from Calcutta,
And I am very, very poor."
"Yes, I think I can accommodate you,"
The shopkeeper then did say,
"I have No-Name brand paper,
And it's real cheap, mate, eh !"
He said, "Oh, that will be the one,
I am very pleased to see,
Give to me your No-Name paper,
And I'll take it home with me."
But alas, just three days later,
He came back in a fit,
"Here, take back your John Wayne paper,
I am bloody sick of it!"
"No, hang on mate, settle down,
It's not John Wayne, you see,
This is No-Name toilet paper,
That you've given back to me."
"Oh, no, you are very wrong,"
The Calcutta man replied,
"This is John Wayne paper,
That you sold to me" he cried.
"For I swear by my elephants,
And on the Bible of the Gideons,
It is rough, and it is tough,
And it takes no shit off Indians !!"
Copyright; Mark Feldman
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The Lousy Rotten Bastard!
Copyright; Jacqueline Hilary Bridle
From her book 'Just Wait Till I Grow Up!'
Chorus
You lousy rotten bastard,
You hate-full hairy git,
You've gone and done a job on me,
And you don't give a shit!
You flirt with all my girlfriends,
And then you fart in bed.
Your manners are disgusting,
I could kick you in the head.
The children have been talking,
And they think you're quite mad
I don't hide the truth from them,
I tell them your plain bad.
Chorus...
You promised love and roses,
You promised me the best.
And now you've shown your true colours,
By shitting in our nest.
Well now things are changing,
I have finally seen the light.
I'm leaving with the Milkman,
You' re such an ugly sight.
You're a lousy rotten bastard,
A hateful hairy git.
I've gone and done a job on you,
and I don't give a shit.
Copyright; Jacqueline Hilary Bridle
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The Mammagram
I was booked to have a mammogram,
on a bus that comes around.
I waited ten minutes at the stop
outside the football ground.
Thought I might have missed it
when it pulled up at the kerb.
I mimed "Is this for the mammogram test?"
He nodded, I don't think he heard.
I jumped on with me clean, flesh-colour bra,
'Cross Your Heart' with a double-D tag.
Changed 'em while waiting outside for the bus,
stuffed the dirty ones in me bag.
It was getting late and raining.
Time to eat, and I was dying of thirst.
So I started to undress as I moved down the aisle.
After all ... I was the first.
The windows were misted over,
no curtains or blinds anywhere.
Tho' the destination board did say 'Private',
I was nervous 'cos me top half was bare.
Awaiting with arms folded,
it was only eight degrees.
I looked around for equipment ...
that could do the job with ease.
They have to be pressed at different angles.
Bit like lemons squeezed over a trout.
The only thing I could see ... that might work
were the doors you come in and go out.
It was difficult 'cos they were either end,
impossible to reach.
Didn't matter how I stood,
I couldn't get one in each.
I rang the bell ... for attention.
By then I could have cried.
I did when the doors flew open
to a roaring cheer outside.
I was so embarrassed ...
I looked a sight ... you're not wrong,
standing there in front of forty men
without a scrap of makeup on.
The driver shouted, "I don't know what your game is.
You'd better get dressed.
I'm hired to get this football team ...
to Manly's ground for the test."
Some of 'em vomited.
I was touched by the others.
They thought it might bring 'em luck
for the game against The Brothers.
We won by seven hundred and fifty points,
I'm now the team's mascot.
Touched before every game
whether they're playing or not.
Copyright; Shirley Friend
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The Pap Smear
Excuse me! - excuse me! - excuse me!!!
Yes it was that T.V. commercial that said...Pap Smears are the answer,
Have one now, get one quick, and you won't get cervical cancer.
So I toddles off to the doctor, I've never had one before,
So when he said to take off me nickers, I wonders, what ever for.
Then he orders me up on a couch, ties me up by my knees,
A cold breeze went right up my arse, and my fanny began to sneeze.
He produces a metal instrument, covered all over in jell,
He said "I'm going to insert this inside you, if it hurts just give me a yell."
Next he twiddled a knob, - not his,
To make it open up wide - the metal thing,
Then he took out a torch and he had a good look inside.
After, he turned to his trolley, said he'd be back in a tick,
Now can you imagine my horror when he returned with a lollypop stick.
Oh I thought these doctors, are getting kinkier by far,
Do you know what he did with his lollypop stick, before he put it into a jar.
Well that was when tragedy struck us, I kicked and I bucked and I winced,
And the doctor slipped from the foot of the bed, and we haven't seen him since.
His boots was all that was left of him, left at the foot of my bed,
With his name written on cardboard, just above my head.
Oh well, they bury those pharos in pyramids, nobles in great marble tombs,
But I've got some flaming gynecologist, buried somewhere in my womb
Copyright; Jacqueline H Bridle
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Timbuktu
The finals of the National Poetry Contest last year came down to two finalists. One was a Duke University Law School graduate from an uppercrust family -- well-bred, well-connected, and all that goes with it. The other finalist was a redneck from Southeast Alabama. The rules of the contest required each finalist to compose a four-line poem in one minute or less, and the poem had to contain the word Timbuktu".
The Duke graduate went first. About thirty seconds after the clock started he jumped up and recited the following poem:
Slowly across the desert sand
Trekked the dusty caravan.
Men on camels, two by two
Destination -Timbuktu.
The audience went wild!!!
How, they wondered, could the redneck top that?! The clock started again and the redneck sat in silent thought. Finally, in the last few seconds, he jumped up and yelled:
Tim and me, a-huntin' went.
Met three whores in a pop-up tent.
They was three, we was two,
So I bucked one and Timbuktu.
__________________________________________________ _______________
Udders
If women had udders
and cows had breasts
what would be shown in The Sun?
Would it be Daisy
the feisty heifer
boasting 98-100-91?
Would it be Sharon
the Croydon belle
With udder attached to her sternum?
She'd have admiring bullocks
throughout the land
though four-teated Sharon'd spurn 'em.
Would Farmer's Monthly
become a jazz mag
top shelf stuff not for sale to the nippers?
Would Playboy become
a livestock guide
a rattling good read for sheep dippers?
This fascination
for lactiferous glands
raises questions I believe worth pursuing.
Who was the first man
to milk a cow
and what did he think he was doing?
Copyright; Stephen Cree 2001
__________________________________________________ _______________
Waxing Lyrical
It can be shocking, the things you view when switching on the old Tv,
There's gardening, sport and drama there for all to see.
With fashion tips and makeovers and various things cosmetic
Most subjects are revealed from the usual to esoteric!
But switching on the other day made me stop and stare
For peering right back at me was springy pubic hair.
The topic of the show was about female thoughts and whims
Covering the subject (excuse the pun) of bald or hairy quims.
This subject was new to me; I really had no notion
Of the choice between the wax, razor blade or pungent potion.
It seems the women of the world really do appear to care,
As they ponder on the choices, leave it hairy or strip it bare!
Whilst it seems that man's chin needs a frequent trim
One questions can the same apply, to a womans quim?
Imagine being very brave, not the least bit chary
And letting loose those follicles, leaving pussy thick and hairy?
This statement's made in isolation, creating thoughts of insulation
As it conjures up the weirdest thought; one you may find find scarey
Girls parading in woollen knickers, just like the Rastafari!
Picture trendy double knit knicks looking like colourful hats
Covering those gorgeous, sexy but sweaty twats ...
Twat is such a horrid word, with no promise of sunny climes
But as you will appreciate, it's one that clearly rhymes.
Here's a further surreal suggestion for one and all to ponder,
Imagine hair extensions complete with beads, as worn by Stevie Wonder
My musings are disrupted by the thought of a hairy gorgon
Trying hard to do her thing on Little Stevie's organ.
This topic is a varied one; my ideas are becoming lax,
Would I prefer the razor to the slapping on of wax?
Bald or hairy I have learnt in the process of geting older,
Matters not to man nor beast, but to the eye of the beholder.
So I remain confused, mixed up, monitoring the subject from every angle,
As I ponder about the G spot, sex and love as I picture that erotic triangle.
The subject is a quirky one but I hope you will agree,
That bald or hairy quims are always a lovely sight to see!
Copyright; JOHN LOWERY
__________________________________________________ _______________
William's Warning
Say I to thee, dearest, beware
Of men like me who to thee fair
Wilt give thee a rose
Whilst shedding our clothes
For more than our souls doth we bare.
But shouldst thy fair hand reach to pick
Thy rose, dear, thou mustn't be quick
To pluck, else in kind,
Thou wilt surely find
In thy tend'rest fingers a prick.
Copyright; Travis Brasell
__________________________________________________ _____________________________
A Guy's Job
A guy sticks his location,
In a girl's destinstion,
To increase the population,
For the next generation.
Do you get my explanation?
Or do you need a demonstration?
__________________________________________________ _____________________________
BACKFIRE
It happened twenty years ago while travelling interstate
Looking for a shearing job - the night was getting late.
It was me and John Johansen that was driving through the fog,
We was lost and getting nowhere, then, we bottomed in a bog.
"We'd better leg it mate," says John, "I think it's gunna rain,
I'm sure I saw a letterbox a mile back up the lane."
We walked and found the letterbox and through the gloom we saw
A light inside a farmhouse so we fronted at the door.
Our knock was quickly answered by a lady with a lamp,
"Whatcha want?" she muttered, so I said. "A place to camp.
We're cold and wet and hungry missus, could you see us right?
We only want a nice dry bed to sleep in for the night."
"You can't sleep here! I'm on me own! I got no extra beds!
There's straw and lucerne hay inside the feedroom by the sheds.
Make yerselves a bed in there and take this as a warning,
Don't hang around termorrer, youse leave early in the morning!"
The straw was soft, the hay was warm, John snuffed out like a light
And I'll admit I had a very pleasant time that night.
At six a.m. the old girl's voice came rattling through the shed.
"There's eggs and bacon at the house and tea and toast," she said.
We had a bonzer brekky and we couldn't eat no more,
The old duck's attitude to us had softened, that's for sure.
She went and got her tractor and a length of bullock chain
And pulled us from the bog and got us on our way again.
Well, twelve months later, Johnny phoned. " I want to talk to you!
Remember that old farmer girl?" "Yes John," I said, "I do."
"That night when I was sleepin', did you sneak out of the shed
And go and wake our hostess up and climb into her bed?"
"Well Johnny, cobber, yes, I did," I answered, filled with shame.
"And furthermore, you cunnin' rat, you gave my bloody name!"
"Well, yes, I sorta might've done, but you're a decent bloke,
Now you've found my secret John, I hope you'll get the joke."
"Yeah! Very flamin' funny! But - I s'pose ya' gotta laugh,
A joke like that is pretty good, too clever mate, by half.
But - I don't mind," said Johnny, " Cos I'm rather glad you see.
The old girl died three months ago and left her farm to me!"
Copyright; Milton Taylor 2001
__________________________________________________ _____________________________
Big Bad Barbie
I've been considering what life's like for Barbie,
The bitch has everything she doesn't need,
A genuine living doll ... with baggage,
Prostituted for K-TEL's greed.
To represent less than five percent of womankind,
Yet still be a role model for the young,
Have a twelve-inch waist, forty two-inch bust,
Be spoilt, indulged and highly strung.
I'd be wanton to be like Barbie,
The pin-up of playful men,
Action figures vying for my affection,
And (after considerable effort) winning it ... now and then,
My company always sought after,
For camping, boating or horse rides,
The recipient of continual expensive gifts,
To ensure my presence at their sides.
I want to be like Barbie,
Accessorised to the hilt,
Handbags ... jewellery... shoes ... makeup ... clothes,
All provided free of guilt,
I want to be more flexible,
A Barbie with bendy elbows and knees,
Because mine are beginning to stiffen with age,
I'm becoming more robotic by increasing degrees.
I want to be a life-size Barbie,
But I've probably left my run too late,
By the time that I've finished with cosmetic surgery,
I will have passed my "use-by" date,
I could have all of the cellulite sucked out of my thighs,
And recycled onto my chest instead,
Lengthen my legs by eight inches,
But what would I do about my bloody head?
Although ... if I really was like Barbie,
I'd never enjoy another hearty meal,
Forfeit pleasures of the flesh,
Maybe I'd forget how wonderful good sex can feel.
I wouldn't have any nipples,
To tease, lick or suck,
I'd have a smooth crotch ... closed smiling mouth,
No luscious warm wet openings to ... fill (hmmm).
And if I truly was like Barbie,
Would you ever hear a word that I'd say?
Overwhelmed by my eye pleasing packaging,
Not renowned as an audio-visual display.
If I talked ... would you listen,
Value my opinions ... cling to my words?
A combination of intellect and beauty,
A disturbing Reality ... Don't be absurd
Copyright; Robyn Scott
__________________________________________________ _____________________________
Go **** yourself (Meem 2)
I've found the perfect partner
We're in love, it's plain to see
I'm having sex with my clone
Yes, I'm in love with ME!
We never, ever fight or shout
We know just what we want
Yes, we're into textual intercourse
(And we both use the same font!)
And, as we're both the same person
(and, this is worth repeating)
The wife cannot divorce us either
'Cos, technically, it's not CHEATING!
Paul (and Paul)
Copyright; Paul Bearer
__________________________________________________ _____________________________
Estranged
I accept that I'm abnormal,
That is ... different from the rest,
Unlike most other robots,
I put normality to the test,
Being born a female,
Was definitely not my choice,
My gender has always been a hurdle,
But I like my singing voice.
With tattoos on my shaven head,
Of my Staffies ... left and right,
There is no doubt when threatened,
Which bitch will actually bite.
I know I'm not a Lesbian,
Although I've known a few,
And I've slept with enough women,
To negate that point of view.
But you'd have to cut off more than my hair,
For me to lose my interest in men,
Who generally don't look my way,
But I have sex now and then.
It's sometimes lonely when you're different,
But I'm prepared to pay the price,
Because to lose my individuality,
Would be far too great a sacrifice.
Copyright; Robyn Scott
__________________________________________________ _____________________________
Fornication
SEX is a TRANSACTION,
With emotional currency,
You're either lucky or an arsehole,
If you're getting it for free,
Some are prepared to barter flesh,
For company or affection,
A house, a car, a family,
Money or protection,
When morality is attached to
Guilt can reduce the pleasure,
Whereby with uninhibited
Comes ecstasy without measure.
There are those whom believe that, SEX is just for procreation,
While there are others for whom it is, Their favourite recreation,
There are people who only have,
SEX over the phone,
And others who are happy,
To do it on their own,
There are some who really get off,
On lingerie and leather,
And those who simply prefer,
To masturbate together.
Copyright; Robyn Scott
__________________________________________________ _____________________________
