In a restroom by the highway,
lives a man named Rufus Meyers,
leering at the onramp driveway,
list'ning for the sound of tires.
When he hears a car approaching,
Rufus drools in pure elation,
once the car begins unloading,
he prepares for celebration.
"Need to use the bathroom, Sandy?"
asks a man while Rufus blushes,
"Yes, Lamar, I'm glad one's handy"
says his wife, then off she rushes.
Rufus flushes all the toilets,
plugs the sinks, then activates them,
heats some water as to boil it,
tea would be his ultimatum.
Sandy nears the restroom entrance,
stops, then jokes with trepidation,
"Sweetie, I beseech your presence,
this looks like a rapist station."
Rufus hides inside the shower,
overjoyed to have new callers,
he'd been counting down the hours
since his last: two Montrealers.
Rufus watches as they enter,
sheer confusion on their faces,
running water left and center,
toilets, sinks and stagnant spaces.
"Sandy, do you feel uneasy?"
speaks Lamar in apprehension,
"Yes, Lamar, my stomach's queasy"
utters Sandy, filled with tension.
As the couple starts escaping,
Rufus leaps out from the shower,
nostrils flared and mouth a'gaping,
he professes with a glower:
"HI, I'M RUFUS MEYERS, GOT IT?
WOULD YOU LIKE SOME TEA THIS EVENING?
CHLORINE PUFFS? A GIN AND TONIC?
YEA, BUT HARK! THE WATER'S STEAMING!"
Screaming both in stupefaction,
Sandy shocked, Lamar in panic,
have no time to give reaction,
Rufus starts to get more frantic:
"LOOK, YOU TWO, I'VE RUNNING WATER...
ISN'T THAT THE QUEEN'S PAJAMAS?
HERE'S A PICTURE OF MY DAUGHTER,
SHE'S GOT THIRTY BABY MAMAS!"
"Please don't kill us, Rufus Meyers!"
Sandy cries in desperation,
"We will do what you desire
to avoid an altercation!"
Rufus just ignores her, saying:
"DANCE WITH ME DECREPIT DANCES!
LOOK AT HOW MY HIPS ARE SWAYING...
YOU'RE AROUSED BY MY ADVANCES!"
Brave Lamar attempts to reason,
hoping he'll get through to Rufus,
though his social skills are seasoned,
all attempts are vain and useless.
"WELL, YOU TWO, IT'S BEEN A DOOZY!"
Rufus tells the two unsettled,
then, deranged as Gary Busey,
reaches for the boiling kettle.
Rufus chugs the scalding water,
laughing through his tortured screaming,
then he grabs a metal augur,
drills his cheeks with water seeping.
Sandy and Lamar, confounded,
flee the restroom in a hustle,
horrified and quite astounded
that there hadn't been a tussle.
Lying on the floor and wheezing,
covered now in burns and blisters,
Rufus says aloud while bleeding:
"GOSH, THOSE TWO WERE SWELL AND CHIPPER!"
Thursday, August 4, 2011
Tuesday, August 2, 2011
"Sexual Surgery"
Scalpels, syringes, speculums, scissors,
sordid sexual sabres slice skin,
sawing sinews for subsequent sutures,
open wounds,
gaping gobs of glam'rous gore,
generate gooey genital gravy,
filthy flayed flesh follows fellatio,
while fondling fingers fuck fallopian fissures,
my blood-drenched penis,
plunging into plasma,
penetrates a pulsating pancreas...
carnal climax,
combines cum with coagulated crimson,
quelling chaos,
causing calmness...
...was it as good for you as it was for me?
sordid sexual sabres slice skin,
sawing sinews for subsequent sutures,
open wounds,
gaping gobs of glam'rous gore,
generate gooey genital gravy,
filthy flayed flesh follows fellatio,
while fondling fingers fuck fallopian fissures,
my blood-drenched penis,
plunging into plasma,
penetrates a pulsating pancreas...
carnal climax,
combines cum with coagulated crimson,
quelling chaos,
causing calmness...
...was it as good for you as it was for me?
"Tompkins & The Slug" (Iambic Pentameter)
Young Tompkins is a little boy of eight,
who sports a red and blue propellor cap,
a fair young sprout with skin akin to milk,
imagination active as can be.
He sits in peace upon his bedroom floor,
while playing with his marbles and toy trains,
enveloped in the wonder of his youth,
he listens to his Mum & Daddy scream.
"Don't make me fucking smack you, Eloise!"
yells Daddy from the kitchen in a rage,
"You call yourself a man, you flacid pig?"
retorts his mum as dishes fall and crash.
Now Little Tompkins starts to hum and sing,
a hymn from school that he could ne'er forget,
of Jesus and forgiveness in rebirth,
and happiness for every man on earth.
The volume of the yelling elevates,
and Tompkins puts his fingers in his ears,
he tries to halt the twitching of his eye,
then all a'sudden calls to mind the slug.
He saunters to his closet in a daze,
then opens up the door to fetch the box,
and once returned to sitting on the floor,
he carefully removes its wooden lid.
He gazes at the garden slug inside,
the which he found in Mummy's planter box,
they often nibble on her daffodils,
and Tompkins loves to catch them unaware.
He reaches underneath his tiny bed,
to seize the shaker filled with table salt,
and sprinkles then a palmful in his hand,
while tears of sim'lar salt form in his eyes.
"Alright, that's it, you've driven me to this!"
He sifts the salt and pours it on the slug,
"I'm sorry, Eloise, put down the gun!"
the slug emits a tortured, noiseless scream.
He smiles in wonder at the shriv'ling beast,
then giggles while he fights to hold back tears,
a gunshot echoes through the floor below,
and Tompkins, box in hand, departs his room.
He daintily descends the wooden stairs,
then walks into the kitchen with the box,
to show his bleeding Dad and frightened Mum:
"I salted this for both of you to see."
who sports a red and blue propellor cap,
a fair young sprout with skin akin to milk,
imagination active as can be.
He sits in peace upon his bedroom floor,
while playing with his marbles and toy trains,
enveloped in the wonder of his youth,
he listens to his Mum & Daddy scream.
"Don't make me fucking smack you, Eloise!"
yells Daddy from the kitchen in a rage,
"You call yourself a man, you flacid pig?"
retorts his mum as dishes fall and crash.
Now Little Tompkins starts to hum and sing,
a hymn from school that he could ne'er forget,
of Jesus and forgiveness in rebirth,
and happiness for every man on earth.
The volume of the yelling elevates,
and Tompkins puts his fingers in his ears,
he tries to halt the twitching of his eye,
then all a'sudden calls to mind the slug.
He saunters to his closet in a daze,
then opens up the door to fetch the box,
and once returned to sitting on the floor,
he carefully removes its wooden lid.
He gazes at the garden slug inside,
the which he found in Mummy's planter box,
they often nibble on her daffodils,
and Tompkins loves to catch them unaware.
He reaches underneath his tiny bed,
to seize the shaker filled with table salt,
and sprinkles then a palmful in his hand,
while tears of sim'lar salt form in his eyes.
"Alright, that's it, you've driven me to this!"
He sifts the salt and pours it on the slug,
"I'm sorry, Eloise, put down the gun!"
the slug emits a tortured, noiseless scream.
He smiles in wonder at the shriv'ling beast,
then giggles while he fights to hold back tears,
a gunshot echoes through the floor below,
and Tompkins, box in hand, departs his room.
He daintily descends the wooden stairs,
then walks into the kitchen with the box,
to show his bleeding Dad and frightened Mum:
"I salted this for both of you to see."
"Stop Talking About Your Cervix, Mrs. Worthington!"
Oh, Mrs. Worthington,
I do enjoy your company,
you are a delight to behold,
your wisdom is exceeded only
by your charm and grace,
and you wear the most enchanting frocks.
However,
there is something I must mention,
a habit in which you engage,
that turns my guests away from their scones,
causes the Duke to scowl,
and has you the talk of Fleet Street.
You see, Mrs. Worthington,
though it pains me to convey,
I daresay you address your cervix
more often than is necessary,
and at a word,
in the most public of places.
I profess,
that Lord Coddington cares not
of how cylindrical it may be,
Count Felbrigg feigns interest
at the consistency of its mucus,
and Lady Huddleston,
despite being of similar age,
wishes not to discuss upsuck theory.
Having declared this,
I meant not to offend,
or to belittle your feminist notions,
but as a gentleman to a lady,
I must say:
"Stop talking about your cervix, Mrs. Worthington!"
I do enjoy your company,
you are a delight to behold,
your wisdom is exceeded only
by your charm and grace,
and you wear the most enchanting frocks.
However,
there is something I must mention,
a habit in which you engage,
that turns my guests away from their scones,
causes the Duke to scowl,
and has you the talk of Fleet Street.
You see, Mrs. Worthington,
though it pains me to convey,
I daresay you address your cervix
more often than is necessary,
and at a word,
in the most public of places.
I profess,
that Lord Coddington cares not
of how cylindrical it may be,
Count Felbrigg feigns interest
at the consistency of its mucus,
and Lady Huddleston,
despite being of similar age,
wishes not to discuss upsuck theory.
Having declared this,
I meant not to offend,
or to belittle your feminist notions,
but as a gentleman to a lady,
I must say:
"Stop talking about your cervix, Mrs. Worthington!"
"Menstrual Mileage"
Expect ye an ocean, prepare for a flood,
I've gallons and GALLONS of period blood!
Extracted by siphon from menstruating bud,
consistency sim'lar to bubbling mud.
I mix it with vodka, i spread it on toast,
I use it as glaze while I'm cooking a roast,
I serve it at parties when playing the host,
its taste is divine as the Holiest Ghost!
My menstrual supplier is quite a fair catch,
with pubic shenanigans grand and unmatch'd
whene'er she's prompted to open the hatch,
elixer spews forth from her gurgling snatch!
And lest ye be wary of vaginal ooze,
or gynecological greases transfused,
remember its functions beyond how its used....
now grab a vagina and spread the good news!
I've gallons and GALLONS of period blood!
Extracted by siphon from menstruating bud,
consistency sim'lar to bubbling mud.
I mix it with vodka, i spread it on toast,
I use it as glaze while I'm cooking a roast,
I serve it at parties when playing the host,
its taste is divine as the Holiest Ghost!
My menstrual supplier is quite a fair catch,
with pubic shenanigans grand and unmatch'd
whene'er she's prompted to open the hatch,
elixer spews forth from her gurgling snatch!
And lest ye be wary of vaginal ooze,
or gynecological greases transfused,
remember its functions beyond how its used....
now grab a vagina and spread the good news!
"Childbirth"
The joy of childbirth,
the beauty of babies,
the innocence of the newborn.
Spurting out of sweaty, gaping vaginas like machine gun bullets,
come forth wretched abominations,
screaming and writhing in confusion and stupidity.
They chew on your swollen, lactating breasts,
sucking your tainted milk,
vomiting acid and blood.
Maternal instincts accentuate your inexplicable link with this THING,
your little bundle of joy,
for whom you would disembowel your best friend,
and tear the arms off of another's child.
Insolent Hellspawn,
stealing your sleep and sanity,
ensuring the death of catharsis,
commencing eternal depression.
When the world ends,
your irradiated offspring,
will shriek as the soft, milky flesh is torn from its face,
and you will scream.
the beauty of babies,
the innocence of the newborn.
Spurting out of sweaty, gaping vaginas like machine gun bullets,
come forth wretched abominations,
screaming and writhing in confusion and stupidity.
They chew on your swollen, lactating breasts,
sucking your tainted milk,
vomiting acid and blood.
Maternal instincts accentuate your inexplicable link with this THING,
your little bundle of joy,
for whom you would disembowel your best friend,
and tear the arms off of another's child.
Insolent Hellspawn,
stealing your sleep and sanity,
ensuring the death of catharsis,
commencing eternal depression.
When the world ends,
your irradiated offspring,
will shriek as the soft, milky flesh is torn from its face,
and you will scream.
Tuesday, October 5, 2010
Sunday, October 3, 2010
"T'was The Week After Doomsday" (Parody)
T'was the week after doomsday, when all through the land,
not a creature was living, they'd all turned to sand,
the humans were hung from the bridges with snares,
a sign that the cannibals soon would be there.
The children were scared, hiding under their beds,
while visions of savagery danced through their heads,
and papa with his hacksaw, and I with my knife,
had devoured the brains of our dead neighbour's wife.
When up in the sky arose such an explosion:
a hydrogen bomb causing widespread corrosion,
away from the bunker I flew like a flash,
deciding to risk radiation and rash.
The moon on the breast of the fallout and dust,
gave the lustre of doomsday upon the earth's crust,
when, what to my curious eyes should emerge,
but a mutated man with a pestilent scourge!
With a torrent of foam from his mouth to his knees,
I knew in a moment he must be diseased,
I stabbed him to death as he fell with a thud,
then screamed in an orgy of organs and blood:
"Out, liver! out, kidneys! Out bladder and gall!
Out heart and intestines, the large and the small!
To the top of the spine as to sever the head!
Now fade away! Fade away! Fade away dead!"
As with flesh that before the great blasts decomposed,
when it meets with a skeleton scavenged by crows,
so up in the air did this man's organs fly,
with his corpse emptied out, and no life in his eyes.
And then, in an instant, I heard o'er the hill,
a small band of travelers ripe for the kill,
as I redrew my knife and admired their meat,
their commander was carefully scouring the street.
He was covered with boils, from his head to his toes,
and the clothes that he wore were a dead C.E.O.'s,
a bundle of rations were flung o'er his back,
and he looked like he'd once overseen Freddie Mac.
My mouth, how it watered, my stomach, how famished,
I wanted to turn this man into a sandwich,
with the drool on my chin dripping down to the soil,
my maniacal bloodlust had peaked at a boil.
The butt of my knife I held tight in my teeth,
as I swiftly charged after the trav'lers beneath,
the looks on their faces were scared and perplexed,
when I jumped on their leader and went for his neck.
He was gamy and firm, a right tasty old chap,
and I laughed as I ate him, despite being trapped,
his party encircled me, gathering round,
then beaten unconscious, I fell to the ground...
I spoke not a word as I woke in a daze,
tied up on a spit and encrusted with glaze,
when one of the travelers started a fire,
I knew my existence was soon to expire.
I sang to my slay in delirious pitches,
for my ravenous captors were real sons 'o bitches,
then proclaimed as I burned with my last dying breath:
"MERRY DOOMSDAY TO ALL, AND TO ALL A BLACK DEATH!"
not a creature was living, they'd all turned to sand,
the humans were hung from the bridges with snares,
a sign that the cannibals soon would be there.
The children were scared, hiding under their beds,
while visions of savagery danced through their heads,
and papa with his hacksaw, and I with my knife,
had devoured the brains of our dead neighbour's wife.
When up in the sky arose such an explosion:
a hydrogen bomb causing widespread corrosion,
away from the bunker I flew like a flash,
deciding to risk radiation and rash.
The moon on the breast of the fallout and dust,
gave the lustre of doomsday upon the earth's crust,
when, what to my curious eyes should emerge,
but a mutated man with a pestilent scourge!
With a torrent of foam from his mouth to his knees,
I knew in a moment he must be diseased,
I stabbed him to death as he fell with a thud,
then screamed in an orgy of organs and blood:
"Out, liver! out, kidneys! Out bladder and gall!
Out heart and intestines, the large and the small!
To the top of the spine as to sever the head!
Now fade away! Fade away! Fade away dead!"
As with flesh that before the great blasts decomposed,
when it meets with a skeleton scavenged by crows,
so up in the air did this man's organs fly,
with his corpse emptied out, and no life in his eyes.
And then, in an instant, I heard o'er the hill,
a small band of travelers ripe for the kill,
as I redrew my knife and admired their meat,
their commander was carefully scouring the street.
He was covered with boils, from his head to his toes,
and the clothes that he wore were a dead C.E.O.'s,
a bundle of rations were flung o'er his back,
and he looked like he'd once overseen Freddie Mac.
My mouth, how it watered, my stomach, how famished,
I wanted to turn this man into a sandwich,
with the drool on my chin dripping down to the soil,
my maniacal bloodlust had peaked at a boil.
The butt of my knife I held tight in my teeth,
as I swiftly charged after the trav'lers beneath,
the looks on their faces were scared and perplexed,
when I jumped on their leader and went for his neck.
He was gamy and firm, a right tasty old chap,
and I laughed as I ate him, despite being trapped,
his party encircled me, gathering round,
then beaten unconscious, I fell to the ground...
I spoke not a word as I woke in a daze,
tied up on a spit and encrusted with glaze,
when one of the travelers started a fire,
I knew my existence was soon to expire.
I sang to my slay in delirious pitches,
for my ravenous captors were real sons 'o bitches,
then proclaimed as I burned with my last dying breath:
"MERRY DOOMSDAY TO ALL, AND TO ALL A BLACK DEATH!"
Wednesday, September 29, 2010
"Luggage To Stuff"
Bergruntha, come quickly! Jerome, be advised!
Theres LUGGAGE TO STUFF in the witness's eyes!
His dilated pupils are quite over-sized,
so fetch me a suitcase and let's improvise!
His eyelids are open, his irises green,
his carry-on maxed out the weighing machine!
His punishment needs to be publicly seen,
we'll lube up his bags with a case of visine!
Bergruntha, the bonesaw! Jerome, the scotch tape!
This witness's eyeballs are driving me ape!
His face will soon take on a curious shape...
but that's what you get when you try to escape!
"So, what did he see?" you may question surprised,
"to warrant a bag being stuffed in his eyes?"
The answer, my friend, is as easy as pie:
He witnessed yours truly admiring his thighs.
If he had not seen me, if he had not cared,
he wouldn't be screaming and tied to a chair,
but something annoyed me, the way that he stared,
he thought I was gay...and it's not true, I swear!
Jerome and Bergruntha, for now and herein,
will help me absolve this young witness's sin,
for when we are through, he'll be full of chagrin,
and bags won't be under his eyes, they'll be in...
Theres LUGGAGE TO STUFF in the witness's eyes!
His dilated pupils are quite over-sized,
so fetch me a suitcase and let's improvise!
His eyelids are open, his irises green,
his carry-on maxed out the weighing machine!
His punishment needs to be publicly seen,
we'll lube up his bags with a case of visine!
Bergruntha, the bonesaw! Jerome, the scotch tape!
This witness's eyeballs are driving me ape!
His face will soon take on a curious shape...
but that's what you get when you try to escape!
"So, what did he see?" you may question surprised,
"to warrant a bag being stuffed in his eyes?"
The answer, my friend, is as easy as pie:
He witnessed yours truly admiring his thighs.
If he had not seen me, if he had not cared,
he wouldn't be screaming and tied to a chair,
but something annoyed me, the way that he stared,
he thought I was gay...and it's not true, I swear!
Jerome and Bergruntha, for now and herein,
will help me absolve this young witness's sin,
for when we are through, he'll be full of chagrin,
and bags won't be under his eyes, they'll be in...
Sunday, August 15, 2010
"Stenography Bus"
Distill your Saliva! Channel your lust!
Children, make way for Stenography Bus!
She liquefies infants to bottle their musk,
then siphons their blood into Styrofoam cups!
Children, make way for Stenography Bus!
She liquefies infants to bottle their musk,
then siphons their blood into Styrofoam cups!
Thursday, July 29, 2010
"That Calorpian Demon!"
I'll tell you about a Calorpian Demon,
to shock you in sheer disbelief,
his horns were a' curly,
his muscles a' burly,
he lived in a barrier reef!
Inside of the reef, that Calorpian Demon,
would munch on his victims' souls,
he'd wait til' they clustered,
then smear them with mustard,
and stockpile their remnants in bowls!
When leaving the reef for a night at the office,
that Demon would stroll through the park,
he'd stalk every lady,
devour every baby,
but get to the office by dark!
At work, this specific Calorpian Demon,
was famed for his broad expertise,
his figures for killin'
were matched by his skill in
dismembering children with ease!
By dawn the next morn', that Calorpian Demon,
would punch out from work for the night,
he'd eat his assistant,
to keep self-sufficient,
then dance on her burial site!
When back at the reef, that Calorpian Demon,
would kick up his feet and relax,
he'd snack on a fetus,
then drink margaritas,
and ponder his demon-ly acts!
*Calorpia is a fictitious nation fraught with perils both demonic and economic. Additionally, the position of "Personal Assistant to That Calorpian Demon" has an extremely high turnover rate.
to shock you in sheer disbelief,
his horns were a' curly,
his muscles a' burly,
he lived in a barrier reef!
Inside of the reef, that Calorpian Demon,
would munch on his victims' souls,
he'd wait til' they clustered,
then smear them with mustard,
and stockpile their remnants in bowls!
When leaving the reef for a night at the office,
that Demon would stroll through the park,
he'd stalk every lady,
devour every baby,
but get to the office by dark!
At work, this specific Calorpian Demon,
was famed for his broad expertise,
his figures for killin'
were matched by his skill in
dismembering children with ease!
By dawn the next morn', that Calorpian Demon,
would punch out from work for the night,
he'd eat his assistant,
to keep self-sufficient,
then dance on her burial site!
When back at the reef, that Calorpian Demon,
would kick up his feet and relax,
he'd snack on a fetus,
then drink margaritas,
and ponder his demon-ly acts!
*Calorpia is a fictitious nation fraught with perils both demonic and economic. Additionally, the position of "Personal Assistant to That Calorpian Demon" has an extremely high turnover rate.
Sunday, July 25, 2010
"Cheevers The Pulp Salesman"
Should Cheevers The Pulp Salesman knock at your door,
give welcome with kindness, develop rapport,
for should you give Cheevers a reason for war,
he'll disrobe your skin to a musical score.
He'll flirt with your nostrils, he'll dance with your tongue,
he'll sip chardonnay while he sweet-talks your lungs,
he'll BOAST to your spleen 'bout the length that he's hung,
for courting your innards makes Cheevers feel young.
"But how 'bout his PULP?" you may wonder perplexed...
Have patience, you scoundrel, I'm getting there next!
Your rude interruption has made me quite vexed,
when this tale is over, I'll beat you do death!
See, PULP-WISE, Ol' Cheevers is stocked to the brim,
for hijacking PULP from his Siamese Twin
allows him to sell at a dollar per bin...
his quarterly profits are stashed in Berlin!
SO...
Should Cheevers The Pulp Salesman come to your home,
just purchase his pulp, and he'll leave you alone,
denying him business enrages his BONES,
but helps him make love to your retinal cones!
*Narrator beats reader to death*
give welcome with kindness, develop rapport,
for should you give Cheevers a reason for war,
he'll disrobe your skin to a musical score.
He'll flirt with your nostrils, he'll dance with your tongue,
he'll sip chardonnay while he sweet-talks your lungs,
he'll BOAST to your spleen 'bout the length that he's hung,
for courting your innards makes Cheevers feel young.
"But how 'bout his PULP?" you may wonder perplexed...
Have patience, you scoundrel, I'm getting there next!
Your rude interruption has made me quite vexed,
when this tale is over, I'll beat you do death!
See, PULP-WISE, Ol' Cheevers is stocked to the brim,
for hijacking PULP from his Siamese Twin
allows him to sell at a dollar per bin...
his quarterly profits are stashed in Berlin!
SO...
Should Cheevers The Pulp Salesman come to your home,
just purchase his pulp, and he'll leave you alone,
denying him business enrages his BONES,
but helps him make love to your retinal cones!
*Narrator beats reader to death*
Thursday, July 22, 2010
"Calligraphy Scallion"
Caligraphy Scallion proposed legislation
to Senators grand and elite:
"I'm leery of sustenance in this great nation...
let's make it illegal to eat!"
The Senate, intrigued by his new-age proposal,
decided to hear out the bill,
though grassroots support would be stiff and immobile,
he'd seen the law work in Brazil.
"See, calories never did NOTHIN' for NO ONE!"
he stated whilst slamming his fist,
"I'd rather be shot by a poisonous blow gun
than munch on a satchel of chips!"
"Unless I'm mistaken," one Senator stated,
"Don't people need food to survive?"
"Of COURSE not, Caligraphy Scallion debated,
it's starving that keeps you alive!"
The Senate, compelled by his rational pleading,
soon signed the young bill into law,
aware that the subsequent legal proceeding,
would draw a collective "Hurrah!"
Caligraphy Scallion concluded the session,
the Senate recessed until Spring,
when scientists championed food repossession,
he'd know that he'd done the right thing.
to Senators grand and elite:
"I'm leery of sustenance in this great nation...
let's make it illegal to eat!"
The Senate, intrigued by his new-age proposal,
decided to hear out the bill,
though grassroots support would be stiff and immobile,
he'd seen the law work in Brazil.
"See, calories never did NOTHIN' for NO ONE!"
he stated whilst slamming his fist,
"I'd rather be shot by a poisonous blow gun
than munch on a satchel of chips!"
"Unless I'm mistaken," one Senator stated,
"Don't people need food to survive?"
"Of COURSE not, Caligraphy Scallion debated,
it's starving that keeps you alive!"
The Senate, compelled by his rational pleading,
soon signed the young bill into law,
aware that the subsequent legal proceeding,
would draw a collective "Hurrah!"
Caligraphy Scallion concluded the session,
the Senate recessed until Spring,
when scientists championed food repossession,
he'd know that he'd done the right thing.
Wednesday, June 30, 2010
"A Prince For Bergruntha"
Bergruntha was a spicy wench,
who lusted for a prince,
a nobleman with little stench,
compelled her lust convinced.
She traipsed about the village square,
as naked as they come,
"I'd LOVE a Prince who's fought a bear!"
she cooed whilst drinking rum.
A group of Princes gathered 'round
Bergruntha's lusty form,
"I fought a bear AND ate a clown!"
spoke one to toot his horn.
"Now listen, boys," Bergruntha moaned,
voluptuous and grand,
"Bergruntha's Prince must lease, not own
a boat that's second hand!"
"I've only got a brand new boat!"
piped one Prince from the side,
"Well then, I'll kick you in the throat!"
that spicy wench replied.
Of all the suitors in the crowd,
Bergruntha found no mate,
"I'm sultry, but you're not allowed
to help me procreate!"
The Princes hung their heads in shame,
and exited the square,
Bergruntha's lust could not be tamed...
to them it seemed unfair.
Bergruntha, now reflecting on,
the Princes she'd denied,
decided to wreak doom upon,
all peoples nationwide.
THE END.
who lusted for a prince,
a nobleman with little stench,
compelled her lust convinced.
She traipsed about the village square,
as naked as they come,
"I'd LOVE a Prince who's fought a bear!"
she cooed whilst drinking rum.
A group of Princes gathered 'round
Bergruntha's lusty form,
"I fought a bear AND ate a clown!"
spoke one to toot his horn.
"Now listen, boys," Bergruntha moaned,
voluptuous and grand,
"Bergruntha's Prince must lease, not own
a boat that's second hand!"
"I've only got a brand new boat!"
piped one Prince from the side,
"Well then, I'll kick you in the throat!"
that spicy wench replied.
Of all the suitors in the crowd,
Bergruntha found no mate,
"I'm sultry, but you're not allowed
to help me procreate!"
The Princes hung their heads in shame,
and exited the square,
Bergruntha's lust could not be tamed...
to them it seemed unfair.
Bergruntha, now reflecting on,
the Princes she'd denied,
decided to wreak doom upon,
all peoples nationwide.
THE END.
Sunday, June 20, 2010
*intermission*
Hello, you apes,
I've started to post readings of my poems (amongst other goonery) on YouTube under the name "acebedrin"...here are a couple of them:
Calorie Goof: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jNEIFWD7E4g
Pluh-Fronga The Penguin: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Kx1v7pF2UH0
I swear to God I'm not a douchebag...I was never fond of the idea of YouTube before recently, but have now conceded to its awesome power as an expressive medium. I justify my actions by assuring you that I won't use to it to publicize my political opinions or whine about things. Apologies in advance to anyone who just finds them plain annoying (seriously).
Sincerely,
Charles Doyle
aka insanitybear aka acebedrin
I've started to post readings of my poems (amongst other goonery) on YouTube under the name "acebedrin"...here are a couple of them:
Calorie Goof: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jNEIFWD7E4g
Pluh-Fronga The Penguin: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Kx1v7pF2UH0
I swear to God I'm not a douchebag...I was never fond of the idea of YouTube before recently, but have now conceded to its awesome power as an expressive medium. I justify my actions by assuring you that I won't use to it to publicize my political opinions or whine about things. Apologies in advance to anyone who just finds them plain annoying (seriously).
Sincerely,
Charles Doyle
aka insanitybear aka acebedrin
Saturday, June 12, 2010
"Calorie Goof"
Siphon your eyes! Shingle your roof!
Spot-weld your face, 'cause its CALORIE GOOF!
He'll snort honey mustard while drinking vermouth,
then castrate your 'Pa in a telephone booth!
Spot-weld your face, 'cause its CALORIE GOOF!
He'll snort honey mustard while drinking vermouth,
then castrate your 'Pa in a telephone booth!
Saturday, June 5, 2010
"Demented Uncle Soupface"
Demented Uncle Soupface was a swine to end all pigs,
who bore his children in a boat, then locked them in the brig,
"Please let us out!" the children yelled, "We're skinnier than twigs!"
but all he did was cackle as he danced a merry jig.
Demented Uncle Soupface coaxed a tapeworm up his nose,
whilst trying to find a reason for his legs to decompose,
when suddenly his hair turned blonde as Marilyn Monroe's,
he danced along the boardwalk with his testicles exposed.
Demented Uncle Soupface was the sanest of the sane,
whose common sense was envied o'er the land and 'cross the plain,
his children (though he loved them dear), did nothing but complain,
but soon they'd see what it was like inside their Uncle's Brain...
who bore his children in a boat, then locked them in the brig,
"Please let us out!" the children yelled, "We're skinnier than twigs!"
but all he did was cackle as he danced a merry jig.
Demented Uncle Soupface coaxed a tapeworm up his nose,
whilst trying to find a reason for his legs to decompose,
when suddenly his hair turned blonde as Marilyn Monroe's,
he danced along the boardwalk with his testicles exposed.
Demented Uncle Soupface was the sanest of the sane,
whose common sense was envied o'er the land and 'cross the plain,
his children (though he loved them dear), did nothing but complain,
but soon they'd see what it was like inside their Uncle's Brain...
Wednesday, June 2, 2010
"Pluh-Fronga The Penguin"
(pluh-frawn-guh)
Pluh-Fronga The Penguin (assaulting a stork),
was publically chiding the Mayor of New York,
"Hey, Michael!" he jeered while he dry-humped Bjork,
"I voted for you, then you ate all my pork!
Mayor Bloomberg, embarrased by what he'd begun,
soon ordered Pluh-Fronga to deep-fry a nun,
"Make sure she cooks tender and has lots of fun!"
Pluh-Fronga obeyed, whilst absolving Tim Gunn.
The Mayor and the Penguin, both men of their word,
decided their conflict was far too absurd,
"I'll sell you a nun, then divide her in thirds!"
said Pluh-Fronga The Penguin, promise inferred.
Pluh-Fronga The Penguin (assaulting a stork),
was publically chiding the Mayor of New York,
"Hey, Michael!" he jeered while he dry-humped Bjork,
"I voted for you, then you ate all my pork!
Mayor Bloomberg, embarrased by what he'd begun,
soon ordered Pluh-Fronga to deep-fry a nun,
"Make sure she cooks tender and has lots of fun!"
Pluh-Fronga obeyed, whilst absolving Tim Gunn.
The Mayor and the Penguin, both men of their word,
decided their conflict was far too absurd,
"I'll sell you a nun, then divide her in thirds!"
said Pluh-Fronga The Penguin, promise inferred.
"The Beverage Beast"
The Beverage Beast comes out to drink,
when stars come out to shine!
He'll disconnect your kitchen sink,
and wrap your bones with twine!
The Beverage Beast doth have a thirst,
to rival parch-ed men,
and with your sink he'll place a curse,
on dollars changed to yen!
The Beverage Beast (a stubborn drunk),
is not adverse to harm,
he'd liquify a feral skunk,
and drink it on a farm!
So, shouldst thou cross The Beverage Beast,
the option left for you
is: "Drink a beverage made with yeast",
(I've heard that beer will do.)
when stars come out to shine!
He'll disconnect your kitchen sink,
and wrap your bones with twine!
The Beverage Beast doth have a thirst,
to rival parch-ed men,
and with your sink he'll place a curse,
on dollars changed to yen!
The Beverage Beast (a stubborn drunk),
is not adverse to harm,
he'd liquify a feral skunk,
and drink it on a farm!
So, shouldst thou cross The Beverage Beast,
the option left for you
is: "Drink a beverage made with yeast",
(I've heard that beer will do.)
"Ya Grenny" (Bermudian)
Ya Bedrin's mug,
ya Auntie's safe,
ya Grenny's pretty kewl,
Shus sallin' drugs,
to wayward waifs,
den sendin' deym to skewl.
DUN.....ya Grenny's SEXY!
ya Auntie's safe,
ya Grenny's pretty kewl,
Shus sallin' drugs,
to wayward waifs,
den sendin' deym to skewl.
DUN.....ya Grenny's SEXY!
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