Author: Michael

Husband, dad,(ex)programmer, comic collector and proud Yorkshireman. I have no idea why im here or why im writing but i rather enjoy it. no great fan of punctuation;

Z

Things I would not place inside myself

It seems that there are those that will, and I think it’s a farce,

but people (per the internet) do hide things in their arse.

I’m told (though not seen it myself for I share my PC

with kids) so cant research it but if I did then I would see

Ripe marrows place in darkest holes, and veges by the barrow

inserted, lubed and with great force, pushed into bottoms narrow.

Digits, midgets, varied widgets placed where sun shines not

a friend of mine vanished a vase when on it she did squat.

This bloke from Scotland, cavernous, spread wide, bent to receive

the contents of Old Nick’s full sack when drunk on Christmas eve.

And I did read a tale of woe of one lad who took pleasure

dressed as a pirate placed gold coins inside like hidden treasure.

A story told of one young chap one night when feeling fruity

filed down a tooth brush, electric type, to place inside his booty.

But not outdone a lass invited several chaps to sample

her gaping hole but it turned out that just the two were ample…

Things stuck inside, spread open wide, or inside falling out

each to their own, and when at home, I really have no doubt

that there are those who cant recall, have lost things, or forgotten

I might suggest they might just be lodged somewhere inside your bottom.

Y

One from the archives, which I have no recollection of writing..

You can listen instead of reading if you prefer.

 

 

Old Walter McDad finds such joy in the sad

The depressed and the rather quite tragic

He would dance with delight if your shoes were too tight

Spilled your tea on your crotch? Oh quite magic!

Caught your knob in your zip? Caused your foreskin to rip?

He would high five in great celebration

Birth defects?  He loves those.  Diabetic? Lost toes?

Well to him they’re such cause for elation

 

Enjoys watching the poor, mocks the sick and what’s more

Steals the cash from the tramps at the station.

Takes a dump on your lawn, tells your kids to watch porn

Big wide grin at your grandma’s cremation

Fingers crossed at the vets they declare that your pets

need to be put to sleep with much haste

Phone the docs and the answer is that you have cancer

He’d take joy, he knows its in poor taste

 

For Walt spends all his days in such terrible ways

Don’t ask why he just does ‘cos he can

At a hundred and one he’d still rodger your mum

He’s a rather quite nasty old man

So watch out and beware at the top of the stair

As he’d gladly push you in the back

You go head over tit and he’d chuckle and sit

Watch you bleed as he enjoys a snack

 

X

XXX filth…enjoy

What once were endless summer days, and tender nights not counted

Sweetest whispers, love unbridled, days drift by embraced

And 69 more ways your soft pink flesh was nightly mounted

And your skin glowed with the blush of love’s seed spilled upon your face

The heart quickened, loins wet, thickened, hair pulled, lost souls intertwined

Gimp mask, red room, 12 inch pseudo love meat, I am yours and you are mine.

So spent, we lay in sheets soiled with the remnants of our love

we fit like trains into a tunnel, like large hand into small glove

And when no lube can dampen, when blue pills can not revive

Will we shuffle from this mortal coil, our passions still alive

Somewhere far beyond these night time stars that we once watched together,

Shall our memories drift slowly into inky black forever

________________________

W

Like stars that pierce the inky void

of night she sparkles as she spins

through space and time and all about

look up and watch as bright she burns

–

Beyond the moons of myth and lore

He watches, blinded by the joy

And hearts entwined they find their place

Hearts lifted at the setting sun

–

Forever sighs, and promise kept

And dying suns adorn her train

Of endless night, left in her wake

Their forever sighs, and calls her near

Eternal bound in endless skies

And dying suns adorn her train

Of darkest night, left in her wake

–

Beyond the veil they dip and swoop

Through nebula and pinpricked paths

‘Till time no more stands in their path

To evermore’s sweetest embrace

U

U is for…

I tore the pages from the book

that holds the story of our lives

of darker times that might have been

and in their place I wrote these words

my promises to you.

Not to forget each day to live

and love and laugh and treasures mine

to hold most dear and know their worth

and thanks with grateful heart I give

all that I have to you.

When sunset paints with flames of red

the words we wrote on pristine page

We loved though time will pass us by

as stories gather dust upon

life’s shelf where now we lay.

T

one before bed time?.

Alone she stands and silent mourns

Snow whipped about her feet

Dreams buried in a grave of lies

Air foul where once was sweet

And tears streaming down her cheeks

Fists clenched, jaw resolute

A rage inside pushed deep down low

Her screams once wild now mute

The trust now lost the joy departed

Cold earth on loves corpse piled

No rose she lays no prayers she speaks

Wipes her face, then turns, and smiles

S

ALL HAIL BRIAN!

Its a tale, old and true, through the ages to you

a man good, brave and noble quite grand

he’s from stories of old, and songs sung and yarns told

stout of heart but alas such small hands

From when he was a lad, he would say to his dad

One day I,  will for sure, be a knight

But alas his dad feared and he scratched his long beard

Not convinced that in fact his son might

For his hands so quite small, even though he was tall

And a sword he could surely not hold

It would fall from his grip, to the ground it would slip

Left defenceless alone in the cold

“Perhaps it’s not for you” , said his dad, his heart blue

“Maybe you should consider your trade

Jesters are in demand and with your tiny hands

You would surely have your fortune made

You can dance, perform tricks, they will laugh, give you tips

You can jape, as they point at your fingers

Dressed as harlequin king, telling jokes then you sing

Of the Celts cross the sea, all such gingers

But he would not be swayed

His mind up was quite made

And he joined the kings army with hope

And begged to be a knight

They persisted, quite right

Saw his small hands and loud, declared “Nope!”

Though they gave him a task,a quite terrible ask

But he could not refuse, or give grief

The knights he’d make feel great

With small hands masturbate

Boost their self esteem and give relief

Now each night spends his time, giving handies sublime

his small hands make them feel 8 feet tall

And to battle they charge

Wearing codpiece quite large

Brian drips with man juice, big and small

So rejoice, sing his name, we rejoice in his fame

The inspirer, he who helped shape our land

Not a knight,but still grand

He who emptied man glands

All hail Brian, he of the small hands

A