Once a chap quite rotund, found of beers
On a diet ate saled, then cheered
Off the booze, quite the shock
There revealed was his cock
Which was hid neath his belly for years
Oh hello, old friend
Once a chap quite rotund, found of beers
On a diet ate saled, then cheered
Off the booze, quite the shock
There revealed was his cock
Which was hid neath his belly for years
Room for a small one?
A quite ravenous chap from Burundi
Gorged on pastries most weekdays bar Monday
when he’d feast on pork chops
steaks, pies chips and roll-mops
and leftovers he’d kept from last Sunday
How is the diet going?
Oh resolution
Grasping at glimmers of hope
Pain of weigh in day

Don’t go acting all surprised.
A squirty young lass took her lover
Off to bed only there to discover
He was epileptic, and thrashed
During sex, how she splashed
Up the walls, on the floor and bed cover.
Oh I’m sure every family has been there. No? Oh…right…sorry. Well bet Im the only one with this title in a blog post EVER!
he watched plumber porn
Connected to the Bluetooth
while folks ate salad

Aah the things we deny ourselves…
Once a lady with grace, class and poise
Had a craving for both girls and boys
She would keep it well hidden
What she thought was forbidden
And so got through so many sex toys
I should know better. I do.meh…
He thinks he’s funny
But he gambled on a fart
Faecal stained trousers

ouchy
Hope you feel so much better today
And the swelling and pain’s gone away
And the tear in the tip
That was caused by your zip
Will be healed up real soon, hip hooray!
Taste the rainbow…
Oh you poor thing, I hope you’re well soon
Heard it’s swollen up like a balloon
That there’s swelling and weeping
And dripping and seeping
Then a discharge that stinks out the room
Testicle centric
Prospective lover to his lady June
“One ball’s shrivelled just like a prune”
Nervously he confided
“And I’m somewhat lopsided
Other’s swollen just like a balloon.”
One about a ladies cavernous front bum
A voluptuous temptress from Cuba
A vagina shaped quite like a tuba
And she would not delay
To allow you to play
Her, so wide was she, no need to lube her
Just work on the speed of that last line…it works I assure you .
Go on, treat yourself.
Married chap with a thing for his gardener
Found his long garden hose quite the hardener
He would gaze at it’s girth
As it watered the earth
Made him wander and betray his partner
The yin to my poetic yang…
Friend of mine met a lass from Bermuda
He pursued, flowers, food, woo’d and screwed her
But within ’bout a week
Realised, quite the freak,
As she cried, strap-on lubed, “Let’s get ruder!”
Don’t go acting all surprised.
A good friend of mine took her new lover
Off to bed only there to discover
He was epileptic, and thrashed
During sex, how she splashed
Up the walls, on the floor and bed cover.
Damn you to hell
History dictates
No one can ever enjoy
A small black moustache

Better than being punched in the man boobs I suppose…
She with wonky boobs
and he with his wonky eyes,
true beauty beholds.

A poem. About bits. Of stuff.
There are those who will dine
on fine foods and great wine
and who want just the finest of treats
But not me, no, no way
I’m quite proud when I say
Im a fan of the less refined meats
Give me Pies filled with heart
though it does make me fart
give me puddings of tripe, brains and balls
though it makes me quite gassy
I can still keep it classy
and with gravy for sure eat it all
Give me chicken arse flan
I’m not bothered with ham
give me dishes pile high with pig scrotum
I’ve this recipe for stew
with the balls of gnu
and some others, so good, ‘cos I wrote ’em
Oh I cannot resist
the dark meats on my list
how i crave juicy brains, spine and liver
feed me pies filled with wings
of all high flying things
lick my lips in delight how I shiver
Dont cast doubt or dispute
nature’s leftover fruit
say ‘perhaps’ if your offered intestines
you might just take delight
at each savoury bite
as you wash it down with rich red house wines
Oh Im just keep on giving don’t I
Love wains, they try to
keeps it fresh in the bedroom
risky and risque

Because Im just the giving type
As time marches on
lifes toll shows in tired eyes
bodies grow weary

They’re mostly harmless
In suburbia
secrets abound and fester
until mardi gras

Oh go on then
Stares at the mirror
Christmas excess took its toll
inhales and holds it

Why not….
Proud of his conquest
though the darkness holds secrets
by day shame abounds

Don’t be that guy
The art of loving
often goes hand in hand with
the art of bathing

Don’t be that guy
Ageless, he parties
time passes by and alone
he ends drunken days

Let’s not be judgy now…
Works hard at the gym
buttocks toned and abs of steel
Yet secrets he holds
