Things I would not place inside myself – A poem

it’s somethign I guess…well actually not really…meh…

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 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 bruch, 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 isides 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 inside your bottom.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Yawn, yet another limerick.

Not sure if this is a thing but I am sure it is somewhere. It works if you get the rhythm. Not that you want to . You’ve been warned.

A perverted yet grateful lass Julie

In bed, poo obsessed and unruly

Do a crap on your chest

In it sign “All the best,

Twas surely a real treat, yours truly.”

Another Tttttuesday limerick.

Cavernous!

“Check your prostate” my friend’s wife insisted

so he went pants, dropped face red and twisted

he enjoyed it so much

and went home and begged such

that each night he’s oiled up, roughly fisted

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A limerick collection

Actually, it’s just gone Monday…

I am finally getting around to putting my limericks into a book. Or some at least.  There are about 600 on here so I have plenty to choose from.  I think I will call the book “Inappropriate”.

It’s funny going through them because mostly I do not remember them at all…Here are a few I did that I think tell you where I am heading with this.


African crisis I never
have seen such despair, no not ever.
Drought, pain, loss, civil war,
HIV, death and more.
But hey, least they’ve got lovely weather.

 

I fellow I know, a romancer.

Lovely wife, healthy kids and great dancer.

Had it all so he thought

but it all came to nought

when he died really young of bowel cancer.

 

 

A fellow joined up and no doubt

A true patriot so he shipped out.

Lost his legs to a mine,

had some made now he’s fine,

and he always gets parked when he’s out

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A Sunday limerick for you

Actually, it’s just gone Monday…

Once a hairy young lady called Betty

When aroused became musty and sweaty

she’d be down on all fours

as it oozed from her pores

wet and matted, hair hung like spaghetti