Tag: poetry

Somewhat starvin’ Marvin

I have no idea why.

Now a chap I knew could not contain the things he daily ate

no matter what he had and piled so high upon his plate

He’d gorge and feed his hungry face, sweet scollops, cakes and trout

then suddenly without fair warning it would come back out

 

He’d dine on steaks and fries and eat a pizza with meat on it

then forcefully with gusto great came forth projectile vomit

A meagre mouthful would result in gagging and some retching

one time he even soiled his trousers, brown on cream – quite fetching

 

Okay so I will stop there.  I recognise that sometimes I go a little far but this is just a bit weird.  I think it was funnier in my head than I can actually do on paper.  I then also got to thinking just what might make him so very unwell and think maybe he might just have a nervous disposition rather than it being an eating disorder.  At that point I now find myself thinking that he would probably then just have stayed home which is pretty sad and the likelihood of him having a wife or girlfriend is pretty slim so it’s really just descending into a pretty sorry tale and all a bit depressing.

Seemed a shame to waste a good title and picture so I guess I will just leave it there.  Feel free to finish it if you like.

Plus, there isn’t really a word that rhymes with hungry and even puke and barf are pretty limited so it was never going to end well.

 

 

 

Here you go…

Look, if I don’t write them down they go round and round in my head and that really is not a good thing at all.

A young couple loves garden were tending

every moment each day they were spending

and their love grew and grew

oh the things they would do

though she drew a clear line at rear ending

 

Yet another one of these

Look, if I don’t write them down they go round and round in my head and that really is not a good thing at all.

Once a fellow woke up on a Sunday

at his cold wife winked “Hey is it fun day?”

she declined his request

and insisted at best

a quick hand job on three weeks from Monday

 

Hairy Teddy Tucker

I have no idea why.

Now it seems Ted has a passion for the trendy and for fashion

And the feel of fabric tight against his skin

Now he’s a manly man don’t doubt it but sometimes he cannot fight it

And into a little red dress he’ll slip in

 

Loves the way it makes him look just like a model from a book

Or so he tells himself so as to not feel weird

How it accentuates his form and no it might not be the norm

But he also thinks it goes well with his beard

 

He feels quite confident and hot and his wife doesn’t mind one jot

In fact she likes the way it makes his bottom look

Though as it’s rather sheer some things do stand out, oh dear

She suggest perhaps he might just try a tuck

 

So with his package put away and sexily his hips do sway

And he feels gorgeous and quite special, rather girly

Lips full they taste of cherry glass of wine he’s feeling merry

And to the bedroom leads the way his tuck unfurling

 

Oh yeah. Hard core.

I realise that one right does not in any way fix all of the wrongs.

Parched the earth waits still

distant rumbles promise life

passes by taunting

 

Oh good god I tried to write a proper haiku effort and I feel all dirty.  Please don’t think badly of me or tell anyone because I have a reputation to keep up.  I really have no hidden depths than need to be explored, I am somewhat blond to the beauty around me mostly and I do not possess the angst nor the soul to produce something that will speak to your heart.

I can however turn cock, sock and shock into something pretty funny when so moved which is something I guess.

Play to your strengths eh 🙂

 

 

 

 

Another one of these

Look, if I don’t write them down they go round and round in my head and that really is not a good thing at all.

Scottish musician Roddy McDougall

rugged looks, kind and handsome, quite frugle

how the ladies would wilt

at the sight of his kilt

at his impressive bagpipes and bugle

Sweet sweet dumpster lovin’ – AUDIO

An exercise in wrongness.

There are things that I think and write that I know I should be ashamed of and that I ought to not mutter but I do, and I don’t feel a great deal of shame at all, which in turns makes me again think that I ought to be ashamed of myself and then I’m  not and then…well you get the idea.  This one is about having relations with homeless people and that’s disgusting I know.  Thinking it that is, not homeless people.  Or homeless people having sex.  They’re quite entitled to do whatever they want.  Just because you sleep in a box in an underpass does not mean that you cant enjoy a Dutch reverse wheelbarrow with someone you just shared a bottle of floor cleaner with.

 

I’m sorry.  I will go make a donation to a homeless charity once I press send.  Feel free to read or listen to it or maybe just give it a miss.

 

 

There’s a bloke called Marcel Has a story to tell

As he has a quite dark fascination

See for tramps he gets hot and he’s ready to trot

With the down and out down at the station

 

Loves the way that they smell Oh dear twisted Marcel

He just can’t get enough all the while

Kindly gives a few bucks when theyre down on their luck

Sits and hangs out with them with a smile

 

He enjoys carnal sins round the back of the bins

Hobo loving he can’t get his fill

He’s the local wild funster getting hot in a dumpster

Black toothed cavernous mouth – oh the thrill

 

Dirty fingers hair matted they’re the cure for his flacid

Manhood he’s so proud and excited

A homeless three way really did make his day

and he heads home satisfied and excited.