I’ll run out eventually I am sure. But today is not that day!
Once a cad, quite a scoundrel, Jafar
slept around, in the bedroom a star
but he caught something bad
from this lass and her dad
now alas keeps his cock in a jar
Why the dickens not eh.
Hear that thing on your leg has got worse
you should probably go see a nurse
cos it smells really off
and you’ve got a bad cough
or we’ll soon see you off in a hearse
Have another inappropriate limerick. Why? Because of reasons of course!
Once a lass from the banks of the Humber
Who did quite shocking things with cucumber
What she did with a squash
Made you wince and say gosh
But oh how you’d kill for her number
Normal service resumes methinks
Once a maiden with curves by the plenty
Sold her good self to poor, rich and gentry
Every Sunday the priests
Had her down on her knees
Though to church they would still refuse entry
Should have posted it yesterday but I was too busy enjoying the wedding and drinking cocktails and enjoying a day only us Brits can really do properly…
A royal couple, face beaming with smile
but he’ll have to wait still for a while
seems he’s rather quite keen
this romantic young dream
he can’t wait to take her up the aisle
One about farmers doing terrible things to Animals. Allegedly.
Once a farmer of ill reputation
was accused of such vile molestation
as his pigs looked harassed
and his sheep ran so fast
with a look of intense consternation
I think she got some of it on sale.
Flush with cash, dame from North Carolina
who so craved a sweet custom vagina
said her beau “looks fantastic
though your clit’s made of plastic
and your labia’s hand made in China”
Not sure this one has much of an audience at all really. Oh well, it’s still something I guess.
Clad in white, fellow quite fond of cricket
So much so he would dance down the wicket
And with joyous delight
In the sun shining bright
Pull a stump out, caress it and lick it
Negative, it just impacted on the surface…
A virile young fellow named Darren
He divorced, said his missus was barren
try as hard as he could
Was his sperm that was dud
She remarried, 3 kids, Joe, Zak, Aaron
But probably not as bad as prostitution.
Narcoleptic chain smoker, Belinda
Nodded off, burnt her house to a cinder
Now she’s trying to make cash
On the street selling ass
To the men that she locates on Tinder
Perhaps you know someone feeling a little under the weather and feel stuck for what to write in the get well soon card. Fear not I have you all sorted.
Get some rest you’ll feel better I’m sure
Once it heals it will not feel so sore
You’ll be soon back to boozing
When you clear up the oozing
And next time just say no to the whore
Perhaps you know someone feeling a little under the weather and feel stuck for what to write in the get well soon card. Fear not I have you all sorted.
Eeuw I hear it’s all swollen and smelly
and there’s bits that are wobbly like jelly
I’d suggest get some cream
as it shouldn’t be green
leaking yellow puss onto your belly.
You’d think I’d have had enough of these by now wouldn’t you.
A young fellow, good looks by the plenty
slept with hundred from eighteen to 20
twice as many to 30
more to 40, so dirty
but now no more, he’s spent and quite empty
No not that, a limerick. The picture in the header gives it away really. Let’s do some more ‘Get Well Soon’ ones.
Oh alas you poor dear heard it’s bad
and the pain’s quite intense and you’re sad
still a lesson you learned
when you pee’d and it burned
next time use protection you daft lad
Happy Tuesday!
A Fat fellow of girth quite unique
out of breath when he walked, couldn’t speak
So he cut down on Lard
trained incredibly hard
Fell down dead, heart attack, in first week.
What? You thought it would have a happy ending? Ha!
Words strung together to try and create a thought or a feeling. Nothing more…
Perchance to dream, thoughts dark and cold
and wintry chill pervades and bright
light dims and so to slumber slips
where true desire from dark earth duly crawls
White bones through fingers poke and claw
and lips oaths break and smile then whisper sweet
white lies, half truths, deceit most syrupy
and from his mouth and breast he feeds
Hungry mouth suckles and feeds on lies most warm
yet cold on the tongue, belly bloated he rises
and wiping his mouth, eyes ringed and tooth blackened smile
fed on desires yet hunger raging wild
Into the night, soft screams and tears make pulses race
and twisted he submits to need
and when dawn comes, and waking guilt subsides
he smiles, rolls over, smiling hungry still
Not at all about ejaculation. Honest.
M’s writing prompts for March came with the following instructions:
“…set your timer for ten minutes and begin writing about one of the prompts listed below. Don’t worry about spelling, punctuation, neatness, or anything like that; just write!”
Let us see what whimsical nonsense I can whip up in ten minutes…
There are times when a prompt will pop up ad I simply think to myself “No Michael, you know how this is going to turn out so just stop right there.”
I don’t have a particularly filthy mind, but I do like to say what I think. I take a degree of pride in pushing boundaries, testing sensibilities and poking things that should not be poked. I do however do my best to do so with a degree of humour and a modicum of taste.
I shall therefore leave this one be and just move along quietly because I do still have a certain amount of self control.
Just to be clear in case you were wondering though, it was going to be a toss up between a poem about a chap with an extreme case of premature ejaculation or a woman who discovers the joys of female ejaculation for the first time.
Problem was, for the latter at least, I would have needed to do some research and the wife and kids use my laptop quite regularly so I really did not fancy having to explain the content of my browser to either.
It’s a pity really because lush, rush and gush all rhyme quite wonderfully and you know I would have loved the opportunity to explain that “With shock and surprise, it flew into his eyes, and he screamed “help I think I’ve gone blind!”
But I won’t, because I am better than that…
Curtain twitchers beware
M’s writing prompts for March came with the following instructions:
“…set your timer for ten minutes and begin writing about one of the prompts listed below. Don’t worry about spelling, punctuation, neatness, or anything like that; just write!”
Let us see what whimsical nonsense I can whip up in ten minutes…
Squirty McWhirty was really quite dirty
And Rodger her husband quite plain
He would dream of steam trains
They would fill up his brain
Whilst his wife quite love filth, kink and pain
Next door lived the Cooks she was obsessed with books
While her fella was quite into Cars
And they seemed quite at peace
The plain folk on the street
Though he also quite loved wearing bras
Down at house 22 there was Mr Rabu
Who’s wife disappeared last May
He said she was in Spain
But go check out the drain
You’ll find parts still not quite washed away
And they all quite suspect that there’s likely a sect
Who reside at the house near the park
Theres odd comings and goings
Nasty toings and froings
And oft candles and screams in the dark
Then there’s Darren and Paul who both work at the Mall
Vegans both, own a really nice home
But when push comes to shove
You know they’re so in love
Don’t like meat but they sure love the bone
A quite curious lot I assume that you’ve got
A good feel for the folk on this street
But don’t judge please be kind
We’re all different you’ll find
Smile and nod if you ever do meet
Vegetarians may object. The carnivores may not.
M’s writing prompts for March came with the following instructions:
“…set your timer for ten minutes and begin writing about one of the prompts listed below. Don’t worry about spelling, punctuation, neatness, or anything like that; just write!”
Let us see what whimsical nonsense I can whip up in ten minutes…
Sniffles and snuffles
fat pigs that love truffles
And turnips and carrots and swedes
They’ll eat slops and scoff bread
Cabbage both green and red
And leftovers and all that you leave
They think wow what a life
With this farmer and wife
As they roll in the mud oh such bliss
Every day they grow fat
What is better that that
They insist what a great life is this
Then one day Truffles aint there
Snuffles, nose in the air
Does despair but’s distracted as hell
For aroma divine
Cooking flesh of the swine
Snuffles slavers oh my what a smell…
Oh how very horrid.
M’s writing prompts for March came with the following instructions:
“…set your timer for ten minutes and begin writing about one of the prompts listed below. Don’t worry about spelling, punctuation, neatness, or anything like that; just write!”
Let us see what whimsical nonsense I can whip up in ten minutes…
He dances round the subject
of just where he was last night
there is lipstick on his collar
and she hopes that he just might
this time tell her something honest
and perhaps he’ll see the light
but he says was with his mates so she replies
….
Fiddle sticks balderdash and a dose of nincompoop
Piles of twaddle loads of tosh and a massive load of bollocks
So much gubbins endless waffle and a steaming pile of nonsense
Pointless drivel stupid dribble and a total crock of shite
and counting…
She feels his passing
Deep in her heart where dark and light contest
she knows no more will he return
And sun shines brighter and dark less thick
While green tendrils choke the memories that block the light
And free once more she sings
Songbird
Deep breaths…
A young lad quite obsessed with silk pants
Who would steal then if given the chance
And give them a big sniff
Cos he loved the soiled whiff
Stole his mums, sister’s, gran’s and his aunt’s
Oh how very horrid.
M’s writing prompts for March came with the following instructions:
“…set your timer for ten minutes and begin writing about one of the prompts listed below. Don’t worry about spelling, punctuation, neatness, or anything like that; just write!”
Let us see what whimsical nonsense I can whip up in ten minutes…
Ruby red she swirls and spins
And craves a life he cannot give
And laughter peaks and frantic dips
Entranced by eyes and heart and hips
Each day and night he toils and strains
To please her hunger as it grows
Voraciaous she devours it all
And never sated death does call
Worth more in the ground than with beating heart
with greed consumed she seeks to feast
And so she schemes and plots and plans
His life to take with blood soiled hands
And with widows sorrow she does weep
as slowly lowered into the ground
and ruby red heart swirls and leaps
all that was his now hers to keep
I would sack her…
Bo-Peep, careless lass
Tailless sheep found at last
World’s worst shepherdess
Ruining more childhood memories one by one
Meeny miny moe
They will never change the words
Hear the clansmen sing
Afterwards 