February had 29 days, March 200 and April has 625. I have no idea what day or month it is to be honest…
This poor lad I know, self isolated
Spent his days watching porn, masturbated
Till his bits were quite raw
And his arms were real sore
And his balls were all red and inflated
One about butt hair
A hirsuite young temptress from Dover
You would see each time she was bent over
Not only her thong
But butt hair, thick and log
Which she styled in a fancy comb over
Blah blah Blah words
I scratched your name into these walls
Of discontent, and love’s betrayal
And red raw, blood drips, slowly pools
Reflected, crimson, stained teeth bared
Wild eyes, I see your laughing face
These knuckles white, your cackles sharp
Like razors cut, pink flesh, clean through
Skin, muscles, sinew, fat and bone
Spilled violently with no regard
Your words, dark deeds, most ill intent
Until a shadow’s all that’s left
Which fades as light tries to caress
’till dark returns scars to embrace
A warning to try on your jeans once a week
Self Isolating
Mere metres from the fridge
Unrelenting growth
One about leaking boobs
Breast feeding mum, Julie pickles
Had huge boobs but quite lopsided nipples
Left one gushed like a geyser
Gave her baby a seizure
But the right, rather small, only trickles
Blah blah Blah words
Cobwebs thick, paths overgrown with memories grey
and twisted boughs so old and gnarled
they lead the way and whispers call us on.
Shuffling slow through time as thick as mud
not looking back, accept our lot
And knowing, come to die.
For in that place I find you there
and one last time immersed in love
give all I have and know this race is run.
And on the wind and to the stars I’m lifted
To beyond and unto nothing I return
Well lived, well loved, content.
Let this be a warning to us all…
New years eve, chap had drunk some, well plenty
“Happy new year he cried, twenty-twenty
will be my year for sure”
then passed out on the floor
Shit his pants. Drink slow, quite elementary…
With a flacid whimper
Christmas excess calls
There in the shade does not grow
what was once in light
…About Gender reassignment
A broad shouldered young fellow called Fred
“Bod’s a male, I’m female in my head”
He quite firmly asserted
Has his penis inverted
Keeps his balls in a jar near his bed
You know what time it is!
There once hailed a young man from Dublin
saw the doctor who said “It’s quite troubling,
that it’s looking most queer
could be syphilis I fear
as it’s covered in puss and is bubbling.”
It’s that time again
Once a virginal lassie from Bury
To her boyfriend she offered her cherry
“Damn wrong hole” she did cry
“You’re two inches too high!”
“Does it hurt?” he asked, she replied “Very!”
.
.
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I had to do a wee but of research on this to get the imperial measurements as I am very much metric born and raised. Oh and yes I know, position matters here in the general up and down of things. Look you’ll work it out I am sure…Now my browser needs clearing. See the lengths I go to for your limericky pleasure!
The stores are already filling up!
Not yet Halloween
Yet thoughts turning to Christmas
Calm yourself perhaps
Count your blessings!
Hygienically challenged from Lincoln
was a lass who’s front bottom was stinkin’
She neglected to wash
men would try, but oh gosh
she would only get laid if they’re drinkin’
Some rhymey stuff
These words, these thoughts, these in between
The lines, the sheets, the days and dreams
This place he finds her,madness screams
As nothing ever lasts.
Each syllable twists in the wind
Words whisked away, she cant rescind
Or even hide where they have sinned
And clings to hopes now dashed.
Forlorn until time heals and mends
To keep from harm the heart pretends
Until new starts warm cold dark ends
Their pain slips to the past.
A thing about someone and a thing. Mostly.
A bored fellow from near the equator
Rubbed his cock with a rusty cheese grater
Not sure what he expected
But it blead, now infected
likely to drop off sooner or later
Well it’s Friday here…
A lewd husband, bum obsessed, inventive
Begged his wife for love, back door, incentive
Of her beauty he’d gush
For a crack at her tush
She’d not budge, no way, anal retentive
Why not eh…
A flight steward, Oliver Brown
A mile higher of sensual renown
He would find himself spent
At a bumpy ascent
But preferred it much more, going down.
Another one of these. Art all by my fair hands!
Crisp autumnal days
Filled with rage out on the streets
Dog shit ‘neath the leaves
Shall we? Been sooo long since we did.
Autumn Leaves appear
At last Moobs will stop sweating
Fattie hates summer
A broad shouldered lady called Brenda
Big old hands, hairy arms, legs quite slender
Wispy beard and top lip
Quite full breast, curvy hip
Size 12 feet, hard to classify gender
Shall we? It involves body parts and a selection of greases
A stammering tart from Calcutta
Rubbed her bottom with handfuls of butter
Smeared oils on her tum
Grease upon her front bum
“Ch-Ch-Cheaper than lube”, she would stutter
Well it’s Friday here…
Loose bowelled Hermaphrodite from Nantucket
Had a penis so yeah, she would suck it
He would caress her clit
Explode cum, squirt, n shit
Near the bed kept a mop and a bucket
Okay so I realise that that first line hardly flows and is somewhat jarring but how often will I ever get to use the phrase “Loose bowelled hermaphrodite”. And I wanted to combine with the limerick classic location of Nantucket which I seldom use. Just let me have my moment okay 😊
It’s that time again
A young cow hand alone on the range
Felt a stirring, peculiar and strange
Watched steers evening till dawn
Loved their rumps, and the horn
Well lets just say that it made him deranged
Just to get things started again
Hot curry fan who too loved basmati
Rice, samosas and tasty chapati
He’d add chili’s galore
Declared “Please, please add some more”
Left his anus on fire and quite tatty
Really rather vile
Nasty mortician hailed from Brasilia
Spent his nights sweating hard, necrophilia
When suggested instead
Go for live not the dead
He protested “Ive not heard a thing sillier.”
Afterwards 