Divorce

I acquiesce to your request my dear
I’ll take my leave of thee,
just give me half the money dear
and divorce I will agree,
the marriage is truly over
this is plain to see,
it happened when ****** partners
increased from two – to three,

you couldn’t keep your legs shut
they were open good and wide,
just to let your lover
stuff his **** inside,
you say he’s a better lover;  
he’s sensitive and kind,
also that for the first time
******* you did find,

but  in my own defence dear-
and this I truly think,
your big and hairy *****
was rancid and did stink,
and your lover you should inform him;
oh - this isn’t just a tease!
if he’d care to inspect his *******
He’ll find a small disease,

'twas on a mate’s stag do
that I fell for a honey trap
I’m afraid you must inform him-
I acquired the ****** clap,
so let’s just call it even
and go our separate ways,
we’ll admit that hanky panky
never -feckin -pays.

I quite like plastic sandals,
**** shaped candles,
and big assed women in my bed,
I like artistic folks and ***** jokes
and piccalilli on rye bread,
I like big gay men and Tony Benn,
loud mouthed scousers and Steven Fry,
I like The small faces whisky chasers
and come home Lassie - made me cry.
I like the upturned curl
of ******* dog lip
the hurl and swirl
of big girl hip.
I like Bevelled slick edges
and reeaal eeaasy slopes.
chilli dip wedges
with fresh artichokes.
wanton loose wenches
and swivel hipped ******
daft dawgs and dentures
and granddad - who snores.

A smile for me that
doth beguile
my senses - and my wit,

I now do pledge my troth
to thee
my love - I now commit,
to love thee from this
far off place,
this distant foreign land.

Afore memories fade,
and drift away
I offer thee - my hand.

"- M’ha boots -"


A blind gal stole m’ah boots today
jus' up n carried dem away ,,,,,, “musta bin blind !”
a’h was drunk a’h guess
a’h musta bin
was outta m’ah head
on moonshine gin,

A’h was Laid in ‘d gutter
a honkin down
when th’ gal crept up
a thief renown
n  had dem away on her dam toes
jus m’ah luck;
a’h do suppose, ,,,,“musta bin blind !,, musta bin !”

D’a boots were nearly
ten year old
jeeezus man d’ey were
covered in mould, !!  
m’ah toe poked out
d’a left hand boot
n made m’a feet stink
like - an old cheroot,

A’h  guess she was no sweet south belle,
but she sure was blind-
whid no sense ‘o smell.

wanted;  
Liverpudlian rock stars
to sing fer me - the Queen,
I'll pay yers all in corgis  
and transfuse ya wiv - caffine,
I've gorra a bloke called Ringo  
fer the bingo - inbetween,
support act - Chewbacca -
and Macca - in yella submarine.

I like cows;
cows seem to like Me,
maybe we ought to get together sometime;
chew the cud,
talk udders--
YEAH,
that'd be good,
we could crap on daisies
in the meadow,-
watch them grow-
**** in streams
add a liddle-- YELLLOOOWWW,
eat only the greenest grass
yeah, that'd be good,

I just need to learn to mooo.
,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,­,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,mooo,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,­,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,MOOOOOOOOO.

"- Cheers Bob -"

The can't ****
squirrel arsed
paymefuckall's
say -

"Hey, we're on
the up lads
and the Footsie's
buoyant too !

Wall street's
through the ceiling
****'s beginning to accrue.

So we saw no need
for apprehension
we've done the deed
and spent yer pension" !!!

I met my uncle Albert
down at asda, in aisle three;
he got there in his mazda,
jus' a smidgen after me,

said he'd traversed sainsburys,
tesco liddle n the spar,
but not one o' them flogged caviar
truffles or foie Gras.

He sidled past the pork pies
streaky bacon turkey thighs
a headin for the french fries
n forsaken knock down buys,

He shimmied 'round the ankle biters;
expectant mums to be,
popin pills for bloated ills
in the haberdashery.

Aberfan.


L
-A
--N
---D
----S
-----L
------I
-------D
--------E
­----------angle of repose.
----------------------------wishing
-------------------------------------wishing
-----------------------------------------------wishing;
--------­------------------------------------------------children wore Sunday clothes.

Alan nettleton.

First we fashiond our Gods
of stone
and then from a
sacred wood,
we even tried out
flesh n bone,
but it wasn't -
quite as good.
we lauded him as
"SON OF BOSS"
then promptly nailed
him - to the cross.
so can I borrow
your latest God?
as this one's
one helluvan-
awkward sod!....

When you change the way
you look at things
the things you look
at change,
gives you a different slant
on oddity
the peculiar, weird ,
and strange,
so if normal is,
what normal be,
then normal is
not for me,
I’ll chose the path
of oddity,
the abnormality,
bourgeoisie,

I like Charlie;
Charlie talks to trees.
never understood though why;
he ventured,
'tween Camilla's,
knees.
guess you "had to be there."
when,
ying became his yang,
Diana wasn't looking
then.
Camilla's legs went TWANG.
Yeah,, I like Charlie;
Charlie talks to trees.
and he's a fully paid up member
of the lumpen bourgeoisie.


God bless Charlie.

"Pascals preserve -"


It came with tamper proof *****
and heavenly holes
one way slats for
the blinkered souls
a promissory note
from the big "I AM"
there's eternal life

in my - Godly jam !!

Fully ambulatory with
onanist wrists,
neither whig,
nor tory,
nor communist,
he's loose lipped
loose hipped
quite well equipped,

he's bendy n trendy,
he's buff, n ripped.

not quite castrato
and gives good vibrato
to choirboys mulatto -
with belly button fluff.

Obi.

I am partly shiny
but mostly dull,
kinda Bo Peep-ish,
I'm into wool.
I am an errant bent penny
of dubious worth
and a fickle little tickle
on the funny bone o' mirth.
I'm tapioca pudding
after chicken Coq au Vin --

an iamb, and I am,
The Vitruvian Man.

Wanna scoop your marrow
wanna peel your teeth,
wanna feel you lying bare beneath,
wanna savour sweet suckyou-lant meat
wanna fillet your soul-

make the we - complete....

Some say metaphors are
a refuge for the inarticulate,
a maisonette for the
narrow minded.

Others, may feign indignation
at such a lowly art.
a sometimes mansion for the
oft times creatively bankrupt.

I - as a lover of metaphor
couldn't give the tiniest of *****--
in my a two up two down
with outside toilet and tin bath.

If I should die
and God deny
then my oh my
my *** will fry
and my eye will cry
but I'll still
try to say
bye bye before
I FLY BOY FLY
into the sky
if you should
ask me why
oh why then
here is my reply
you can rely
upon this guy
to tie your tie
with this tongue tie
before I die, well,,,,,,,,,,,, good bye.

A Dog of the sea
once told me;
"It's the pointy bits
of ships that go forward,
the blunt bit stirs the ****
behind."

Once,
just once
before, I sang
the song of sorrows-
the song that cracks the eyes
and breaks the sanctimony of lips.