Fixed on salad ******* armpit ****
Passionate diaper ***** dodging queefs
**** fat farts and **** sipping
Squiggly nips dangling from a pig
coffee spitting ***** kids with sticks
sticking sticky ***** in **** like a *****
*** cream pageant queens spewing ****
Chris Kringle's candy cane **** tip dripping on lips
sweet **** water for your daughter
******* to Aaron Carter
**** the rest
I'm all out of ******* to step on
best be getting home to *** on my own chest
test the taste and throw out the rest
I tickle my intestines till I **** out hot stew
putrid black goo with nut chunks and fiber skins
stretching ball skin over my **** rim till it's all one
sack
use bread and sauce from a snack pack to make a sack
sandwich
hold the lettuce between my cheeks and toss my own salad
picturing *** ramming ***** spewing out tasty *****
gluey pools of chlorine smelling salty bliss
I picture gargling ***** while lesbians crawl all over me
vibrating fake skin ***** deep in my **** cave
if you misbehave I'll rip off your face while I squeeze your
**** in my teeth and make you sit on my face after you clean
your *** crease bleached and sweet

Jeremiah was a bullfrog,
but Isaiah was a toad
& what of it,
******.
No one ever wrote a song about him,
I think that's a load
of rock 'n roll *******.

I'm really not sure
how I got here,
to this lonely place.
Was it the wind,
the sins of my father,
mother.
Perhaps, it was all
those pretty faces
I fell for,
who took traces of me
& left me brokenhearted.
And though I'm not a boy anymore,
I'm not just another hard toy either.
Seems like that's
all I've ever been to them.
But maybe I'll write
a book of poetry someday
& try to work this out
with heartfelt words.
Look, no hands.

Snail glides across
Peeking out of its lonely abode
Solitary, and travels alone
Shying away at the faintest touch
Retreating in the abode
How far it may have wandered
Finds the quiet haven miles away

I don’t want to perpetuate the produce – consume loop
but when I don’t, I feel like such a lazy moocher
Could I play guitar near after dark bars for $23 an hour?
Victor and I did that once, for $11.50 each
Untaxed, that’s better than my dour real job
So, if I really made my place at a street corner, I’d be a smart earner

But then I’d be a fixture, like the accordion man and the bums with PVC buckets
The bar goers would soon hate me for chumping them out of their cash
with three gritty “Heart of Gold” covers
Then soon the mediocre bums would jump me and Riot, my guitar
She’ll smash into the walk under a Irish flag in front of Murphy’s Law,
while drinkers whoop and punch the air
The bucket goes over my head
and the accordion bellows squeeze round my neck

There once was a dog, as happy as a lark,
With one small defect: he couldn't quite bark!

But one fateful day, and we're not sure quite how,
That dog met a cat - who couldn't meee-owww!

(People say they're a quiet couple.)