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 Mar 2017
Edna Sweetlove
scrawled on public lav wall
expression of desire
meet for cockfun
bring own lubricant
hateful avarice
petty meanness
******* FATFACE
Good, innit?
 Oct 2016
Edna Sweetlove
'Twas in the park one day
I met a chappie gay;
We went behind a bush
Where I saw his **** ****;
And I evinced a shock
When he took out his ****
(it was of such a size
it would have won a prize).

Now, so many years have passed
How many times we've arsed
Each other I don't know,
But each time we have a go
And watch each other come
Up an outsider's ***
We know our love is true
As we call out "OO! OO! OO!"
 Oct 2016
Edna Sweetlove
Adolf ****** was a German I'm sure you all well know:
He was born in Austria but lived in Germany a long time ago.
He was a man who was fuelled by patriotic ambition,
(he had other things on his mind apart from ******* and coition).

The German people were the victims of economic recession,
Caused by the French government's revanchist aggression,
And der schoene Adolf promised he would sort out the place,
And would restore them to their rightful position as ze Master Race.

With stirring speeches and a fantastic propaganda machine,
His political opponents and ze Jews he loudly demeaned,
And thus, plus a teensy-weensy bit of naughty oppression,
He was able to fulfil his great and glorious mission.

Although some Germans re ****** were a little bit unhappy,
Most of them thought he was a really top rate chappie;
The rest of the world remained relatively silent on the matter too,
Not realising just what old Adolf really intended to do.

In the USA they gave him place of honour on the front page of 'Time'
Which surely sent out to Adolf quite a hopeful sign;
And secretly millions cheered him on when they got the news
Of what he and his cronies were doing to those Jews.

When a man like ****** you choose to blithely ignore
Then you should work out that what comes next is war;
Which is what happened with a Bang! Crash! Boom! and Thump!
But ******'s not nearly half as ugly as that awful Donald Trump.
I post a poem written by a ******* friend of mine, Cedric Snotpicker.
 Apr 2016
Edna Sweetlove
A poem by my friend Stan Blackberg (the total ******)

There are flowers standing proudly, one for each whose loved ones mourn,
Speaking out so clear and loudly, for that fateful treacherous morn,
When the aircrafts bashed them up and all their flesh got burnt & torn!

Do we honour them with killing, taking up arms to spill more blood,
Or take lesson if we’re willing, a bitter pill for common good,
Or sit unbeguiled with our faces stuffed with fattening food?

There’s no god would take such action, justify such murderous deed,
Those insane within such factions, find posthumously they heed,
It's upon such wickedosity that our nostrils froth and bleed.

Hear the painful hard earned lesson, lest their names we desecrate,
Take not slaughter as your banner making killing escalate,
And by no means forget to have a mutual *******!

Place our sentries all united, shed thee not another drop,
Silence now all angry gunfire, when’s the killing ever stop.
And the blood falls from above with a loudish plip and plop.
Stan is a ****** but he gave me £1 to post this here.
 Feb 2016
Edna Sweetlove
My dear old Granny,
How I shall miss her
What a tragedy.

She crossed over the road
To avoid walking under a ladder,
Being of a somewhat superstitous bent.

Thus she got squashed by a bus,
Like a plump ripe tomato
In spaghetti alla vongole.

So no more shall I have to suffer
Her slipping me the tongue
When I kiss her good night.

But the stench of her filthy farts
Will always remain with me
As will the cushion stains.
 Feb 2016
Edna Sweetlove
My sister boasted to me one night in a Liverpool pub
She had *** with a couple of coppers down the Mersey Tunnel.
'You're nothing bit a fat slapper' I scolded her,
As she examined the selfie I had taken
Just a few moments earlier of me
And her best friend up against the ladies' bog door.
"Good likeness, innit?" I commented and the
She farted stentoriously in surprise and,
The follow-through oozed down her dimpled thigh.
 Jan 2016
Edna Sweetlove
Night falls over Soho and, gazing into some cheap ****'s eyes
Over a candelit-chequered-food-stained tablecloth,
Beneath my belt an immense ******* lurks leakily,
The seams of my ****** soaked with bursting lust,
My groin twitching in desire for her wanton ****-flesh.

Streetlight shining through threadbare curtains
Glinting sexily over my hairy pounding buttocks;
My screamed roars of pleasure echoing
In the deepest depths of her tenth-rate mind;
Her poor brain collapsing in mighty mid-******.

Morning reveals a classy scene to chambermaid's gawp:
Spread-legged cold-as-chilled-salami ****,
Puny brainbox imploded like mashed bananas
By staggering rivulets of overpowering *******
Like a duck's entrails in an unwashed sink.
 Jan 2016
Edna Sweetlove
We had a really fat bird in the morgue last week;
We had to put two tables together
Just to accommodate her bloated mass
And the funeral director said
She'd need a specially reinforced coffin
And a flatbed truck instead of a hearse.

By the way, I think I should debunk
That legend about fat chicks appreciating it more;
She just lay there, like all of the others,
No sign of gratitude what-so-*******-ever.
 Jan 2016
Edna Sweetlove
O Sweet Edna, how can I forget thee!
So beautifully named after the daughter of Count Telfener,
Promoter of the Macaroni railroad,
Home of the monumental Edna Theater (SEE NOTE # BELOW).

I recall a chilly Christmas spent there:
Unfortunately Edna was closed for the day
But I met a nice girl in the one bar that was open
And for only twenty five bucks she went all the way.

By purest chance her name was Edna too,
And she gave me a real Christmas treat;
I could so easily have fallen for her bigtime
Had it not been for the smell of her size twelve feet.

O how your architectural marvels will live in my memory
Dear principal "city" of Jackson County, O Edna divine!
Home to six thousand Texan souls
Of whom only one in five lives below the poverty line.

NOTE:-

(#) Actually a cinema and disused anyway. Paste this link for a photo: http://media1.picsearch.com/is?hWN6taRELewhHHMx-FMVpQOXSK4aNdmtABXGB-ZxEyA&height;=257 (if it doesn't work, don't blame me).
This is written as a tribute to the so-called "city" of Edna, into which I stumbled one chilly Christmas Eve.  The City of Edna is rightly proud of two of its illustrious sons and daughters: "Stone Cold" Steve Austin (professional wrestler) and Juanita Slusher (alias Candy Barr), the famous American burlesque dancer, adult magazine model and stripper.

Mr Austin perfected his trademark finishing maneuvre, the Stone Cold Stunner, to win the "King of the Ring" tournament in 1996. After defeating Jake "The Snake" Roberts, a born-again Christian, Stone Cold  said "You sit there and you thump your Bible, and you say your prayers, and it didn't get you anywhere! Talk about your Psalms, talk about John 3:16... Austin 3:16 says I just whipped your ***!".

During the 1950s Candy received nationwide attention for her stripping career in Dallas, Los Angeles, and Las Vegas and for her troubles with the law (including shooting her second husband; and for serving three years in jail for drug possession). In the early 1980s, Candy was presciently acknowledged in the magazine Texas Monthly as a "perfect Texan".

I was lucky only to meet Fat Edna.

As a hint of the high standards you may expect when you visit Edna, here's a review of a "hotel" from TripAdvisor.com...
"When the door was unlocked to our room, I was appalled by the infestation of insects. The were on every surface, including the ceiling, walls, floors, bathroom and tub. The furnishings were vintage 1960s, broken and filthy. There were cobwebs and food cooked unto the microwave. The owner tried to accomodate us by showing us other rooms. All were equally infested and had the same horrid furnishings."  

Choice, totally choice..
 Jan 2016
Edna Sweetlove
Have you ever visited a public *******
When you were really bursting for a dung
And sadly found the only cubicle
Was vile and ill-prepared to meet your needs,
Its stench beyond your wildest nightmare dread?

And yet you bravely held your breath and looking
Down into the cracked, caked enamel bowl
Beheld a horrid, putrid panful there,
The likes of which you never dreamed you'd find
And live to tell the ******* tale to mortal man.

About a hundred people's lurking turds
All heaped and piled up to the very brim,
Some soft and runny, squashed down by the weight
Of countless others, some smudged with blood
Lying there like half-cooked hamburgers.

And there was barely ******* space in the pan
For you to add a steaming trio of your own
To the rancid, obscene horrors lurking there
As you crouched, puking, with your ******* round your ankles
Terrified in case they fell onto the ****-swamped floor.

And you noticed with your reeling senses
That there wasn't any ****** paper either,
Nor had there been for many a long day
Judging from the walls' awesome sorry state
All covered in ****** brown elevens. (SEE NOTE BELOW)
NOTE re "Brown elevens" - just visualise how.........

11 11 11 11 11

might have found their way onto the wall.........................
 Dec 2015
Edna Sweetlove
O beautiful for Donald Trump
Comb-over sent by God
His edicts will surely stump
The most ******* sod.
America! America!
Obese mother of the free
Let cops shoot some coloured folk
Sweet hypocrisy!
 Nov 2015
Edna Sweetlove
Her suicide left a loneliness
only partly ameliorated by
a good *******
with her bereaved Mum
up both gaping holes.
 Nov 2015
Edna Sweetlove
The Marquis de Sade was dead keen on ******
And thought those who weren't deserved a lobotomy;
He ******* all his friends both from the back and the front
So on his gravestone they wrote, "Here lies a right ***** ******* ****".
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