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Good taste is very difficult to define:
Some people like to kiss pigs' bottoms
And some people like to eat snails
And some snail-eaters prefer their snails dead.

But my definition of good taste is this:
If a man takes a woman to his bed
Only to discover she is a hunchback,
He abstains from playing Alsatians.

For the uninformed, "playing Alsatians"
(or German Shepherd Dogs if you prefer)
Refers to love-making *******,
A popular and sophisticated modus copulandi
Favoured by people of upmarket ****** tastes,
Only bettered by doing it "up the *******"
As we scholars and learned academics
Tend to express it at moments of stress,
Especially when in full diarrhoeic flow.
I once ****** a girl in a train;
She was short, rather fat and quite plain;
The smell of stale *****
Which arose from her bunk
Obliged me to **** her again
A further poem from my MANLY side
NEW neighbors came to the corner house at Congress and Green streets.
The look of their clean white curtains was the same as the rim of a nun's bonnet.
One way was an oyster pail factory, one way they made candy, one way paper boxes, strawboard cartons.
The warehouse trucks shook the dust of the ways loose and the wheels whirled dust-there was dust of hoof and wagon wheel and rubber tire-dust of police and fire wagons-dust of the winds that circled at midnights and noon listening to no prayers.
"O mother, I know the heart of you," I sang passing the rim of a nun's bonnet-O white curtains-and people clean as the prayers of Jesus here in the faded ramshackle at Congress and Green.
Dust and the thundering trucks won-the barrages of the street wheels and the lawless wind took their way-was it five weeks or six the little mother, the new neighbors, battled and then took away the white prayers in the windows?
I hate the way you hold cigarettes
and how you never drunk text me
at 3am. I want to be the person you
think of when a sloppy drunkard
is kissing you at a bar. His breath
rank with stale stogies, light beer,
and cheap whiskey. He uses way too
much tongue and swears his ****
won’t fit in a ******. He couldn’t
spell ******* and even if he uses
his fingers, it’s not enough to make you
***. I hate bad lovers and that’s all
I imagine you with. Dudes who say
“wanna play just the tip?” and other
lame *** **** because nobody ever
told them “ladies first” and you have
to stimulate the ****.

— The End —