(° ͜ʖ ͡°)  ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)


I am not nearly half done with your deliciously-asinine pole quarter
in the maelstrom of Tom Verlaine's interpretive, breakin' goal sorter
'neath red Heinz factory vats a rat, vole & chipmunking-mole porter
******* to elongate linearly a pornocratic guy's deader soul shorter
For you girly love I shall militantly refuse to relinquish & squander
provisions for amateurish gynecologic care that'll inwardly launder
stem to stern tissue clumps from your Fallopians to way out yonder
to broad ports, portals & portions of which I cannot be more fonder
even of your fuzzy muffin tuft bleached 30 Sassoon shades blonder
under a D.H.S./Orwellian 1984 hoax where medic is first responder
It's inevitable everybody that wondrous things will never ever cease
& it is 'cause Martin Luther, Junior died so we can all live in peace:
cost mart & loo Thor **** June yore dyed sue we con olive in peas
cuss mar & Lou Thor coot Jew nor tried zoo weakin' olive in piece
cods Martian Lew shirkin' chew war tied zoot ekin' shah livin' pees
cousin Mars & looser **** Jeweler tide sew we kin haul liftin' peas

HOW TO BE THE MOST HELPFUL NEIGHBOR IN THE WORLD EVER
~ "Rise from your flabby *** to help me *****. I'm your neighbor."

Onto my stump I rub expensive, aloe vera stump cream
before and after swimming in an icy, mountain stream
'cause I don't want to be on the stumpy, jungle-rot team

Half way through May, again, I anticipate with regularity the June month, as my colon waves in spasms, goose stepping in quick time to June. I should look up old friends, old ****-buddies if I were a homosexual (which I'm not). It seems relaxing to sit when spoken to; to speak from a seat.
   “I assure you,” the waitress said with the tight skirt.
   “That's ****,” I said.
   “What is?” She asked.
   “The word 'assure' because it's got '***' in it,” I said.
   “Even better,” she observed in a tight-*** framing way.
“Titusville, get it? Tight *** Ville?!”
   “Oh yeah. Will you let me measure you against all women?”
   “Sure,” she said. “It's the least that I could do.”
   Panic came upon me like it was 1929.
   “I'd sell everything to be rid of my things.”
   “I hear you,” she said while adjusting her hearing aid.
   “If you'll trust me just once I won't have to
buy a second pregnancy test,” I informed.
   “I will. Besides, in the end, it'll all be
worth it, the ointment – everything.”
   I could see her better because I sat behind her from where
she stood. “I'd **** a million democrats on your say-so,”
said I to get between her ***'s puffy parts.
   “I love you,” she whispered as I gave
her a tip, my tip, just enough to win.    
   “Do you miss me mucho big? Am I not too mucho
macho for you?” I asked very Spanishly.
   “You're **** when you talk wet-back. Are you a wet-back?”
   “No, I'm not a wet-back.”
   “That's good. I don't mind a little grease now and again.”
   “Me too.”
   The temperature was drooping (& dropping) and
I knew that pipes froze at a low temperature.
   “Take off your ****** and let me feed you a taco.”
   “I don't wear underpants.”
   “Me too.”
   That night our waitress/customer relationship
remained whole as I pulled out just enough to win.

Onto my stump I rub expensive, aloe vera stump cream
before and after swimming in an icy, mountain stream
'cause I don't want to be on the stumpy, jungle-rot team

( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)
Refugees flee what's so repressively dangerous that it's forever fled
The bloodied blood biz passes pathogens to bleeders bloodily bled
It is a dreadful situation that ****** folks find difficult not to dread
A gent is obliged to face conflict face first short of living in a shed,
plying the rough trade, rough-necking with ******* or playing dead
When my cruddy teeth are encrusted I brush the crud off with Crest
while working drainward with this golden cake of soap called Zest
Like a woman on public assistance I refuse to let my choppers rest
There was a time when talk of quiz was a precursor to an Iowa test
My basic skills are determinedly under-cutting my housewife guest
whose stems run north to her malignant tissue free mammae breast
In movies shooting orphans with high-powered rifles is done in jest
'cause in Amerika making ammunition is what wage-slaves do best

( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)  ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)
Refugees flee what's so repressively dangerous that it's forever fled
The bloodied blood biz passes pathogens to bleeders bloodily bled
It is a dreadful situation that ****** folks find difficult not to dread
A gent is obliged to face conflict face first short of living in a shed,
plying the rough trade, rough-necking with ******* or playing dead

( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)  ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)
Half way through May, again, I anticipate with regularity the June month, as my colon waves in spasms, goose stepping in quick time to June. I should look up old friends, old ****-buddies if I were a homosexual (which I'm not). It seems relaxing to sit when spoken to; to speak from a seat.
   “I assure you,” the waitress said with the tight skirt.
   “That's ****,” I said.
   “What is?” She asked.
   “The word 'assure' because it's got '***' in it,” I said.
   “Even better,” she observed in a tight-*** framing way.
“Titusville, get it? Tight *** Ville?!”
   “Oh yeah. Will you let me measure you against all women?”
   “Sure,” she said. “It's the least that I could do.”
   Panic came upon me like it was 1929.
   “I'd sell everything to be rid of my things.”
   “I hear you,” she said while adjusting her hearing aid.
   “If you'll trust me just once I won't have to
buy a second pregnancy test,” I informed.
   “I will. Besides, in the end, it'll all be
worth it, the ointment – everything.”
   I could see her better because I sat behind her from where
she stood. “I'd **** a million democrats on your say-so,”
said I to get between her ***'s puffy parts.
   “I love you,” she whispered as I gave
her a tip, my tip, just enough to win.    
   “Do you miss me mucho big? Am I not too mucho
macho for you?” I asked very Spanishly.
   “You're **** when you talk wet-back. Are you a wet-back?”
   “No, I'm not a wet-back.”
   “That's good. I don't mind a little grease now and again.”
   “Me too.”
   The temperature was drooping (& dropping) and
I knew that pipes froze at a low temperature.
   “Take off your ****** and let me feed you a taco.”
   “I don't wear underpants.”
   “Me too.”
   That night our waitress/customer relationship
remained whole as I pulled out just enough to win.

► Los chinos dicen: "La vida y la muerte son la provincia de los cielos."

( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)  ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)
Half way through May, again, I anticipate with regularity the June month, as my colon waves in spasms, goose stepping in quick time to June. I should look up old friends, old ****-buddies if I were a homosexual (which I'm not). It seems relaxing to sit when spoken to; to speak from a seat.
   “I assure you,” the waitress said with the tight skirt.
   “That's ****,” I said.
   “What is?” She asked.
   “The word 'assure' because it's got '***' in it,” I said.
   “Even better,” she observed in a tight-*** framing way.
“Titusville, get it? Tight *** Ville?!”
   “Oh yeah. Will you let me measure you against all women?”
   “Sure,” she said. “It's the least that I could do.”
   Panic came upon me like it was 1929.
   “I'd sell everything to be rid of my things.”
   “I hear you,” she said while adjusting her hearing aid.
   “If you'll trust me just once I won't have to
buy a second pregnancy test,” I informed.
   “I will. Besides, in the end, it'll all be
worth it, the ointment – everything.”
   I could see her better because I sat behind her from where
she stood. “I'd **** a million democrats on your say-so,”
said I to get between her ***'s puffy parts.
   “I love you,” she whispered as I gave
her a tip, my tip, just enough to win.    
   “Do you miss me mucho big? Am I not too mucho
macho for you?” I asked very Spanishly.
   “You're **** when you talk wet-back. Are you a wet-back?”
   “No, I'm not a wet-back.”
   “That's good. I don't mind a little grease now and again.”
   “Me too.”
   The temperature was drooping (& dropping) and
I knew that pipes froze at a low temperature.
   “Take off your ****** and let me feed you a taco.”
   “I don't wear underpants.”
   “Me too.”
   That night our waitress/customer relationship
remained whole as I pulled out just enough to win.

► Los chinos dicen: "La vida y la muerte son la provincia de los cielos."

( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)  ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)  ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)
Half way through May, again, I anticipate with regularity the June month, as my colon waves in spasms, goose stepping in quick time to June. I should look up old friends, old ****-buddies if I were a homosexual (which I'm not). It seems relaxing to sit when spoken to; to speak from a seat.
   “I assure you,” the waitress said with the tight skirt.
   “That's ****,” I said.
   “What is?” She asked.
   “The word 'assure' because it's got '***' in it,” I said.
   “Even better,” she observed in a tight-*** framing way.
“Titusville, get it? Tight *** Ville?!”
   “Oh yeah. Will you let me measure you against all women?”
   “Sure,” she said. “It's the least that I could do.”
   Panic came upon me like it was 1929.
   “I'd sell everything to be rid of my things.”
   “I hear you,” she said while adjusting her hearing aid.
   “If you'll trust me just once I won't have to
buy a second pregnancy test,” I informed.
   “I will. Besides, in the end, it'll all be
worth it, the ointment – everything.”
   I could see her better because I sat behind her from where
she stood. “I'd **** a million democrats on your say-so,”
said I to get between her ***'s puffy parts.
   “I love you,” she whispered as I gave
her a tip, my tip, just enough to win.    
   “Do you miss me mucho big? Am I not too mucho
macho for you?” I asked very Spanishly.
   “You're **** when you talk wet-back. Are you a wet-back?”
   “No, I'm not a wet-back.”
   “That's good. I don't mind a little grease now and again.”
   “Me too.”
   The temperature was drooping (& dropping) and
I knew that pipes froze at a low temperature.
   “Take off your ****** and let me feed you a taco.”
   “I don't wear underpants.”
   “Me too.”
   That night our waitress/customer relationship
remained whole as I pulled out just enough to win.

► Los chinos dicen: "La vida y la muerte son la provincia de los cielos."

( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)     ( ͡◉ ͜ʖ ͡◉)

Here on 2 limbs hobbles a 110-year-old pervert, Kirk Douglas, who
fugged fugging Marilyn Monroe fugless like 1 Aussie **** Kug lass
***** it tightly, sweet, slutty ***** in a perch from the lowest mast
with the queer **** who kicked in your teeth after you back-sassed
a family ******, I meant therapist, 47 centuries ago in the recent past
whilst kaffirs sold for a displaced value & **** got 'em lynched fast
as slaves were replacement-ready when white girls got them gassed
as ******* were placed steady when pink-titted girls had 'em gassed
as slaves were replaced already 'cause **** broads got them gassed
'cause any way you mounted it the leg-breakers struck a broken cast

( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)  ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)  ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)
Half way through May, again, I anticipate with regularity the June month, as my colon waves in spasms, goose-stepping in quick time to June. I should look up old friends, old ****-buddies if I were a homosexual (which I'm not). It seems relaxing to sit when spoken to; to speak from a seat.
   “I assure you,” the waitress said with the tight skirt.
   “That's ****,” I said.
   “What is?” She asked.
   “The word 'assure' because it's got '***' in it,” I said.
   “Even better,” she observed in a tight-*** framing way.
“Titusville, get it? Tight *** Ville?!”
   “Oh yeah. Will you let me measure you against all women?”
   “Sure,” she said. “It's the least that I could do.”
   Panic came upon me like it was 1929.
   “I'd sell everything to be rid of my things.”
   “I hear you,” she said while adjusting her hearing aid.
   “If you'll trust me just once I won't have to
buy a second pregnancy test,” I informed.
   “I will. Besides, in the end, it'll all be
worth it, the ointment – everything.”
   I could see her better because I sat behind her from where
she stood. “I'd **** a million democrats on your say-so,”
said I to get between her ***'s puffy parts.
   “I love you,” she whispered as I gave
her a tip, my tip, just enough to win.    
   “Do you miss me mucho big? Am I not too mucho
macho for you?” I asked very Spanishly.
   “You're **** when you talk wet-back. Are you a wet-back?”
   “No, I'm not a wet-back.”
   “That's good. I don't mind a little grease now and again.”
   “Me too.”
   The temperature was drooping (& dropping) and
I knew that pipes froze at a low temperature.
   “Take off your ****** and let me feed you a taco.”
   “I don't wear underpants.”
   “Me too.”
   That night our waitress/customer relationship
remained whole as I pulled out just enough to win.

► Los chinos dicen: "La vida y la muerte son la provincia de los cielos."

( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)
Here on 2 limbs hobbles a 110-year-old pervert, Kirk Douglas, who
fugged fugging Marilyn Monroe fugless like 1 Aussie **** Kug lass
***** it tightly, sweet, slutty ***** in a perch from the lowest mast
with the queer **** who kicked in your teeth after you back-sassed
a family ******, I meant therapist, 47 centuries ago in the recent past
whilst kaffirs sold for a displaced value & **** got 'em lynched fast
as slaves were replacement-ready when white girls got them gassed
as ******* were placed steady when pink-titted girls had 'em gassed
as slaves were replaced already 'cause **** broads got them gassed
'cause any way you mounted it the leg-breakers struck a broken cast
from short shards of a super speedway's superficial asphaltical blast
that bombed big red dog Clifford's **** ½ so big as the 1 before last
so as to cover civilized folks & render traditional gay queers aghast
at the sick **** rumblings of organized colon-clutterer Thomas Nast
& his merrie band of coolies & ne're-do-wells routinely out-classed
dead Charles W. Fairbanks, his nephropathy & deeds done ½-assed
in 1909 when Wales appeared, to ****** ***** on dope, tall & vast
& open to the dirt-bag raunchiest, slickest, iconoclastical iconoclast
whose morganatical marriage meant zero to Cymru lepers harassed
by what ****-****-licking/puking anti-popes did for embarrassment
in the Vatican's most x-pope steady, paederastically-cozy apartment
that was no-less bigger than the *******-******-ghetto compartment
where it was ebonically-taught what the worst navy-bean **** meant
after eating obese Santa's guts before the final Christmas card's sent
Tick them off, each one's deader than the other for keeps like butter
***-spread 'cross lower labial lips that spit, sprawl, sputter & stutter
in the gray-cancer corpse cream cheese of Laura & Isaac Perlmutter
living the lives of 439 felonious fugitives in pig-****-garbage clutter
I was tossin' large rocks at myself when a large rock struck my face
bashin' in my nose to make me look like I was from an inferior race
I was lucky to have my passport if questioned by whites just in case
I was throwin' rocks at myself when a big one struck me in my face
smashing my nose to make me look like I was from an inferior race
I held a new passport, if white officials wanted to see it, just in case
I was droppin' big rocks on myself when big rocks crushed my face
widenin' my Caucasoid nose like an ugly pig of an undesirable race
I needed a good passport, if white officers demanded it, just in case
I was killin' myself with boulders when 1 race-mixed my ***** race
bashin' in my nose to make me look like I had an inferior **** face
I possessed a valid passport, if white cops demanded it, just in case
flattening my nose to make me look as if I was from a Mongol race
I possessed a valid visa, if white pigs demanded 1, & a can of mace
because even with a **** nose I could flee Vietnam without a trace
with leprous tourists, spastically limping to an unknown someplace
far from the rigors of a religiously-generous-bombed-out home base
queerly accented in wool hung crêpe & whitework embroidery lace
that trails down downed trails florid in flower for a perfumed chase
over a broken crutch mountain to ******* cripples via bracing brace
that holds Big Bertha beyond Elton John's pacemaker's stodgy pace
as excitement builds when 2 ****-buddies present Elton with a vase
that allows Big Bertha to under-pace Elton John's pacemaker's pace
as excitement builds when a ****-buddy shoves up into Elton a vase

( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)
Give me your hirsute/textile/hombre love you lovely hairy rag man,
with your pointy nose, unlimbered leg & warts from Larry Hagman
who from the horse's mountable side snuck up like an airy stag ram
Don't take what little's left via state Santa Christmas merry bag ban
Let's dress like women in debt at the oldest Chuck Berry drag stand
My happiness is easily seen in blood-letting cirques as corpuscular
while my rippling backwards frontage is of a physique so muscular
that it is known by fat aunt Joan as socked-in and highly avuncular
In icy Florida I pine for Klondike my favorite Alaskan lesbian lover
who, in our gay igloo, resembled that big oily ****** Danny Glover

( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)
Refugees flee what's so repressively dangerous that it's forever fled
The bloodied blood biz passes pathogens to bleeders bloodily bled
It is a dreadful situation that ****** folks find difficult not to dread
A gent is obliged to face conflict face first short of living in a shed,
plying the rough trade, rough-necking with ******* or playing dead
When my cruddy teeth are encrusted I brush the crud off with Crest
while working drainward with this golden cake of soap called Zest
Like a woman on public assistance I refuse to let my choppers rest
There was a time when talk of quiz was a precursor to an Iowa test
My basic skills are determinedly under-cutting my housewife guest
whose stems run north to her malignant tissue free mammae breast
In movies shooting orphans with high-powered rifles is done in jest
'cause in Amerika making ammunition is what wage-slaves do best

So many times I have hungered for your penetrative love. Your shirt was torn when you crashed that new helicopter. I couldn't believe that you weren't killed. The Grand Canyon is deep. I pray that your helicopter is operational. My sister is having another baby again. Can you believe it? Skipper wouldn't strip on the ship, even after I struck, with an oar, her lip. It's John Hinckley's foster love that makes me fester. I respond in attack-mode to mod attacks. I tire of me after long spurts. The pope's people-friendly, while I'm 'possum-nutty. It's true. I'm faultfully honest. Rose, like risen, is the past tense of rise.

So many times I have hungered for your penetrative love. Your shirt was torn when you crashed that new helicopter. I couldn't believe that you weren't killed. The Grand Canyon is deep. I pray that your helicopter is operational. My sister is having another baby again. Can you believe it? Skipper wouldn't strip on the ship, even after I struck, with an oar, her lip. It's John Hinckley's foster love that makes me fester. I respond in attack-mode to mod attacks. I tire of me after long spurts. The pope's people-friendly, while I'm 'possum-nutty. It's true. I'm faultfully honest. Rose, like risen, is the past tense of rise. André Previn ain't bound for heaven, as I don't stick my hairy **** out when I'm going down the truck route.

( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) ( ͡◉ ͜ʖ ͡◉)

Robert Steele on central bankers: “These people are selling us credit they don't have so they can take profits they don't deserve.”

( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) ( ͡◉ ͜ʖ ͡◉)

So many times I have hungered for your penetrative love. Your shirt was torn when you crashed that new helicopter. I couldn't believe that you weren't killed. The Grand Canyon is deep. I pray that your helicopter is operational. My sister is having another baby again. Can you believe it? Skipper wouldn't strip on the ship, even after I struck, with an oar, her lip. It's John Hinckley's foster love that makes me fester. I respond in attack-mode to mod attacks. I tire of me after long spurts. The pope's people-friendly, while I'm 'possum-nutty. It's true. I'm faultfully honest. Rose, like risen, is the past tense of rise. André Previn ain't bound for heaven, as I don't stick my hairy **** out when I'm going down the truck route.

So many times I have hungered for your penetrative love. Your shirt was torn when you crashed that new helicopter. I couldn't believe that you weren't killed. The Grand Canyon is deep. I pray that your helicopter is operational. My sister is having another baby again. Can you believe it? Skipper wouldn't strip on the ship, even after I struck, with an oar, her lip. It's John Hinckley's foster love that makes me fester. I respond in attack-mode to mod attacks. I tire of me after long spurts. The pope's people-friendly, while I'm 'possum-nutty. It's true. I'm faultfully honest. Rose, like risen, is the past tense of rise. André Previn ain't bound for heaven, as I don't stick my hairy **** out when I'm going down the truck route.

( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) ( ͡◉ ͜ʖ ͡◉) ✅✅✅✅✅
✅✅✅✅✅✅✅✅✅✅✅✅✅

Here on 2 limbs hobbles a 110-year-old pervert, Kirk Douglas, who
fugged fugging Marilyn Monroe fugless like 1 Aussie **** Kug lass
***** it tightly, sweet, slutty ***** in a perch from the lowest mast
with the queer **** who kicked in your teeth after you back-sassed
a family ******, I meant therapist, 47 centuries ago in the recent past
whilst kaffirs sold for a displaced value & **** got 'em lynched fast
as slaves were replacement-ready when white girls got them gassed
as ******* were placed steady when pink-titted girls had 'em gassed
as slaves were replaced already 'cause **** broads got them gassed
'cause any way you mounted it the leg-breakers struck a broken cast



( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)
Give me your hirsute/textile/hombre love you lovely hairy rag man,
with your pointy nose, unlimbered leg & warts from Larry Hagman
who from the horse's mountable side snuck up like an airy stag ram
Don't take what little's left via state Santa Christmas merry bag ban
Let's dress like women in debt at the oldest Chuck Berry drag stand
My happiness is easily seen in blood-letting cirques as corpuscular
while my rippling backwards frontage is of a physique so muscular
that it is known by fat aunt Joan as socked-in and highly avuncular
In icy Florida I pine for Klondike my favorite Alaskan lesbian lover
who, in our gay igloo, resembled that big oily ****** Danny Glover


( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)
Refugees flee what's so repressively dangerous that it's forever fled
The bloodied blood biz passes pathogens to bleeders bloodily bled
It is a dreadful situation that ****** folks find difficult not to dread
A gent is obliged to face conflict face first short of living in a shed,
plying the rough trade, rough-necking with ******* or playing dead
When my cruddy teeth are encrusted I brush the crud off with Crest
while working drainward with this golden cake of soap called Zest
Like a woman on public assistance I refuse to let my choppers rest
There was a time when talk of quiz was a precursor to an Iowa test
My basic skills are determinedly under-cutting my housewife guest
whose stems run north to her malignant tissue free mammae breast
In movies shooting orphans with high-powered rifles is done in jest
'cause in Amerika making ammunition is what wage-slaves do best

( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)  ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)
Half way through May, again, I anticipate with regularity the June month, as my colon waves in spasms, goose stepping in quick time to June. I should look up old friends, old ****-buddies if I were a homosexual (which I'm not). It seems relaxing to sit when spoken to; to speak from a seat.
   “I assure you,” the waitress said with the tight skirt.
   “That's ****,” I said.
   “What is?” She asked.
   “The word 'assure' because it's got '***' in it,” I said.
   “Even better,” she observed in a tight-*** framing way.
“Titusville, get it? Tight *** Ville?!”
   “Oh yeah. Will you let me measure you against all women?”
   “Sure,” she said. “It's the least that I could do.”
   Panic came upon me like it was 1929.
   “I'd sell everything to be rid of my things.”
   “I hear you,” she said while adjusting her hearing aid.
   “If you'll trust me just once I won't have to
buy a second pregnancy test,” I informed.
   “I will. Besides, in the end, it'll all be
worth it, the ointment – everything.”
   I could see her better because I sat behind her from where
she stood. “I'd **** a million democrats on your say-so,”
said I to get between her ***'s puffy parts.
   “I love you,” she whispered as I gave
her a tip, my tip, just enough to win.    
   “Do you miss me mucho big? Am I not too mucho
macho for you?” I asked very Spanishly.
   “You're **** when you talk wet-back. Are you a wet-back?”
   “No, I'm not a wet-back.”
   “That's good. I don't mind a little grease now and again.”
   “Me too.”
   The temperature was drooping (& dropping) and
I knew that pipes froze at a low temperature.
   “Take off your ****** and let me feed you a taco.”
   “I don't wear underpants.”
   “Me too.”
   That night our waitress/customer relationship
remained whole as I pulled out just enough to win.

► Los chinos dicen: "La vida y la muerte son la provincia de los cielos."

Half way through May, again, I anticipate with regularity the June month, as my colon waves in spasms, goose stepping in quick time to June. I should look up old friends, old ****-buddies if I were a homosexual (which I'm not). It seems relaxing to sit when spoken to; to speak from a seat.
   “I assure you,” the waitress said with the tight skirt.
   “That's ****,” I said.
   “What is?” She asked.
   “The word 'assure' because it's got '***' in it,” I said.
   “Even better,” she observed in a tight-*** framing way.
“Titusville, get it? Tight *** Ville?!”
   “Oh yeah. Will you let me measure you against all women?”
   “Sure,” she said. “It's the least that I could do.”
   Panic came upon me like it was 1929.
   “I'd sell everything to be rid of my things.”
   “I hear you,” she said while adjusting her hearing aid.
   “If you'll trust me just once I won't have to
buy a second pregnancy test,” I informed.
   “I will. Besides, in the end, it'll all be
worth it, the ointment – everything.”
   I could see her better because I sat behind her from where
she stood. “I'd **** a million democrats on your say-so,”
said I to get between her ***'s puffy parts.
   “I love you,” she whispered as I gave
her a tip, my tip, just enough to win.    
   “Do you miss me mucho big? Am I not too mucho
macho for you?” I asked very Spanishly.
   “You're **** when you talk wet-back. Are you a wet-back?”
   “No, I'm not a wet-back.”
   “That's good. I don't mind a little grease now and again.”
   “Me too.”
   The temperature was drooping (& dropping) and
I knew that pipes froze at a low temperature.
   “Take off your ****** and let me feed you a taco.”
   “I don't wear underpants.”
   “Me too.”
   That night our waitress/customer relationship
remained whole as I pulled out just enough to win.

There's a mania for ****-crimping amongst ****-crimping maniacs
in city-states where *****-of-the-walk flock, mock, stomp & shock

Your thighs are chubby
& your fingers are stubby
You sprained your neck
in a recent car wreck
You suffer angina
down to your ******
On your breast sits
2 cherry-red *******

Your thighs are chubby
& your fingers are stubby
You sprained your neck
in a recent car wreck
You suffer angina
down to your ******
On your breast sits
2 cherry-red *******

It's because I care, not because I give a ****.

Your thighs are chubby
& your fingers are stubby
You sprained your neck
in a recent car wreck
You suffer angina
down to your ******
On your breast sits
2 cherry-red *******

Every breaded baker on flat Earth with a flit in the least must avoid
the infamously notorious Sammy Davis goy-lovin' **** Yeast-'rhoid
I need a new heart attack in my chest from ***** Christopher Lloyd
whose left eye socket was anatomically harvested from ***** Boyd
whose leftward eye socket was anatomically avulsed by Billy Boyd
whose necrophobic love for men undead made embalmers annoyed

Your thighs are chubby
& your fingers are stubby
You sprained your neck
in a recent car wreck
You suffer angina
down to your ******
On your breast sits
2 cherry-red *******

You beat me with a rusty crow bar
after running me over with your car
I sustained horrific injuries to my face
before you sprayed my eyes with mace

Your beautiful smile really got me
before you pulled a gun and shot me

Our passion-charged love begins in the **** line of your crack,
extending north from your lard *** to the middle of your back

Your really stupid life is so miserable and I know that I shouldn't
blame you for committing suicide now because I really couldn't

No scalpels below the belly button or above the chin,
because with surgeons, that's the only way you can win

horn coil
corn oil

You beat me with a rusty crow bar
after running me over with your car
I sustained horrific injuries to my face
before you sprayed my eyes with mace

Your beautiful smile really got me
before you pulled a gun and shot me

Our passion-charged love begins in the **** line of your crack,
extending north from your lard *** to the middle of your back

Your really stupid life is so miserable and I know that I shouldn't
blame you for committing suicide now because I really couldn't

No scalpels below the belly button or above the chin,
because with surgeons, that's the only way you can win

horn coil
corn oil

You beat me with a rusty crow bar
after running me over with your car
I sustained horrific injuries to my face
before you sprayed my eyes with mace

Your beautiful smile really got me
before you pulled a gun and shot me

Our passion-charged love begins in the **** line of your crack,
extending north from your lard *** to the middle of your back

Your really stupid life is so miserable and I know that I shouldn't
blame you for committing suicide now because I really couldn't

No scalpels below the belly button or above the chin,
because with surgeons, that's the only way you can win

horn coil
corn oil

When my cruddy teeth are encrusted I brush the crud off with Crest
while working drain-ward with this golden cake of soap called Zest
Like a woman on public assistance I refuse to let my choppers rest

When my cruddy teeth are encrusted I brush the crud off with Crest
while working drainward with this golden cake of soap called Zest
Like a woman on public assistance I refuse to let my choppers rest
There was a time when talk of quiz was a precursor to an Iowa test
My basic skills are determinedly under-cutting my housewife guest
whose stems run north to her malignant tissue free mammae breast
In movies shooting orphans with high-powered rifles is done in jest
'cause in Amerika making ammunition is what wage-slaves do best

Just in case you want to sue let me correct failing parts of your face
with injectable botulism food poisoning & sand-based silicone glue
after I probe your ****** like an obstetrician whose patients are few
in number & big in faulty mitral valves that render normal lips blue
in number & big in prolapsed mitral valves that turn ready lips blue