Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
There was an old person of Brill,
Who purchased a shirt with a frill;
But they said, 'Don't you wish,
You mayn't look like a fish,
You obsequious ol person of Brill?'
How  Feb 2010
On Failure
How Feb 2010
Look at the failure, stood over there,
The world his oyster, yet his hands are bare.
Indecisive till the end but confident on the out,
Should've dropped the pride, ended the doubt.

Look at the waster, dwinding away,
Long grown hair, ***** face on display.
Could've been somebody important,
Helped the world out, what a shame he decided to fall stout.

Look at the, deadbeat, crouching, still,
Isn't he brill,
Lifewaster.
Hello, Mirror.
All rights reserved.

Please contact me if you want to use my poetry anywhere, thanks.
Simon Soane  Apr 2016
Dear
Simon Soane Apr 2016
There are a lot of important things needed to be happy in life,
that stop the dark rising and save the mind from strife,
like hilarious acts and moments we find funny
and as much as it pains me to say a bit of money
so we can do other fun things like go on a night out,
singing the hours away with a beam and a shout,
or a sweet song that glistens around the head,
or an engrossing book to read in bed,
ordering a take away and gorging can give a thrill
or back to back box sets on a Netflix and chill,
and just as crucial as having a top mate to phone
is having a place that one can call home.
Having an abode to go to when employment is done
or a domain to grab some water to quell the heat of the sun,
a space to collapse when infused with inebriation,
when getting tired of tracks, a warm safe station,
a place to get ready when revving to go out in the mix,
yeah, you were all of the above dear Flat Six.
Yeah, I’ll hold my hands up, you've been a ace place in which to live,
okay you were full of damp and the bathroom wall flimsy enough to give,
and when the verdant Eden outside was chopped down it made me mad
but you were only a short walk from my Mum and Dads.
You had plenty of perks,
fab tree out back and close to work,
a 24 hour garage a stone's throw away,
that sold the ***** at night and day,
you were near a cracking paper shop that had had 2 bottles of wine for six quid a go,
suffice to say, el vino did flow.
Your living room was massive enough to play big with a cat
"always a good time here" etched on your welcome mat.
Under your roof was awesome, you engendered joy with ease,
effortlessly making great, just like the cleanest breeze.
Now although you as a building yourself is a important component in amaze
other factors also make a simply brilliant phase,
Like when friends came round for fun and revelry
after we had left the club just after three,
we'd all pick up the ingredients for a ***** do
and jump, and groove with soothing coo,
the ether resplendent with "I love you!"
finely balanced between boom and cautious,
chatting committed, gabbing voracious,
sunk into fun under your light,
the wonder of spun on Saturday night.
Now, it wasn't just at the weekend when friends came to say okay,
there were some sweet gatherings on a Wednesday,
no women, no, just a range age of men,
it could only be mid week Breadren,
we could be having a conversation about how New York seems most tourable
when a voice pipes up, "by the way bel ami my cousin has cancer and it's incurable."
There could only be one guy who brings such depressing roars
the harbinger of gloom known as Two Doors.
He'll bleat on about how his niece has no womb and is totally barren
and next to him lives a kingpin drug baron
"they are shifting units at a furious pace
and ski in more in more wizz than ******* Scarface."
He'll change the subject in the blink of an eye
and go from talking about love to who's going to die,
he doesn't like most women, thinks they are a squawking flock,
he loves men though, yeah, he really likes ****.
A mate can come out and say sobbing he doesn't want to be with a lass
while Iain does think, "Ross, let me in your ***."
His friend could weep and cry with a whimpering cough
while all Iain thinks, Ross, **** me off!
Never mind Grinder, get on my fleshy old man log."
The third guy Martin is off shooting up in the bog.
Yeah, lots of people talked in your four walls
but you provided the space for those stupendous *****,
you were brill in December, springing in May,
really awesome in September, probs cos that's when Louise came to stay.
You held our pre festival clutter with happy behest
and often covered in bottles on Monday, a big glassy mess,
oh you had everything, simply one of the best.
As I’ve said, Flat Six you as the area were great
But a paramount importance in that was housemate.
You see some people can bond and connect in the hub of a club
but when sharing an address each other up the wrong way they can rub,
although they can go to a gig and have the most divine of laughs
when they abide in the same abode they go together like low ceilings and giraffes,
arguments start over the heating not being turned off
or who hasn’t took the bins out or who’s had some of the others food to scoff,
they bleat that “you shouldn’t have gone out for that night on the *****
And then made noise when you got in as you knew I was trying to snooze!”
or “why did you have that night on the coke, you see more of Charlie than an oompa loompa
and have World War 3 over a borrowed jumper.
So yeah, it's sweet when you find a shared space dweller
and who you think is swell and you get on really well,
as when after a day at the office and you perhaps want to chill alone
when they rap on your door to discuss the day you're glad their home,
skating through conversations with the p of pace
raucous at pontificating and waiting in the listen space,
bringing the talk with dazzling natter,
singeing the fork with frazzling chatter
to ensure the words cooked go down warm,
go down a treat, go down a storm,
discussing that wowing tomorrow is pay day thrill
and who was to blame for the initial breakup of Ross and Rachel,
top gabbing, it was brill!
Someone who when the elephant in the room is sniff
you both realise it quick and score in a jiff!
And never entertain the waste that is a tiff,
not for us the sign of a rift
simply super, a kind of bliss,
see I love Joe Flat Six, I love him to bits!
Although, like you  and your constant mould
he wasn't perfect (like everyone), if the truth be told,
you see if you follow all the biblical teachings you've been taught
you'd think he would have thought,
"I can help myself to the dental care and washing hygiene, it don't matter that I haven't bought,
I can use what I deem, Si's not the selfish sort,
he'd give me the last drop of his shower gel if he could,
he defiantly would,
so do unto others as they'd do unto me
and as I’ve got this human cleaning fluid for free
I’ll leave him some plentiful dollops on the side so he can bathe in a Lynx Africa infused sea
and I can leave some mouth polish laid in the shape of a cleansing leaf
so he can keep the fillings to zero in his teeth
then I can take the rest as I’ve been true to my sacred beliefs."
Yeah, that's what he could have done.
Instead he grew horns and committed a Luciferian act
and thought "I'm taking all of that!",
Sartini, you Devilish ****.
Nar, I bet you didn't even think that at all,
you were too busy imagining going out and having a ball,
beautifully bouncing off every wall,
riding the waves of Wet Dreams with total aplomb,
spinning tunes while high fiving Tom,
cool as ice cream and hot to trot
country hopping and swigging spirits by the tot,
at least Shannon seems to have diminished, that ****** robot!
she had more wires than C3PO's thighs
and glazed over R2D2 eyes
fair dos you digged her metallic allure
but did you really want to make love with the Terminator?
Ahh but who cares about a bit of shower gel and your cyborg fawning
it was great singing along as the day was dawning
And obvs I know every new beginning comes from some other beginning’s end
But it’s only natural to miss living with one of your best friends.
So far be it from me to encourage your narcissistic gaze
but Joe you can add top housemate to your list of fortes!
So dear Flat Six to summarise
I’ll miss sitting out your back in summer rise
looking through your big tree with my eyes
at the Saturday sun azure blue skies,
I’ll miss that whatever there is to unfold
won’t happen over your threshold,
I’ll miss coming in your space with loads of beer
And chill with tunes while mates appear,
I’ll miss the midnight moving across your floor,
miss my key going in your door,
miss that it’s not your clock telling my time
miss that you’re not mine when I say “who wants to go mine?”
But now you’ll always be more than an address and a collection of bricks
I’ll always love you,
dear Flat Six!
Matthew James  Oct 2016
I
Matthew James Oct 2016
I
I

I'm trying t' find my ID.
I think I'm missing it.
This thing,
This bright, shining light,
It's hiding in my blindsight.
I'm swimming in mist,
Trying t' find ... "I"

First I'm living
In my crib;
Clinging wrists.

Flitting my crib,
I'm Shy
Crying, whiny twit, missing bitty,
With stinky kids, kicking kitty.

I'm missing my crib.

I'm piling thinking bricks with big kids.
Slimy, smirking ***** hiss 'n' spit.
I'm sitting still in ill-fitting shirts,
shirking sight.
Hiding might blind ****** kids crying, "It's billy!!! Skinny ****!!" 'n' smiling in fits.
"Try finding kind kids x"
Finding "whys" in rising minds.
My mind grinds.
I'm kicking tins, spilling drinks.
Sitting in IT,
Sir chillingly insists "it isn't "fly" spilling drinks! "Shy" brings skills. "Why" brings ills."
I'm still shy.

This crib's tiny.
Tiny minds, blind by bling.
Fit chicks with *******,
Thick ****** thinking with *****.
I flit this Brit ****.
Brisk flight,
I find "I"
Simply shimmying "ir(o)n lik(e) li(o)n in zi(o)n".

In Brit, I'm still shilling it,
Finding thrill in it,
Hiding 'til it lifts.
I'm brisk fixing it,
I'm hiding in drinks,
Finishing in clink.
Trying things,
High by night,
Slinking by, finding light.
Thinking "this is it!! I'm in!"
Tricky light. Light trick. Sight trick.
Lying in my mind
It's still ****.

Is it?

His birth...
This child is my kid!
This brill kid!
I'M in this kid!
Big grin :D

First kid is big kid,
Mid kid is silly kid,
Quickly hitch my Miss.
Third kid. This kid, this girl is my girl.
Brill kids!

I bring my bling by flipping kids thinking bricks;
Fixing bits in thinking ink;
I'm finding it stinks.
Kids drink slick skills.
My mind chills with mind filling drills.
Kids grinding, crying spills -
"Sir, it's **** innit?
With missing mining, missing mills,
Im plying skills by filing bills."

I'm plying skills with mind pills.

Mrs "I" is criticising my id
Im minding my Ps n Qs
Biting my lip
Fists tight, shifting slightly
Slinking nightly
This is ****
Hit slight hitch
Hit BIG hitch
"'kin *****!"
I finish with my Mrs

Kids split 'twixt cribs.
Kids trips fix splits.
Kiss lips ***,
"Night night x"
"Light?"
Click light.
Right, "night!"

I'm hiding my ills in girls.
IT pimps, swiping right.
Primp ****.
Minging swill.
Fit chick.
Swift flirt.
Flirt, kiss, flirt, kiss.
Big ****.
Tight slit.
Milky spit.
Wiping ****.
Hiding ***** sight in mind,
I find it sticks.

I drift

Stick tight
Fighting my plight
Grin
"It's 'right"

Missing my crib
My ID
I'm finding my mind
Sticking with it
Fighting silly flirting ****
Try finding inspiring sights
My kids
My crib
My Inking
My Writing
My mind
My eye

I'm kind

I'm "I"
First poem in ages. Playing about with a vowel trick.
Circa 1994  Dec 2014
brill
Circa 1994 Dec 2014
Airy, airy
Light,
Lightest.
Alone,
Alonest,
But not lonely.
I feel mischievous
And full of the courage to do something about it.
I am royal.
I am a laugh and a half.
I'm mental,
In the best of ways.
Ask me why I'm smiling.
And I'll tell you as my fingers graze against your flesh.
I'm invincible
In my little dress made of red lace.
Call me crazy cause I am.
But I won't let you rain
On my holiday.
martin  May 2013
Teenage L'icks
martin May 2013
We went to the woods for a picnic
That girl was such a nitwit
She promised a lot
But all I got
Was a peck on the cheek and a biscuit

Her parents went to Rhyll
To me that sounded brill
I went to her place
All prepared (just in case)
And fed the budgie some trill

I said I've fallen for ya
Let's cuddle in the corner
She said that's nice
But tonight I might
Practise my recorder

She said it's good to share
I said I'm with you there
Then I was led
To a single bed
And loaned a teddy bear

I did my best to please her
But she was just a teaser
My money spent
My patience went
So it was time to leave her
Simon Soane  May 2016
Monday
Simon Soane May 2016
Being a weekend binge drinker I don’t really like Mondays
my poor fragile mind is in a alcohol daze,
my limbs are slow and heavy, each movement is a trial
I feel like I’ve ran a marathon after swimming the length of The Nile,
I lop around all zombiefied my legs are full of lead
my eyes are groaning loudly, like an extra from The Walking Dead,
I’m on the verge of snoozing, I do that sleepy involuntary ****,
I pinch myself real hard “Si you have to stay awake in work!”.
So I take a trip to the disabled toilet and have a nap on the ceramic floor,
hoping I’ll feel much better after this tad of a tiny snore,
I rouse after ten minutes and decide to control this ***** ridden strife,
I must get a grip soon, I want a grasp on this Monday life,
a light bulb pings out of nowhere to brighten my maudlin mood,
this sweet recovery will be engendered by lots scrumptious of food,
so I indulge in a savoury overload and gorge on toast and crisps;
Discos, Hula Hoops, Quavers and defo tons of Frisps,
on my dinner I scoff a Mac Donalds and then a Greg’s sausage roll,
this hungry Homer gluttony helps to sustain my whole,
the calorific sustenance does it’s job and my hangover starts to diminish,
I gaze at the computer’s clock and think “hey it’s time I finished!”.
I ponder “ohh I can glide home knowing my day is done
and if it stays sweet and bright I can enjoy a few hours in the sun,
after that I can watch Breaking Bad and catch up with Coronation Street
while busting out the texts and having more to eat,
yeah I’m see what Walter White’s up to while being really greedy,
wait a ******* minute, tonight’s when I’ve said I’d help the needy!
*******, **** **** **** ****, that’s my evening of chilling down the spout,
rather than a hammock night in I’ve got to venture out
and feed a load of ungrateful gits who don’t even clear their plates
and ask me if I’m a cross dresser while sniggering with their mates,
rather then see if Jesse gets caught by Hank and how the story unfolds
I’ll have to scrub those scrubbers dishes pristine while wearing marigolds,
as oppose to nodding off reading with a Rustlers under my front room lamp
I’ll have to put a load of cutlery away after making a 20 sugar brew for a *****!"
So I decide the Wellspring is off tonight as I really can’t be assed going
I’ll just graft extra hard for *** next week and keep the drinks a flowing,
so I’m just about to pick my phone up and call in with a excuse that’s pretty lamey
but then I realise if I don’t go I won’t get to see Amy!
Suddenly there is a spring in my step, my motion feels on point
I shower very quickly and post drying roll a joint,
I have a zip in my posture as I sail and blaze down the road
all my thoughts of staying in they instantly erode,
I think “Amy is ace and topper, in her company all is fun
she’d make a day of gloom resplendent with the sun,
her chirping silly noises are always brill in the air
she turns my giggles to def com one, I laugh without a care,
I mean I know I'm hilarious, I can feel my own strengths in my head and tummy
but when I'm with Amy I'm even more funny!  
She makes it all sunny!
Cos we can berate that gormless Declan who eats with the speed of a cheetah
say he's troffing all the time, like a professional eater,
we can spray a bit of water, have a lot of chat
teleport through nonsense with the free degree of claptrap,
chill around the washer where all the cool kids hang
kicking back like Gs, knowing all the slang,
flick a fleck of sausage then have a speaking swirl
flex the talking muscles with sweet balletic twirl.
I mean she's not perfect, she could improve her lot
she's pretty immodest, always going on about how she's so hot,
alright supermodel, calm down, yeah, okay you were blessed with good looks
be you know being arrogant really ******* *****.
And she don't like the ***** cats, her brain must have a feline blur
how can she not warm to their whiskers and their contented little purrs,
her eyes sometimes don't always work and she is optically infirm
and she steals pies from the scrotes, she don't know to wait her turn,
she'd stab you in the back for a go at the counter, she's always trying to grab the lead,
and added to all that she can't even ******* read!
(I'm surprised you can read this actually.)
But i'll overlook these foibles, her flaws aren't yet that drastic
she has to merge some yang in there to be so yin fantastic!
Ahh, in this life where what was can no longer leave a reflection
it's always super to feel the natural flow of connection;
glowing with simplicity
our joyous synchronicity!"
So i approach the door of The Wellspring and feel sweet and glad
and think, "you know for a Monday you aint turned out too bad!".
Tad of context, Wellspring is a homeless shelter place I work at, obvs I don't really think they are all tramps, just fun for the lols of the poem!
Claire Waters Dec 2016
Lost in flesh
Inside your head You see him again in the Past dripping with so much blood it escaped into the pond from rivers along the length of his limbs
I don’t know his face, still, barely
I remember him swaying like a lightening rod and begging for help, not even that
Gurgling the word, and it took me a second to register how wide open his head was
I didn’t gag, but I didn’t breathe either
I dropped my keys and yelled too
A precious reminder of the tides beneath the foam
There seems to be no desire left
It collapses in on itself like the old barns succumbing to blustery wind out in the yard
Where the wild things grow
A heart made of the soft river stones that shine but shed their soft talcum brill
A young woman is perched on a bridge
Somewhere else but it is happening
Right now
Some kid is waiting for the right stop
Thinking his body is so heavy
And counting the steps to his front door
Outside my honda some kids are loud like a muffled faucet dripping laughter from the other room
Evening feels further away than it used to feel
Everyone feels further away too
I would try to tell you a story now but
Everything seems less important when the mist returns in the morning in this place
It’s a fatal question to dance around in circles of frustration
Watching some others offer it’s existence up for capital
When you can’t pin it down with an arrow or settle it’s parameters with measurements
Or wrestle it down like a bucking bull and a faithless matador doing his duty to his country
It can’t be as simple as the ways in which we quantify
Even the process of writing has become dispassionate, there seems to be no use in what the meaning is
The question looks quaint at arms length
The boy is home in bed, thinking about buying beer tomorrow and if he was hit by a car or someone shot him how long does it take to bleed out and just
So yes, I would try to tell you a story to explain myself better but, I can’t
I’d tell you a story but the truth is I’m confused by how much there is to tell
The intricacies of the truth, the aspersions of summing up the contents after breaking them down
The way nothing always happens for A Reason
The way most things always happen for some type of reason but not A Reason
The way I feel today
The way a fly poops on what it lands but you can’t see that
The way these things are never sold, nor told, nor need to be believed to be true.
You know the way it goes, do we die in our own **** or do we **** before we die
and did the chicken even know the road was a road when it was crossing to the other side?
The man is 65. I remember this because a girl and a guy had seen the man and I
and he told her this. He tried to laugh and
he choked on his own blood. He had wrapped his face in a brown tshirt
And placed his hat over the wound
Covered by that. He looked like Freddy from that movie Freddie vs Jason
but somehow mostly formidable in that he
was soaked in the red, drying in the sun
like glistening crusting paint, chipping away
I don’t pray very much but I did today after the ambulance came, I prayed all Monday
I thought about who that man was
A young woman is perched on a bridge Somewhere else but it is happening right now
And she is suddenly having it, she’s having the truth and she doesn’t say anything but she
Puts her hands in her pockets and doesn’t move
And then does, and presses a cigarette to her mouth and doesn’t move
And the filter gets soggy and
She sits there and decides to light it
And finally she moves away from the murky dark water and walks to her car
The mouth of the maw glistening against moonlight slated shadows
The seeker holds her heart and picks up the stones as she goes, doesn’t look back
Uncertainty

I can't remember the last time we talked,
last conversation i stood and you walked,
away from my heart,
to my chest a poison dart,
lock all the doors and trash the key,
and then that there is the last of me,

toxic dagger in the night,
you'll never see the light,
the dawn of day,
is just so far away,
from the nightmare holding you,
dragging you through,
can't you hear the knell,
****, you're going down to hell,

to stitch a shattered heart,
you can't even start,
inevitable outcome,
ruined and outrun,
on route death-row,
innocence won't show,
Azure painted sky,
its about time you die,
Scarlett dyed vicinity,
in ruin for infinity,
pain from a lash,
atmosphere full of Ash,

come read this lament,
think of my heart's false content,
struck by a soul,
mindset control,
reluctant demise,
successful surprise,
undead reign,
excessive blood stain,
a brill decease.
crimson flow release,
depart my love,
holly and white dove,
an unhealthy strife,
covert peace in my life.
Simon Soane Apr 2017
I'm a schizophrenic hypocrite,
thankfully not in a medical way
I don't have to pop pills everyday
to keep an essence of danger under control
and to stop my head doing backward flips and forward rolls
to curtail bad thoughts and contain OCD
wake up and think "what's happening to me?"
but sometimes i'm full of mazy bomb blasts
and crazy contrasts…
Now I love animals and their brilliant ways
they brighten the world and add happy to my days,
I could be walking to work in that new spring sun
and spy a cat on a wall and think “ohh, how fun”,
I’ll bound over with a skip and say “hey you, how’s it going,
although it’s bright today your purr has really got things glowing!”
Or in a Saturday beer garden when I’m kicking back with relax
a dog strolls in his owner and my attention is instantly rapt,
I’ll exclaim “ohh, is your pooch friendly, please may I give him a pet?”
If the guy answers in the affirmative I’ll proclaim “hey big doggy I’m so glad we’ve met,
you’re a lovely doggy aren’t you, look at your slobbering face
and the way you wag your tail I think it’s pretty ace!”.
Or I may be having a saunter round the park taking in some stupendous views
and see a stretch of water and decide to have a peruse,
as I get closer I think “oh I can’t believe my luck
look at that raft of lots of lovely ducks!”.
So I nip to the shop round the corner and buy a loaf of bread
and think “ohh you top paddling guys you’re gonna get real fed!”!
So I chuck plentiful crumbs in the water making sure they all get their fill
of some luscious Warburtons down their chomping bill.
I do love other creatures though not just the ones who go meow, woof and quack,
even the tiny ones who fur and feathers they lack;
I could watch a ladybird for ten minutes and be allured by it’s spots
and then be wary around those minuscule red mites that look like little dots,
ensuring that I always check before I sit on a summer wall
so my plonking down doesn’t squash them all.
Or if I’m walking home down a dark passage way on a rainy night
i’ll get my phone out and use it’s shiny light
to see if there are any snails that have come out from under a bush
so I can daintily skip around them and avoid that awful shell crush.
As for spiders and moths in the house I never **** them I always put them out
And then do a Usain Bolt stance in the living room with a “I love you insects” pout.
However one Thursday when I was off work on a day in lieu
and thought “ahh I’ll venture out as the sky is blue,
I can have a wander with some music and then go see Mum and Dad
but before I do all that there is a shower to be had.”
I stroll into the bathroom anticipating a lovely clean
but am greeted by a sight that is less than serene,
walking on the ceramics are about 14 microscopic flies,
I had to squint to view them, they were almost invisible to the naked eye.
I mused “hmm, how am I gonna solve this they are too flimsy to catch and put outside,
and what receptacle could I place them in to take on freedom’s ride?”
As I’m deciding what to do I see more of them coming out of a hole in the tile
and I say “look guys me you’re beginning to rile”,
then I glance some Dettol wipes lying next to my tooth brush
and in a instance obliterate the flies with a sweeping rush,
I chuck the death tissue in the bin and feel a swell of guilt,
“I thought of more understanding stuff I was surely built,
I got rid of them without compunction because they were disrupting my aqua blast
I hope this killing streak doesn’t last.”
Post shower I’m feeling better and believe my murderous bent has gone away far
pop my ear phones in, crank up the volume and saunter round to see Ma and Pa,
but it won’t just be Mum and Dad I’ll be pleased to see when my feet land on their welcome mat,
it will also be lovely Poppet the cat!
I like Poppet loads, she’s my whiskered friend
all my love to her I always send,
her wild meowing tones are one of my favourite sounds
it’s awesomely brill to have her around,
sometimes when I’m drunk her name slips off my tongue,
that’s how I know we defiantly belong,
I can be gleefully inebriated at a festival
and I’ll just say “Poppet!” and feel more happy full,
Pops Popsicle Poppet, I adore your tabby chest,
ahh Poppet, you’re simply the best!
I get to my parent’s house, call her and she comes running with that bounding feline whizz,
and I exclaim with joy, “ahh, there she is!”,
I give her lots of petting and start to feel all catty rich
but then I notice she seems to have a itch,
I say to my Mum, “is Poppet okay, she looks like she’s having too much of a scratch?”
she replies,  “yeah but I think she has fleas that are more than beginning to hatch”,
she continues, “I’ve got some flea treatment though so those little vamps we can quickly dismiss”,
I reply, “nar, it’s okay Mum, I’ll handle this.”
I say to the fleas, “come here guys” and take them and Poppet to one side,
and remark “look today I’ve already committed insecticide
and I really don’t want to do it again but you’re putting Poppet the cat in duress
and she seems distracted rather than purring in my soft strokey caress,
and I don’t want to deliver a ****** bomb of flea killing pollution,
it’s much better to find an amicable solution,
so if you could just jump off her now and end your inhibiting lease
I promise I won’t hover you up I’ll just let you go in peace.”
I give them a few minutes to mull it over but then see Poppet frantically biting her thigh,
“now that is ****** it, no more Mr Nice Guy!
right you little Dracula *****, you’re about to find out what really *****,
it’s being on the receiving end of my “you’re perturbing Poppet” wrath,
you’re about to take a real long Frontline bath!”
Without remorse I dowse them up and that is that,
“bye bye you tiny ******* Vlad The Impaler *****!”  
See I love all the animals, I really have to say,
just don’t cross me on a Thursday,
oh, and I eat meat way more than a bit,
i’m a schizophrenic hypocrite.

— The End —