There once was a man
That thought his member was grand
He called it the best in all of the land

He went from woman to woman
He said he was just checking their fluid

If your thinking he's a stud you couldn't be wronger
He's what my my grandpa would call a whoremonger

There once was a man
That thought his member was grand
He called it the best in all of the land

He went from woman to woman
He said he was just checking their fluid

If your thinking he's a stud you couldn't be wronger
He's what my my grandpa would call a whoremonger

1 Be ye therefore followers of God, as dear children;
2 And walk in love, as Christ also hath loved us and hath given Himself for us an offering and a sacrifice to God for a sweet smelling savour.
3 But fornication and all uncleanness, or covetousness, let it not be once named among you, as becometh saints.
4 Neither filthiness nor foolish talking nor jesting, which are not convenient, but rather giving of thanks.
5 For this ye know, that no whoremonger, nor unclean person, nor covetous man, who is an idolater, hath any inheritance in the kingdom of Christ and of God.
6 Let no man deceive you with vain words; for because of these things cometh the wrath of God upon the children of disobedience.
7 Be not ye therefore partakers with them.
8 For ye were sometimes darkness, but now are ye light in the Lord; walk as children of light;
9 For the fruit of the Spirit is in all goodness and righteousness and truth;
10 Proving what is acceptable unto the Lord,
11 And have no fellowship with the unfruitful works of darkness, but rather reprove them.

What a word..it flashes me back. A cultural staple.
  Granny used Rampussing.

When using Rampussing.
Whoremonger.
Cocksman.

Cats late night on high fences and dark places  catterwaling and bawling

Women perspire.

Men sweat.

Animals feel the heat.

The Misogynist
I wish I could remember the first day when
opening my eyes saw the world for the first time
****** sheets a sweaty mother grinning nurses look
at the size of his little ****, the child screamed
in horror and could see the rain and the dark sky he never
told me about that I had to re-live his revulsion
he was a child in his crib that didn't scream much observing
the foul world and his mother making love  
the bilious smell of love they thought the child was pure
and knew nothing of the lust of the *****
these early experiences he could not remember made me into
a whoremonger forever ******* anything in skirts
only to experience the loneliness of all animals after coitus  
only old age saved him from this ritual  disgrace
In the rocking- chair he sits and the **** is asleep this slack
thing he uses when *******

“SCREAMING MIME”

I should speak out when they abuse
This pasty-faced artist who decided to choose
Being trapped in silence with make up queer
I may not speak, but I can hear.

The taunts, the insults, and the hate
Towards street performers who refuse the bait
Of ridiculed anger through ****** gestures
Believing performance is a continuing semester

Of learning to grow within painted smile
Ignore the *******, concentrate on the child.
Who laughs with joy or open-mouthed wonder
Yet tosses no coins as my stomach thunders

Breaking the silence, begging for bread
My intestinal rumblings plead to be fed
A steady diet of human compassion
Through the clinking of coins in an appreciative reaction

To my ancient art and enduring hunger
Selling myself like a common whoremonger
Hoping to satisfy an insatiable crowd
In tight fitting Spandex, a seductive shroud

Ignoring lewd sneers at my exposed anatomy
That I've twisted and stretched in hopes it would flatter me
As my muscles contort and my body sings
A silent song that once entertained kings

The Misogynist
I wish I could remember the first day when
opening my eyes saw the world for the first time
****** sheets a sweaty mother grinning nurses look
at the size of his little ****, the child screamed
in horror and could see the rain and the dark sky he never
told me about that I had to re-live his revulsion
he was a child in his crib that didn't scream much observing
the foul world and his mother making love  
the bilious smell of love they thought the child was pure
and knew nothing of the lust of the *****
these early experiences he could not remember made me into
a whoremonger forever ******* anything in skirts
only to experience the loneliness of all animals after coitus  
only old age saved him from this ritual  disgrace
In the rocking- chair he sits and the **** is asleep this slack
the thing he uses when *******

******* bred and whoremonger still
I guess it is in the jeans
where I can say it is not my fault
****** blame my parents again
for my transgressions
my peccadillos
my weaknesses