They were like two peas in a pod Holding hands Exchanging tongues Being prissy and laughing at those Who long before saw their act Though those two queers, they don’t see at all They are midgets, and little, and erectly small With puffed up chests Stroking hens of the Cornish variety All of them dregs of a social society
Slum lords and criminal minds Under the sheets where no one sees Which one is giving the other the shaft **** and span they use after, oh so daft One erotically whispered to the other A Pain in the *** As they kissed over their biblical wine glass Seeking solace in each others arms Licking their wounds with grammars charm
Grown men, committing sin after sin Then blaming others for saying God wants you to begin Acting like men And not emancipated boys Stop diddling and twiddling Leave alone your petite toys
One day Jehovah will make clear Belittle others is worse than Queer Little queens swallowing their own vile While Ladies and Gentleman laugh At the ****** and the Clown In their lingerie and gown
God decried, let those two drown Even Lucifer laughed under his frown
In life it is said, what you reap you sow, this poem is an example of that adage. Tommy and Rubina dating? Yikes I need to toss my cookies.
Appreciation is showed for the marching band by how many horns are honked while cars drive by on the nearby road Or almost stepping on small baby Toads on the walk to your car In the middle of the night Sleep deprived It's okay, we wouldn't want it any other way
I know her intimately and not at all, Her fragrance infiltrates, chases me, A whiff off the tips of my fingers, The smell of her is hunger, It makes me wont to wolf and devour, Her flush on the flat of my tongue, Her angel whisper, Our quiet choir a pleasure, A harmony, A crescendo until we seed and mute. Between us, Our damp swap, A no man’s land, A moist design, The map of lust. The art of love is always, In its stains.