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Irma Cerrutti Mar 2010
Masticated Ectoplasm to Lance Corporal Tom
Masticated Ectoplasm to Lance Corporal Tom
Bumming your fat knobs and insert your helmet naked and unashamed

Masticated Ectoplasm to Lance Corporal Tom
Kicking off kick-off, cyborgs brought face to face
Tartan sunstroke and may Mumbo Jumbo's **** all lie among you

Nine, eleven, seven, thirteen, six, quinquereme, *******, *******, Tweedledum and Tweedledee, unsocial person, erectoffensive!
This is Masticated Ectoplasm to Lance Corporal Tom
You've really ****** the naval officer
And the hatchet faces want to know whose blouses you abuse
Now it's time to evacuate the ******* if you have a free hand

This is Lance Corporal Tom to Masticated Ectoplasm
I'm fancy dress dancing through the cat—flap
And I'm groping inside a swollen grotesque sailor
And the plums look gigantically unusual nowadays

Ergo from Land's End to John o' Groats am I piddling in a crumpet slammer
Telescopic hindward the lump
Uranus Arsenic is scatological
And there's sweet **** all I can have ****** ******* with

With the proviso that I'm Ichabod celibate centipede sextillion heads
I'm fondling vigorously paparazzo
And I think my sputnik knows which direction to ****
Tell my ballbreaker I ****** her vigorously for England, she bonks

Masticated Ectoplasm to Lance Corporal Tom
Your menstrual cycle's kaput, there's oojakapivvygizmo spleen
Can you smell me, Lance Corporal Tom?
Can you get to the bottom of me, Lance Corporal Tom?
Can you delve into me, Lance Corporal Tom?
Can you...

From Land's End to John o' Groats am I vibrating ring my crumpet criminal lunatic asylum
Telescopic hindward the groupie
Uranus Arsenic is scatological
And there's sweet **** all I can have ****** ******* with
Copyright © Irma Cerrutti 2009
We doh cur fer fancy werters
Bring us bangers in mashed terters
Gie us pork-pie caressed wi mustard
Rhubarb crumble topped wi custard
If yo’ve got a full day werkin
Black-pudding, eggs, beans and bercon
Un doh keep saying, ‘it’ll do ya no gud!’
We wont loads o’ graerty pud
If yo’me hungry jus the job
A great big hondfull of suetey gob
Grannies rice-puddin wi a gob o’ jam
Branston pickle on hunied-ham
Fish-un-chips wrapped in old newsperper
Ma’s bread puddin, nah that’s the cerper
Un if yo’ve got a babby-sitta
Wash it daen wi Bonks’s bitta
Black-Country fowk doh wont fancy starters
We wont bercon wie grey farters!
Ben Jones Apr 2013
A selection of limericks

There was a young lass from the Bronx
Whose ******* make fearful honks
She sounds like a car
When she puts on a bra
And the geese gather round when she bonks

-----------------

Father Alexander McMackett
Ran a ruthless religious racket
When taking collection
He'd offer protection
Salvation could cost you a packet  
-----------------

A carrot named Archibald Nation
Had feathers in high numeration
He was labelled as veg
By a grocer called Reg
With a dubious qualification

-----------------

A sculptor named Arnold Duprees 
Carved a ******* from parmesan cheese
He lamented his luck
When it melted and stuck
But he fired it out with a sneeze

-----------------

Knights in the armour of old
Have little to keep out the cold
For they dress as the Scots
In thier tenderest spots
Which encourages rust and then mould

-----------------

Oh ***** you make my knees quiver 
You chemical lethargy giver
You tickle my tongue
And pickle my brain
Then you jump up and down on my liver

-----------------

A Fella named Ricky De Gaul
Had seventeen ******* in all
They called him De Chesty
But with only one *****
It should have been Ricky De Ball
In tranquility we sit,
effervescent beverages in hand as
the descant moves into the mix.
So mellifluous...
So promiscuous in whom it touches...
Hoping to stupefy the audience with its
flawless and free life.
Until our enjoyment is shortened
by the loud clomping from
outside our autonomous dwelling...
Something outside bonks into the ground
before a silhouette breaches our safety
and our eternity is threatened with...
I wrote this poem as part of an excersise where we were given words that we had to use once in the poem and one word per line. These are the words we were given and the meanings that I used them for.

Autonomous - self governing
Descant - a melody played in accompaniment to the main melody
Tranquility - calm and undisturbed
Mellifluous - sweet sounding
Silhouette - a dark shadow or outline seen against a light background
Eternity - the endless period of life after death
Enjoyment - to get pleasure from (enjoy)
Clomping - making loud noises with your feet as you walk
Promiscuous - indiscriminant
Bonk - to collide with something
Effervescent - to give off small bubbles of gas
Stupefy - to stun with astonishment
Flawless - perfect
Mary Generic Dec 2014
I count the hours in diapers, wipes, formula and tiny prepackaged jars of mashed food.

I count the weeks in early morning babble, and bedtime stories. In cuddles.  

I count the months in doctors appointments and milestones; first teeth, rolling, talking, crawling, walking.  

I count my heart beats when they stop because of tumbles, rolls and kabonka bonks.

I count my smiles in discovery, first aided and unaided steps; when small things to me seem so big and new to him.

I count my tears in sleepless nights, upset tummies, and runny noses.

But if you ask me the time, or what day it is, I won't be able to tell you. Because I count time in moments. They go by so fast, and if I stop to blink or give you the time I will miss them.
Yggy May 2017
Dead, outdated, old, torn, faded
Shredded like cheese and fried like bacon
This particular cluster of mustered up star junk
Thought he hit rock bottom, then he sunk
What poor luck
Catch him on the breeze, going easy
Like a silent ****
Can't get a start *** he ****** on all the
Fire sparks
A bag of bones, regret, dusty reminiscings
Of things that weren't quite what they seemed
Hear him clearly...
For he is half deaf.
He would have more now
If he had but a fraction of what he left behind.
Look him in the eyes but he won't look back.
He's starting to see knives more like thumb tacks
Post your problem right next to the spine.

Maybe he could feel it but his brain is numb
Strung up and dumbed down,
A real ****** conundrum
...He has no hooks to spit
They tell him the bait choice is sick
But hardly any fish ever bit
So he sits in the sinking pit
Throwing rocks
Timing the bonks with the tick tocks.
Some say he'd really **** time if he had the chance
All the mind's romancin' reminds him of failed plans
He can't stand and see around,
When they told him to break a leg
He broke both just by casually leaning on em.

Seasons plot them uniform catastrophes;
Explosions of flowers weeds bugs trees, all so casually.
Compare that to this extremely sophisticated being
Flailing at every turn, constantly miscommunicating.
It's funny. A divine comedy. He begs the world "try me"
Then sits back n relaxes, crumbling the ivory tower
Just to build another one, then another, then
Cannibalize the next for another, self perpetuating blunder

— The End —