it's not that i'm gagging for them, but then again i'm suspicious as to why i don't receive them... where are all the malicious comments, the insidious emails, where are they? i'd love to receive a pigs head thrown at my front door, i'd love becoming an adrenaline junk comment feed filled by load of ******* dressed comments... i mean, my email account is quieter than a graveyard, i keep probing the hornets' nest, and all of them seem stoner lazy... i keep probing and probing and probing... and all i get is an ox's **** back.
maybe i'm just a loveable alcoholic,
that has enough time on his hands
to describe what time is,
given that space has been occupied
by a parabola of einstein,
the the several other impossibilities
of the generalised inquest
as to what is, possible, and as to what is,
impossible.
i'd be the richest men alive had
i seen the rings of saturn, eye to eye,
but i won't: hence the maggoty stench
of reality overshadowing me...
or that cat's meow loosened inside
my head -
off the rails -
i tell ye,
don't buy a *maine **** cat,
they're just like bloodhounds -
easily depressed, and often too clingy -
you'll end up like me,
with a feline pavarotti in your head,
i've never hear so many distinctions
of meow in a thousand lifetimes -
quarus, the bane of my life,
if you can call it life with him included;
easier listening to a hundred dogs bark than
his meow distinctions,
a million mice and one piece of
buttered cheese: can we please, please,
please make this guillotine work?!
i don't want mice without broken
necks... this cat's ******* annoying!
it's like a baby, cries for nine months
suddenly stops, and starts to suckle at the teet...
it's a bloodhound incarnate as feline...
i don't have the heart to tell the ******
to stop his moaning meows...
but the ginger isn't exactly
a charlie's angel worth of revelation!
ugh... grrr...
next thing you know i'm pampering
kenyan toddlers on the sly...
had this one night stand though,
with this african bubbly...
what did i end up with,
a child male ******* his thumb,
coming to sleep on my hairy chest...
stroking his afro while trying to
imagine tight-knit spaghetti....
and it really felt like: are you hers,
or are you mine?
did i mentioned she preferred
to fake a ****** with her thighs?
oh, sure are ****,
the senegal boys were buddying up busy
with the games console,
i was a surrogate white boy with
a ****** reclining on my chest
falling asleep...
kissing him goodnight,
and, words aside - i like the racial slur
glue, apologies, i'm not a ****** in
this respect, i just love to avoid
choco, and i much respect
the dr. dre - ******, please,
its either dr. dre or it's
you try **** a kenyan lass,
and she throws a baby boy at you?!
******, just say it:
i'm an usher fan...
you ever had a one-night-stand
when you get to lullaby a black baby
on your hairy white chest?
thought so.
**** as a six pack of **** nuggets...
and i really was up for a steak &
kidney pie...
i didn't sign up for this sort of love,
but given there was the question
of love on the roulette -
"homie" had a white father for a night...
i guess that was me
measuring ****...
and the access of promiscuity -
like **** did that work...
sooner me it, and the elephant
in the room,
than the bling readied easy ride of ****.
i still can't forget that little ******,
his oily twirly curls of sub-sahara -
the buttery feel of his skin against mine -
how easily he fell asleep in my hands -
how he didn't discriminate me not being
his daddy...
his mama who faked her thighs don't
being ****, who i said to: no...
you just pulled your children from the bed
onto the floor...
and there the poor ****** stood,
at 2.am., ******* at his ******-dummy -
naked, me naked, her queenship naked
next to me, her naked daughter on
the floor by the bed like a respecting dog...
hey! reality!
so i took the scruff into my arms...
laid him on my chest...
and he took off into the cloth of night...
no, ******, no no no!
i'll say these words like you rap them,
you don't own a nuance in a thousand miles
of the "proper" usage -
i have the abiding jest to say them,
what this one-night stand experience,
plus, the pakis in england demanded i be
deemed: vermin...
i'm pretty sure they're behind that
vocab selection...
sure thing ****...
i'll be king vermin...
wanna see my chew?
grit nibbling, teeth that scold beyond
the bone -
teeth that chatter and gnash,
treating a piece of bone like a corncob -
until they start suckling on the marrow:
the moment when
rats turn into leeches,
is the moment when rat teeth gnash
past the bone and reach the marrow:
suckle that ****'s worth
of freckled blood-clots:
vermin does, what vermin is said to be.
as i always state:
learn how to read, or at least to: reread...
hard to spot the tuxedo language,
when everyone on the most inglorious stretch
of pavement is wearing hardly a tux,
but a straitjacket.
oh sure, the sharks were always asking
for the gentle touch,
the lions were always asking for the gentle
touch...
for some reason, man was always
asking for a touch of sanity.
