Dig deep in the sand with a cupped shovel-hand
Until you come across a healthy source of water.

Scoop up what you see and let loose the soggy contents,
Let them dribble through a careful filter fist.

Slowly drip foundations and upon them start your fortress
Using steady streams of trickled dribs and drabs.

Stalagmites in hyperspeed form walls and lookout towers
With the damp bricks one by one constructing peaks.

Spectators of all sizes will collect and cast their gazes
But you must keep up the focused droplet swell.

Maiden battles can't be won and so the masterpiece will crumble
To the tide that forces motes to overflow.

Waves crash and reek their havoc on the castle that you managed
To build with will and manky dripping palms.

The sand on which it once stood will be flattened out and polished
To make way for a palace twice as grand.

The pale horse leaves a deathly swathe

as through our ranks he ramps and raves.

No time to bury the rotting reminders

of manky motionless mounds of men

Puffed with disease and certain to find us

Widespread, worrying, wondering when....

There always seems to be plenty ladies of the night
Some of them are black girls and some of them are white
A few of them will kiss you a few of them may bite
There are ones that **** you those ones are quite alright
All of them will ******* their ***** are not that tight
A lot are quite good looking but lots look ******* *****

All have well used *****'s but that's just what you'd expect
But it doesn't really matter as long as your *****
You may be into **** their ***** you don't neglect
A request to use a rubber their wishes you respect.
Enough cash is needed both holes you can inject
But the price for extra services is higher I suspect

You have to be quite wary there are some well used pro's.
They've been around for years, ***** worn from lots of goes
Their naked body's have been seen in lots of pervy shows.
Just how many ***** they've ******, no one really knows.
So many fellows gobbled off ***** ****** and ***** blows
Some are old and past it but their just ***** hoes

There was one such lady back in my home town.
Her salty ****** was waiting beneath her smelly gown
The guys that she's been ******* had a disconcerting frown
This is why that ugly ***** was always ****** facedown.
Deep inside her crusty **** their ***** would surely drown.
Especially now her **** juices have turned to a dark brown

Why **** a **** that's manky with such a smelly pong.
It isn't good if that filthy stench smells so ****** strong
Stupid fellows ****** that hole using their desperate ****
But Surely ******* that ugly hag must have been so wrong.
I guess it was a testament for her being a ***** so long
And that's why all the locals are singing her this song

And...
Ten-Bob-Annie
Had a manky *****
But still the wankers paid
She was an ugly ***,
Should have just said no
So desperate to get laid.
She didn't charge much,
For her smelly crotch.
It was definitely decayed.
Never used a rubber,
Just a ***** scrubber.
If your willing to downgrade.
She lived down Abbey road
Smells like a commode
A wonder anybody stayed.
Just so that you know,
Her name is Audrey stowe
And she didn't make the grade

When her grandchildren went to school they got teased and ragged.
Because of all the ***** men that Audrey ****** and shagged.
***** got stuck with stickiness some got caught and snagged
That ***** smelly **** of hers should be bound and gagged.
The usage needs preventing it could be sealed and bagged
OR her disgusting antics monitored and electronically tagged

Ten-Bob-Annie was painted on the wall above of Audrey's door
I don't know why she got so upset because it attracted more.
Stupid guys just wanting *** at least there where three or four
Take my advice and steer clear of that worn out ******* *****.
Her daughter Debbie was the same they'll make your shaft so sore
Those two infested well used ***** are nothing to adore

Now Audrey's daughter Debbie she was just as bad.
She ****** just as many men as her ***** mother had.
They wasn't really bothered they would have any lad
Just a couple of fat slags they'd even **** your dad.
But they never got there hands on me of that I was so glad
If I had even gone there well I would have been quite mad

Guys like us don't get breaks
with our unshaven faces and manky hair and eyeliner.
Our work-torn jeans colorful tattoos and pierced lips a warning,
Aposematism in human form.
Guys like us don't get breaks
We claw and drag our way not to the top,
but to the surface.
Ain't got no daddy's money.
Ain't got no daddy, or wish we didn't
cause he comes home
talking 'bout how he didn't raise no ******.
(He didn't raise nobody).
Guys like us don't get breaks.
Nothing but mildewy rooms
McDonalds for dinner washed
down with cheap *****
Another Thank you for applying but...
Rent due the 24th.
alone at night again.
Guys like us don't get breaks.

Yer heads just a bed for others opinions to lay in;
growing bigger, badder and bolder there,
until they’re covered in sores, manky and reeking.
Yer heads just a place for others thoughts to leek in.
But dinnae get disheartened by their chat.
Remember its your head thats dain aw that.
They never said a word, its yer head that ye heard.

On another long *** haul flight,
just thinking about my life.
Or one of them at least,
don't wanna confuse this write.
I get to my late night hotel
and throw my bags on the bed.
So that i can curl up on the floor
and try to sleep once more.

Waking at 3, take to my phone
to stream free **** till i ***.
Throw those same bags on the floor
and somehow sleep on till morn.
Rising in the bed next to the door
unruly, unkempt and disheveled.
Oh New Orleans, how i expected
a promise of so much more.

And back in dear Dublin
at St. Michans' protestant church.
Some **** just gone stole the head
of an ancient Knights Templar.
Mummified by the limestone
or from some methane gas there.
800 years he's been laid to rest,
greeting tourists and locals alike.
2019, taken on a last crusade
by some thieving dublinian scobe.
Sent floating down the manky Liffey
a river that stinks like a vikings robe.
Dublins' archbishop Michael Jackson
tells the papers that he's shocked.
Thats' right, Michael ******* Jackson
how weird and steaming is that.

This story i heard from a
blind boy with a bag on his head.
And he said he wanted to cry
for he so often visited that crypt.
Well i guess i've never been
and had never really planned.
But christ it still makes me sad
another switch I guess just tripped.

But hey, whats it got to do with you
and whats it all got to do with me.
Well me, i'm back on this hotel floor
trying to keep my own head.
And as for you, well you go right on
cry me a river to float me on dreams.
For me, for you and for above all,
that Templar Knight of New Orleans.

drinking isn't funny all the time, you become too *****, have men forgotten that alcohol is an aphrodisiac? me, drunk, brothel? ***** every time.

you can stroll down a street,
walk past an english youngling -
evidently sexually conscious
given the attire...
   never mind the age:
she's english, and you walk past
her, and she starts to quicken her
step...
   she looks at least agitated
but at the same time more
apprehensive than agitated...
you walk past a father and two
boys, and the boys start
looking at you with a certain
type of curiosity...
you walk into a supermarket,
take four czech beers -
  (cheque? check, chequers?
horvat - croat) -
and at the counter: a pretty
muslim girl, pale olive,
      wearing a hijab... and:
bam! the immediate perceptional
difference: she considers you
a testosterone battery,
   she's curious, like a deer,
  she attempts to hide a smile...
what was it?
                              a beard...
i watched a video about beards
being misogynistic,
about lumber-******...
       there actually is a phobia:
pogonophobia...
               that's for women...
but there's also
   *trichopathophobia
   (fear of long hair on men)
that's expressed by men, contra men...
then there's pixiephilia:
   men who love women with
short hair...
      i ****** well know, i fall
into the pixiephilic category...
i had long hair,
  she had manky dreads,
she cut them off,
          bam! pixiephilia was born;
darling... cut it short while
you're young...
   every see an old woman with
long hair?
               anyway...
god, i love burping while drinking
beer...
     common practice
              among the swabians:
and good manners too!

A street worn chancer
wide-boy hoodlum called Bobby
says he's a youth Organizer of the Local socialist
a ****, who made the next door Joan pregnant at fifteen
the guttersnipe actually came knocking on our door
listen he says,'I don't care what you say, I want your car'
I looked at him like he was mad, and indeed he was mad
I am not street, I don't start effing and blinding to begin with
I just sized up the dross, I was ready to take him down, but no
You what? I inquired incredulously with a withering look
I suppose he knew immediately I was not messing
Ok, he stuttered..give me some money, I know you have money
The look on my face answered him before I had even started
'If I have money, I worked hard for it, I wasn't drinking and
drugging it away, you'd be better to do the same....please ****
off my door, before I call the Police'.
He backed off muttering ' we are going to do you'
I slammed the door shot
Inside the Mrs asked, who was that
You know that waster, the Joan juvenile boyfriend from next door
you mean that manky haired ***** one that hangs around the landing
smoking ****!
Yeah, that one, he said he wanted our car
He wanted our car, she repeated equally incredulously
He made threats as I sent him packing, I continued
Lets call the Police, the Mrs said
Oh, he just a nuisance, I replied, they've got enough trouble
LOOKING BACK NOW, I SHOULD HAVE CALLED THE POLICE
for Bobby and his Criminal gangs had only just started!
Hell was to come....