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kirk Nov 2018
Fat arses are so squeezable, big bums I rather like
So amplify your cellulite, and step up to my mic
Pins may shake and quiver, if I can score a strike
A Fat **** has more stability, to park my mountain bike

You may prefer a slender girl, with a bottom that is sleek
And fatter girls are not for you, or not what you would seek
Some little arses can be cute, but I want that extra cheek
I need some chunky piece of ****, to reach my ****** peak

I don't want a boney lass, who wears a leather mini
A larger girl I'd rather have, than a woman that is skinny
Imagine a great big ****, bulging out from a tight pinny
Bear arses are acceptable, just look at that Pooh Winnie

Size twenty dress would be fine, but better times by four
With Something to grab hold of, that would thrill me even more
Bigger bums and fatter thighs, that take up the whole floor
Squelching fat I would enjoy, I don't want a thin girl cure

Thin sticks maybe preferable, those girls shaped like a rake
Stupid ****** I don't want, or **** that could be fake
Fat ladies have more bounce, and they will never brake
I don't mind some extra skin, that's sweating like Swan Lake

Larger woman are more fun, they have a wetter gape
There's more to love per square inch, WOW what a body shape
Smother me with all you've got, a complete body ****
I wouldn't be like Steve McQueen, and try The Great Escape

I'm interested in BIG thrills, but I don't want silk or lace
It's certainly a worthwhile trip, if it's shoved in the right place
Delving into the unknown, well I'm not sure that's the case
You know exactly what you'll get, with fat arses in your face

A nice thin *** is okay, but sometimes they're quite drab
Even if your figure's slim, I'd want more **** to grab
I'd rather have a bit more fat, which includes dimples and flab
If your offering your fat ****, call me a mini cab

Excursions during twilight hours, to avoid the daylight sun
I prefer to be in stealth, I'll be on the midnight run
It doesn't matter how large you are, even if you weight a ton
Fat arses I will always grab, now wouldn't that be fun

There's nothing wrong with pertness, so this I will announce
But doesn't a nice fat ****, have extra pounds per ounce
With more to grab and more to squeeze, and definitely more bounce
Big cats scratching for more meat, will always make me pounce

If you are not good looking, and you look like a pig
I'll forgo your outward looks, as long as you are big
Bare your *** in front of me, and give me the gig
You can reach your Top Gear, with a helmet like the Stig

With a *** like the Grand Canyon, I wouldn't want to pass
Mammoth mountains of pure fun, as i lay in the grass
A women laid across the world, with a big fat ****
I'd try extreme obesity, if it's open wide and sparse

So take advantage of me, and let your **** end loose
I'm a man who likes em big, without being too obtuse
Use your fat for basting, and I'll give your **** a goose
We could do well with a good game, according to old Bruce

You may like slimmer ladies, but come on now you gents
A bums a *** after all, so stop sitting in the fence
If you would try a fatter ****, you wouldn't be so tense
Don't be a ******* plonker, you know that it makes sense

Thinner lovers may change their mind, and not think fat is vile
It's just a different point of view, depends on your own style
For that deeper piece of crack, I'd go that extra mile
I don't think a fatter ****, is bottom of the pile

Maybe you don't share my views, but there's something I can teach
A plumper *** would be great, that is within your reach
Succulent cheeks that you can grasp, your hands could have one each
Even James gave it a go, because he had a Giant peach

The perspective of a chunky ****, an amazing smile and crack
That's the exciting view you'll get, when your stood round the back
Its great to feel you way around, when everything's pitch black
You'll find it an experience, if you are right on track

A nice *** I wouldn't mind, so come on where's your *****
Bigger cheeks I can't resist, theres no need to get me drunk
I wonder if the girl next door, has some lovely feeling chunk
Enticement is my spice of life, cos I'm not a ******* monk

To like a larger lady, well It's not classed as a sin
Shallow men may only like, a girl that's really thin
Just because our clientele, are not shaped like a pin
Fatter girls have twice to give, it's like loving the same twin

Some fellows might think I'm blind, and need a pair of glasses
You can leave the lights on, cos I don't think fat is classless
Flash your **** at the back door, and you won't get any passes
Tables and sofa's can be used, to display your great fat arses
THE ALLAN FAMILY STORY, BRIAN WANTS TO BE AN ADULT, BUT HE;S TOO YOUNG



YOU SEE BRIAN ALLAN SINCE HE MOVED TO CANBERRA, HE HAS BEEN GETTING

VOICES IN HIS HEAD, OF HIS FAMILY AND OUTSIDERS, TREATING HIM LIKR A LITTLE

YOUNG DUDE, BUT BRIAN WAS FRUSTRATED, CAUSE, HE LIKED THE ADULTS BETTER

YOU SEE BRIAN WAS A COOL KID, BUT HIS VOICES WERE BOTHERING HIM, WHEN BRIAN

SAID I AM A MAN, HIS BROTHER WOULD SAY, SHUT UP, BABY, THEN ANOTHER VOICE SAYS

FROM AN OUTSIDER, SAYING, MEN BULLY, BRIAN, AND YOUR NO BULLY, BE LIKE USES WITH

THE YOUNG DUDES, AND BRIAN WAS UPSET, AND SAID, NO I AM AN ADULT, THERE IS NOTHING

WRONG WITH BEING AN ADULT, I WAS A COOL KID, YOU SEE, I WANTED TO BE ALLOWED TO RELAX

BUT BECAUSE MY BROTHER WAS ONLY 2 YEARS YOUNGER, HE FORCED ME TO JOIN HIM

WHICH I DIDN’T MIND, CAUSE AS I SAID, I WAS A COOL KID, YOU SEE WE PLAYED YARD CRICKET

AND FOOTBALL AND SPORTS SHOWS, AND BECAUSE OF ALL THIS, I WAS A REAL MAN, WHICH

UPSET MY PARENTS WAY OF LIFE, AND I DID THIS ALL THE WAY THROUGH MY CHILDHOOD

WITH OUTSIDERS CALLING OUT TO ME, SAYING, YOUR STILL A LITTLE YOUNG DUDE, AND

WHEN BRIAN SAID, I AM AN ADULT, THEY SAID, ADULT, ADULT, TRYING TO TAKE THE NOVELTY

OUT OF ME SAYING I AM AN ADULT, CAUSE I AM TOO WOOSEY TO BE LIKE LYLE, AND THIS

YOUNG DUDE SAID, **** MY ****, YOUR STILL A YOUNG DUDE BRIAN, BRIAN AT FIRST

SAID ******* I AM NOT GAY, HE SAID, NO YOUR STILL A YOUNG DUDE MATE, **** MY FUCKEN ****, ****

BRIAN SAID, WHY CAN’T YOU LEAVE ME BE TO BE A REAL MAN, THEN HE SAID, **** MY ****

YOU ARE TOO WOOSEY TO BE A MAN, AND BRIAN SAID, I DON’T WANT TO **** YOUR ****, ****

I AM NOT GAY, YA ****, HE GRABBED MY ARM AND PULLED ME INTO THE ROOM AND FORCED ME

TO **** HIS ****, THE FUCKEN **** HE WAS, AND BRIAN AS SOON AS HE LEFT, WAS FOLLOWING HIM

AND HE SAID, BRIAN ****** MY ****, YA SEE THAT **** IS NOT LIKE ME, AND THEN I WAS PLAYING

A TIE UP GAME, WHERE BRIAN ASKED THIS YOUNG DUDE TO TIE HIM UP, HOPING IT’LL TAKE THE

LITTLE YOUNG DUDE OUT OF THE STREET, BUT BRIAN BECAME WILD, AND HIS DAD, WELL HE AIN’T PERFECT

BUT STILL HIS PRIDE GOT IN THE WAY, I GOT CRANKY WITH DAD, CAUSE, HE LOOKED AS IF HE DIDN’T GIVE A ****

YOU SEE, I WAS TRYING TO GAIN RESPECT AND OPEN UP TO HIM, BUT I FOUND IT HARD, AND DAD HAD A LIFE

LIKE BEING A SCHOOL TEACHER WHERE HE HELPED A LOT OF KIDS, ACTUALLY DAD WAS THE REAL KIDS FRIEND

BUT, ME, I COULDN’T GET THROUGH TO DAD, SO I PUNCHED HIM AND THREATENED HIM WHEN HE LAUGHED AT ME

I SAID, SHUT UP, *******, YOU ARE NOT LIKE US, AND DAD WANTED TO HAVE HIS CHAIR, NOW DAD DID MAKE IT UP TO ME

BUT I WANTED FRIENDS, AND I FUCKEN TRIED TO BE CAREFUL, BUT I HATED THE YOUNG DUDE ASKING ME TO **** HIS ****

AND BRIAN HATED HIS DAD, HAVING A PROBLEM, WITH HIM BEING A KID, I WAS PLAYING BASKETBALL LIKE MY BROTHER

PLAYED TENNIS, AND DAD NEVER UNDERSTOOD, I LIKED THAT LIFE OF GOING OUT AND WALKING AROUND THE MALL

YA KNOW MUCKING AROUND BEING A FOOL ON SOME DAYS, BUT OTHER DAYS, MAINLY ON WEEKENDS I WENT TO THE MALL’

TO HAVE LUNCH AND HAD A BIT OF A MUCK AROUND AT *** BLACK PINNY ARCADE, AND THEN OVER TO THE BOWLING ALLEY

AND ON THE WAY HOME, I ENJOYED ALL THE KIDS PLAYING IN KEANE PLACE, YA KNOW YARD CRICKET, YA KNOW, BEH AND JOSH

AND THIS KID WHO LOOKED LIKE A CARBON COPY OF THE BIG YOUNG DUDES I LIKED AS A KID, BUT HE WAS A TROUBLE MAKER

AS HE ASKED ME TO TIE HIM UP, AND IF I DIDN’T KNOW BETTER, I WOULD HAVE TIED HIM UP, BUT I SAID NO, HOPING KIDS WOULD

STOP TREATING ME LIKE A PHEDAPHILE, AND THEN ANOTHER GAME OF CRICKET WITH BRENDAN AND CANDICE AND MY BROTHER

AND I LOOKED LIKE A REAL COOL KID, CRUISING AROUND, THEN AFTER A WHILE, THE VOICES STARTED, AND EVERY VOICE WENT

TO BED, LEAVING BRIAN THE COOL KID TO STAY UP ALL NIGHT, PLAYING COMPUTER GAMES, WATCHING TALK SHOWS, AND JUST AS

I WENT TO BED, MY MATES RANG ME UP, TO DRINK BEERS OUTSIDE THE SCHOOL, AS WELL AS JUMPING IN OUR FAMILY’S SWIMMING POOL

AND LEAVING SHARP OBJECTS, MAKING MY FATHER, NEVER TRUST ME EVER AGAIN, I WAS TRYING TO BE LIKE A MATE I LIKED, PAT, BACK THEN

BUT I LOOKED LIKE A DRUNKEN WOOSEY *****, CAUSE, I WAS TRYING TO BE THE COOL KID IN THE CLUB, TEASING THE NERDY YEAH MATE YEAH KID

WHO IS LIKE DAD’S NERDY BEING FRIENDS MOTTO, BUT, I WAS A FOOL, BUT I ENJOYED WALKING AROUND FROM PUB TO PUB, WITH THE

LINE IN MY HEAD, MEN DON’T DO THAT, THAT’S WHAT KIDS DO, I AM OFF TO THE PUB, AND WHEN I LOOKED SHY AT A FEW STAGES IN MY LIFE

IN CIVIC, I HEARD DADS VOICE SAYING, GO INTO A PUB BRIAN, RATHER THAN WALK AROUND CIVIC, AND I PARTIED ALL OVER THE CITY CLUB

AND THE PRIVATE BIN, SOMEONE TRIED TO ROUGH ME UP OUTSIDE THE CHARNWOOD INN, AT A CHOIRBOYS GIG THERE, BRIAN LOST EVERYTHING

THAT NIGHT, BUT THE TAXI DRIVER WAS HAPPY TO GIVE ME A FREE RIDE HOME, I AM NOT DOING THAT AGAIN, AND I VISIONED ME AND BRENDAN

WERE ******* TOGETHER, BETWEEN HOUSES, BUT I HATED DAD LOOKING LIKE HE DOESN’T CARE FOR MY WELL-BEING SO I HAD NUMEROUS FIGHTS

WITH HIM, BUT I DON’T BELIEVE IN VIOLENCE, AND DAD, ALWAYS DID THE WIMPY THING TO CALL THE POLICE IN RATHER THAN JUST RELAX AND LET ME YELL

DAD, HAS HIS PRIDE, TO PROTECT, I SAID THEN, **** YOUR FUCKEN PRIDE, I WILL NEVER BE A NERDY ADULT LIKE YOU DAD I SAID, AFTER A WHILE I UNDERSTOOD DAD

BUT I CAN’T UNDERSTAND, WHY IS IT SO IMPORTANT TO BE AN OLD JITTERY MAN, BACK THEN, BRIAN WAS JUST TEASING THE OLD JITTERY MAN IN DAD, DAD

LET HIS PRIDE GET THE BETTER OF HIM, DAD CARED, BUT, HE COULD’VE BEEN A LITTLE NICER BACK THEN, CAUSE I NEVER HELD A GUN TO HIS HEAD

AND I HATE BEING TREATED LIKE A FIGHTING COOL KID, BUT I WAS A COOL KID, WHO LOVES TO PARTY, I HAVE ALWAYS LIKED PARTIES, IN THE PAST

AND I WILL LOVE THEM THROUGH EVERY BUDDHIST LIFE OF MINE, DAD, REMEMBER FRANK SPENSER, BETTY, OH DEAR BETTY, WELL YOUR BETTY NOW DAD

AND NOW, I HAVE TO MAKE PEOPLE UNDERSTAND, I HATED FIGHTING DAD, I WAS HAVING PROBLEMS, LIKE I THOUGHT I WAS DEALING WITH, LIKE A COOL YOUNG DUDE DOES

I WANTED TO BE AN ADULT, DON’T WE ALL
suicidal twitch May 2014
Grey eyes looking so dull,
A ****** hole through your skull,
But it wasn't your fault,
That your life just came to a halt.

Dressed in an oversized pinny,
But in fact you were quite skinny,
They always called you fat,
It wasn't your fault you went splat.


Rope tied around your neck,
You're looking like such a wreck,
As you stepped off the wooden rack,
It wasn't your fault your neck went crack.


*A knife slid across your wrist,
They hardly knew you exist,
As it cuts through your vein,
Its not your fault you died in pain.
DieingEmbers Nov 2012
Park swings and polished slides
roundabouts and see-saw rides
country walks and babbling stream
honey pots and tins of cream
Kitchen sink or comfy seat
rain drops on an urban street
poetry and old love songs
wooden spoon and salad tongues
pinny or a pencil skirt
the way you look in my old shirt
the way I nag the way you chide
the nights we've spent sat side by side
beef stew and cake and sweet courgettes
high heeled shoes and sheer fish nets
silence in kisses laughter in eyes
and longing in those long goodbyes
shaun wilson Feb 2013
If, Mother washed her pinny
And father never swore,
If, Jimmy went to the loo
Instead of on the floor,
If, Our Sammy didn't turn up
In his underpants for tea,
If, Our granddad would keep his flies done up
Phoo, that's an awful sight to see,
If, Gran's teeth refused to fall out
When she dropped off to sleep,
If, My sister didn't steal my razor
This beard I wouldn't keep,
If, That copper had only looked the other way
Our Robbie wouldn't be spending time in jail today,
If, Our Lucy had bothered to learn the facts of life
Eight kids wouldn't be here now causing so much strife,
If, We all stopped smoking ****
And swilling beer till we were sick
This family would be smart, very elegant and slick

Heather P Wilson..........http://www.heatherpwilsonpoems.com/
Donall Dempsey Aug 2019
CRÚISCÍN...CÍSTÍN BAISE
(LITTLE JUG...LITTLE PALM CAKE*)

Auntie Mary’s
currant cake & blackberry jam

“Mmmmmmmm”

The jewels in the crown
of our forever summer

holiday

precious Corkonian objects
brought back to the lowly lowlands of the Curragh.

All the blackberries
that ever were

bursting with sunshine
& childhood

jumping into the jar for her
as if it were an honour.

They & I
transformed by her

love
& lovely laughter

cake baked
with smiles & chuckles

winks & singings.

Me on her knee...tiny
being kissed to bits.

Me being devoured
by an enormous hug

smothered in bosoms
the many many yellow flowers on her purple pinny.

Her blowing my curls out of the way
so that her smile could kiss me

more & more...er!

Me unable to comprehend anything
of her Cork accent.

Me saying “Yes..? ” & “No..? ”
in all the wrong hilarious places

(to my great embarrassment
& her great amusement)

her breath tickling my cheek
telling me she loved me...loved me...

& that I looked so good

she could “...ate ya! ”

Love as visible
as the flour

in the air
in our hair.
*******

(* Homely little terms! A little jug of milk and a little cake in the palm of your hand.)

A cístín baise is a little cake made on the side of the griddle especially for the child...eh...“helping” with the baking.

This was written for my Aunt Mary who passed away recently leaving me with nothing but the memory of her love...her all abiding love...that not even her death can diminish. I simply adored her.

The Cork accent is like fast fluent French cross pollinated with
sing- song Welsh...almost impossible to understand unless you are immersed in it for a couple of months! But of course she would also play with me and make up a whole lot of what they call in Cork...
“glig glag”...silly talk.

She was so easy to love.

A child’s delight!
The little Toy Shop in the High Street,
With its pebble glass windows and doors,
Was a magical place, with its curtains of lace
And delight on its shelves and its floors.
It had always enticed and enthralled me,
With its skaters that whirled on a rink,
With tops that would hum, and soldiers with drum,
And dolls with bright eyes that would blink.

It had stood near the kerb in the High Street
In a small seaside village in Wales,
And we would go there for a part of the year
Near the Inn that was selling Welsh ales.
And I would stare in through the window
Though the glass would distort what I’d see,
When the women would pass, all the chattering class
I would think they were talking to me.

It would sound like they sang to each other,
Not a word in my English was said,
And their voices would meld with that Toy Shop,
Till I thought, ‘What goes on in their head?’
But I left that Welsh village behind me
As I grew, with much laughter and tears,
It was later, a trip would remind me,
What I’d left in the past, all those years.

Then I found myself standing outside it,
That little Toy Shop from the past,
Where nothing had changed, just the stock rearranged
When I stared through that window at last.
I opened the door with the pebble glass
And I made my way slowly within,
And there stood a girl in a bonnet and blouse
And a pinny tucked all the way in.

Her hair was the colour of seaside sand
And her eyes were the blue of the sea,
I noticed that there was no ring on her hand
And that she stared intently at me.
I think we both knew in an instant then
That within a short year we’d be wed,
But though she still sings in her Welsh with a friend
I don’t know what goes on in her head.

David Lewis Paget
Donall Dempsey Aug 2022
CRÚISCÍN...CÍSTÍN BAISE
(LITTLE JUG...LITTLE PALM CAKE)

Auntie Mary’s
currant cake & blackberry jam

“Mmmmmmmm”

The jewels in the crown
of our forever summer

holiday

precious Corkonian objects
brought back to the lowly lowlands of the Curragh.

All the blackberries
that ever were

bursting with sunshine
& childhood

jumping into the jar for her
as if it were an honour.

They & I
transformed by her

love
& lovely laughter

cake baked
with smiles & chuckles

winks & singings.

Me on her knee...tiny
being kissed to bits.

Me being devoured
by an enormous hug

smothered in bosoms
the many many yellow flowers on her purple pinny.

Her blowing my curls out of the way
so that her smile could kiss me

more & more...er!

Me unable to comprehend anything
of her Cork accent.

Me saying “Yes..? ” & “No..? ”
in all the wrong hilarious places

(to my great embarrassment
& her great amusement)

her breath tickling my cheek
telling me she loved me...loved me...

& that I looked so good

she could “...ate ya! ”

Love as visible
as the flour

in the air
in our hair.

*

(
Homely little terms! A little jug of milk and a little cake in the palm of your hand.)

A cístín baise is a little cake made on the side of the griddle especially for the child...eh...“helping” with the baking.

This was written for my Aunt Mary who passed away leaving me with nothing but the memory of her love...her all abiding love...that not even her death can diminish. I simply adored her.

The Cork accent is like fast fluent French cross pollinated with
sing- song Welsh...almost impossible to understand unless you are immersed in it for a couple of months! But of course she would also play with me and make up a whole lot of what they call in Cork...
“glig glag”...silly talk.

She was so easy to love.
Donall Dempsey Jun 2023
CRÚISCÍN...CÍSTÍN BAISE
(LITTLE JUG...LITTLE PALM CAKE)    

Auntie Mary’s
currant cake & blackberry jam

“Mmmmmmmm”

The jewels in the crown
of our forever summer

holiday

precious Corkonian objects
brought back to the lowly lowlands of the Curragh.

All the blackberries
that ever were

bursting with sunshine
& childhood

Jumping into
the jar for her
as if it were
an honour.

They & I
transformed by her

love
& lovely laughter

cake baked
with smiles & chuckles

winks & singings.

Me on her knee...tiny
being kissed to bits

Me being devoured
by an enormous hug

smothered in bosoms
many many yellow flowers on her purple pinny.

Her blowing my curls
out of the way

so that her smile
could kiss me

more &
more...er!

Me unable to
comprehend anything

of her
Cork accent.

Me saying “Yes..? ”  &  “No..? ”
in all the wrong hilarious places

(to my great embarrassment
& her great amusement)    

her breath
tickling my cheek

telling me
she loved me
...loved me...

& that I looked
so good

she could
“...ate me! ”

*

(
Homely little terms! A little jug of milk and a little cake in the palm of your hand.)    

A cístín baise is a little cake made on the side of the griddle especially for the child...eh...“helping” with the baking.

This was written for my Aunt Mary who passed away recently leaving me with nothing but the memory of her love...her all abiding love...that not even her death can diminish. I simply adored her.

The Cork accent is like fast fluent French cross pollinated with sing- song Welsh...almost impossible to understand unless you are immersed in it for a couple of months! But of course she would also play with me and make up a whole lot of what they call in Cork... “glig glag”...silly talk.

She was so easy to love.

A child’s delight!
I'm Ivor Jan 2019
Sit down, relax, clear your mind, close your eyes
In dreams all those memories floating back
When dresses were frocks, no zips, button flies
Hornby train, wound up, trundling round a track

In scullery, Mum, pinny waist tied about
Thrusts smalls into sink, washboard at the ready
Scrubbing, cajoling 'til dirt driven out
Mum moves to wringer, turns handle. Steady

'When's dinner ready Mum?' a young voice calls
'It's cooking. First I'll hang out this lot'
She trips and liberty bodice falls
Mum picks it up. Is it *****? It's not

Next she opens the stove door, checks the food
Grabs a fork. Stabs it in. Recoils 'cos it's hot
'Toad in the hole', takes a taste, 'that's good'
The pair sit at the table, demolish the lot

'When dad gets home, back from the pit, he'll get bubble and squeak, and he'll eat every bit'
Donall Dempsey Aug 2020
CRÚISCÍN...CÍSTÍN BAISE
(LITTLE JUG...LITTLE PALM CAKE*)

Auntie Mary’s
currant cake & blackberry jam

“Mmmmmmmm”

The jewels in the crown
of our forever summer

holiday

precious Corkonian objects
brought back to the lowly lowlands of the Curragh.

All the blackberries
that ever were

bursting with sunshine
& childhood

jumping into the jar for her
as if it were an honour.

They & I
transformed by her

love
& lovely laughter

cake baked
with smiles & chuckles

winks & singings.

Me on her knee...tiny
being kissed to bits.

Me being devoured
by an enormous hug

smothered in bosoms
the many many yellow flowers on her purple pinny.

Her blowing my curls out of the way
so that her smile could kiss me

more & more...er!

Me unable to comprehend anything
of her Cork accent.

Me saying “Yes..? ” & “No..? ”
in all the wrong hilarious places

(to my great embarrassment
& her great amusement)

her breath tickling my cheek
telling me she loved me...loved me...

& that I looked so good

she could “...ate ya! ”

Love as visible
as the flour

in the air
in our hair.
*******

(* Homely little terms! A little jug of milk and a little cake in the palm of your hand.)

A cístín baise is a little cake made on the side of the griddle especially for the child...eh...“helping” with the baking.

This was written for my Aunt Mary who passed away recently leaving me with nothing but the memory of her love...her all abiding love...that not even her death can diminish. I simply adored her.

The Cork accent is like fast fluent French cross pollinated with
sing- song Welsh...almost impossible to understand unless you are immersed in it for a couple of months! But of course she would also play with me and make up a whole lot of what they call in Cork...
“glig glag”...silly talk.

She was so easy to love.

A child’s delight!

— The End —