"scrotum" poems
I was asked today "what
are you really into?"
while I was walking to film
class.
He had changed direction
with a flair of drama
and was walking along,
interrogating me.
I had to think.
I wondered how
I would answer his
question, were it posed
by someone I was interested in.
"I like the smell of hormones
colliding, omnipotent in their
decision to do so and in doing
it."
Could I say that?
"I like to feel like a hormone,"
or
"I like being a hormone."
Were these answers?
"I like patting my contracted
******* against the *****
majora of my partner."
"I like sewing," I might say.
That is, the idea
that if I push
and she opens
both testicles
and ******** may pop inside.
Like a **** needle pulling
a ***** thread
through a tight weave.
I laugh, imagining what the little man
would say, but
he doesn't know why.
"Stitch her up, Doctor!"
I'm
laughing.
He just says "you know, I'm into
chemistry, biology. Just tell me what
you're into."
I've been silent.
Is he still walking with me?
All I think to say is
"music" pointing to the earbuds
dangling over my chest, song
interrupted
by his pedantry.
He says "you've always liked music"
as if we've had this conversation before.
As if we know each other.
And it seems like he will follow me
to class.
And sit by me.
And talk about chemistry
and biology
while we discuss Singin' in the Rain.
Hormones, sewing and music.
Sep 21, 2012
Sep 21, 2012 at 12:50 AM UTC
Night is for the hours
Cowards,
Let a man of God speak or night
Will continue to burn flowers
It's been said napkins are the greatest currency
For it holds the food spittle of man
Like how ambulances sit waiting
To clean up after misfortunes
And make fortunes for the fortun-
Who Ate paragraphs of spider webs
And patted weaves like black men seating at the back of the limited luxurious Q46 bus nodding heads to the noise of Toyota cameras they couldn't afford in the land where they spend $300 million to part the seas for summer entertainment
While they only spent $40 on California cuteness and walked on water with 13 Jesus' and ate at the bottom of the sea with only three tokes from the plastic bag
Let a man of God speak or night
Will continue to burn flowers
For we graduated from 30 hot nights of mathematics
Only to find that the future will always be white and in the *******
May 2, 2013
May 2, 2013 at 7:44 PM UTC
Ta-ta Norma Drainpipe
Though I never shagged you at all
You ****** the rhythm to ******* yourself
While those around you ate crow
They schlepped out of the cleavage
And they ********** into your crumpet
They ******* you on the rowing machine
And they copulated you **** your three *****
And it seems to me you tasted your *****
Like a cigarette lighter in the diarrhoea
Never knowing who to stick it out to
When the ooze congeal from the top drawer
And I would have liked to have had carnal knowledge of you
But I was just a twit
Your cigarette lighter exploded spew out long before
Your whiff never blewout
Stiffness was sticky
The gristliest fat part you ever nibbled
Hollywood cobbled together a wizzofrog
And ******** was the corkage you greased
Even when you conked out
Oh the lubricator still molested you
All the skeletons had to jabber
Was that Marilyn was ***** flashy the starkers
Ta-ta Norma Drainpipe
from the virginal wombat in the twenty—second ghetto
Who smells you as meat as above par than scatological
Olé! than frank our Marilyn Monroe
Apr 1, 2010
Apr 1, 2010 at 4:17 PM UTC
because we fell in love with the law
and fell out of love with ourselves.
because the ***** of great minds
wear pineapple fatigues in their fathers’ *******
from Judas swallowing 9 bullets
to one day being a kid at heart
a symptom of some abnormality.
Ever get the feeling that you’ll die on a Tuesday?
Or one day wake up on their government bed
Screaming,
“you can blame the French Revolution
On silent reading!”
watching
as three teacups of *** plan war on the asphalt.
Apr 25, 2013
Apr 25, 2013 at 5:59 PM UTC
Lo and behold! The idiot has returned
The people ask why
I shrug and head turn
There he walks with his idiot stance
I watch him angrily
As he does his dumb prance
I remember his mind, so simple but true
We talked a lot in the past
I think his IQ is less than two
Great Scott! I cry for this hurts me so
He should be executed
Or have his ******* cut off for show
I am filled with anger every time he breathes
How did he live this long?
He should just stand in a busy street
Alas, there is nothing I can do
What a shame
I think he needs some counseling too
Good grief! I don't thinks his parents did well
Raising a half-wit delinquent
Oh isn't that just swell?
May this be a warning to you and to all
Be wary of idiots
For their brains are small
Dec 1, 2014
Dec 1, 2014 at 8:44 AM UTC
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
Mar 27, 2010
Mar 27, 2010 at 4:22 PM UTC
I took my ****** sister Marigold to the cinema,
she had asked specifically and eventually
(she doesn't speak a lot on account of her awful stammer
and amazing cleft palate which has won prizes)
so I knew that this was something she really wanted,
and I teased for her bad taste
when she told me that she wanted to see
"Ch-Ch-Ch-Ch-Ch-Ch-Ch-Ch-Ch-Charlie
and the Ch-Ch-Ch-Ch-Ch-Chocolate Factory".
It was a Saturday evening and the local picture house
was showing a re-run of the classic starring Gene Wilder
as the enigmatically stylish ***** Wonka,
and not that steaming great pictorial **** served up by Tim Burton
and I knew that town would be busy with oiks
so as a treat I dressed her up better than usual,
and even gave her a hosedown to get rid of the poopy pong.
She had stopped crying by the time the feature started
and I think the Ooompa Loompa costume grew on her
but that maybe the orange paint was a bit of a bad idea
as people had stared as it was Day-Glo and she stood out
like a bulldog's ******* but I stand by my decision
to dye her hair green, it had taken thought and planning;
it was meant to add to her excitement of the day,
so I meant well, even if I was ineffectual in the end.
I sat her on my lap in the picture house
but still paid for two seats but I do get one ticket half price
though because of her disabilities, so it wasn't all bad,
every cloud and all that, you know what I mean?
She tends to get a little down every now and then
but a £1 cinema ticket partly makes up for being born legless.
I knew from past experience that the cinema staff
prefer me to carry my stunted sis rather than wheeling her in
(I do recall that the time I taped her to her skateboard
proved somewhat a disaster - but really, the fat usher
had a torch and should have watched her step
or otherwise she wouldn't have bust her neck).
The Ooompa Loompa costume allowed Marigold
to amuse herself during the screening
(as there were no leggings to the costume).
She barely noticed when the fat little hero
got blown up on screen except to dribble "chocolate"
from her own little chocolate factory.
It was, all in all, quite an eventful outing
and one I might consider repeating but
probably in a different cinema next time,
mainly because we got banned for life
when the manager saw the condition of the seat.
Dec 16, 2014
Dec 16, 2014 at 8:06 AM UTC
He started feeling sorry for himself
long before he had seen his reflection
in shimmery linoleum tiles
that stretched into blind corners
before the snap of magnetic doors
woke melancholy macaroni people
strapped to rolling recliners
staring past Plexiglas TV's
He wore yesterday on his shirt
a step at a time...
one two, one two
felt breaths collectively stop
when he walked the halls...
one two, one two
like watching a one legged cricket
with your hand over your mouth
As cold as this place was
his head had been on fire
slammed into paper cups
filled with pastel colored
blues and pinks and
why pills
rattled at him like a baby
He fell face first into tomorrows
slobbered on wooden spoons
for vanilla ice cream
that he said tasted like Wednesday
He would get animated
when they ran out of Wednesday
and had many rattle cup nights
****** up through a syringe
hands and thumps
pressed him up against
heavy beds of oak bolted to the floor
gloves pulled his hair
when he smelled like yelling
into plastic mattresses
the same color as his *****
and no one wants him *******
while their eyes are closed
they want to see it
they want to say things like
"we'll talk about this later"
wrap his wrists in sheep's wool, in skin
from his ******* clasped by buckles, pulled
tight enough to close his eyes
He should have **** his pants
because chocolate doesn't have a taste
and neither did feeling sorry for himself
Sep 5, 2017
Sep 5, 2017 at 9:26 PM UTC
MY
gender has a big *** problem
we think with our *****
because our brains are in our *******
a nicely curved rear
a subtly protruding chest
imagination always adheres
and the hands do the rest
in our teens we’re rabbits
in our 20’s we’re wolves
by 30 we’re lions
and 40, owls
psychologically volatile
emotionally detached
physically competent
spiritually mismatched
understand, we’re arrogant ********
when we’re trying to save face
we are also capable of shame and regret
not every jack holds an ace
the exterior is tough
showing only what ruses the eyes
true that a man can bluff
but even crocodiles cry
the next time a **** tries to be one
fret not, you can still have fun
start by questioning his masculinity
and move on to “you have a tiny….”
yes that’s right,
go ahead spite ME.
May 4, 2014
May 4, 2014 at 5:49 PM UTC
You were a friend to the end but the urge to
do it finally closed myeyes, when I opened
them yourlife had ebbed away. Just silence
which cleansed the screams away.
I knew what I had to do, I had thetools ready
to do those unspeakable things to you, but never
worry your not here any more just a cadaver
that will soon be in pieces all over my floor.
I use my knife cut you from throat to your *******
whoops I just chopped of your meat and veg ****
it you don't need them any more. I play with
your ribs blood once warm now cold in my hands.
I think of a xylophone as I tap the knifes, dull noises
but they sound like musical notes, I smirk and laugh
a bit thinking of what you would think, as I play
musical notes down on your ribs and laugh some more.
I take your heart, it slips on to the floor, ok mate it
slipped from my hands, don't look like that you don't
need it anymore. I unravel your intestines as they unravel
over the floor, reminds me of spaghetti just needs meat *****
I have played enough, parts of you on me, I tasted part
of your liver like Hannibal lecture, I wish I could tell you
this but it tastes like horse.
I cut patches from your back, parchment a canvas of
skin so I draw, blood is my paint as I draw a skull,
then a dove you are free like the bird, no pain or
fear any more.
I feel no regret, you were a friend, but I use your
blood for hand print pictures on my wall as I
put it on my face on my chest. I write I am the killer
and now I am complete the circle of life is complete
as I get the knife and move it across then I paint
with my blood now across the walls.
I feel tired, but I am in a red sea of peace the room
once white now red is painted on the walls. I think
of what I have done, I cant help who I am no one could
have changed me I've done what I have done I'm at
peace now slumped on the floor.
May 27, 2014
May 27, 2014 at 5:22 PM UTC
Can you hear the strange noise in my heart? It makes vrruuuum, vrruuuum , vrruuuum every time you nap fondly on my pillow.
My heart is a spy, tic tac by the clock, carrying the breeze in the ball of a thumb, while 's quietly de flowering your dreams, layer by layer.
As if exists a collection of you in the ******* of mankind !
A small brute , the naughty child playing kalasnikov games and puzzlling the answers, the teenager tucking the drums, loud in all radios and smashing pumpkins on nirvanaheads spooning on MDMA flying .
The grown up's ready for work, bored as Peter Pan growing and sometimes funny when life's a ***** I just saw you drinking Madeira wine in public toilets, splashing *** on your toes while dreaming in rainbows of plastic.
I'm the frame of your dream. I'm here to take care of you while you're the squeeze of the petals and the whistle into the sound of the music.
Aug 12, 2013
Aug 12, 2013 at 7:56 AM UTC
a lick to the ******* up my *** glowin' a white
boy on Jim Beam and nitro screams hell yes! without
the benefit of an amplifier ebony and ivory together
brings the old south to her knees
she begs tell me 'fore you **** I say yes then oops
sorry black betty
take a grain of salt with that
for twenty bucks
on the Choctawahatchee banks so way below
the yellow rivers
Mason / Dixon look out jealous
with crosses burning ten miles further south
we are in limited territory, look out
for the man,
and swallow.
Dec 7, 2014
Dec 7, 2014 at 1:21 AM UTC
Emasculate Feud,
take his ******* and *****
so that you can travel the Jungian road
of unicorns, rainbows, and pixies
with no ******
Uncle Al Crowley
he died deranged like you-
-your very existence.
--Out of context--
like your quote of James Madison:
To fulfill your nihilist message
of hope without a ******
Freud who knew you all to well,
needs no ***** or *******
to think,
unlike you.
© S. Wesley Mcgranor
Feb 4, 2015
Feb 4, 2015 at 8:46 PM UTC
Light this up real quick lighter
****** hear Sage and they go insane
Who's to blame
Lonely soul just a name you can't detain this brain
Scandalous
Triple six what the **** is sane?
Seeing kittens without the ******* haze
Stroke game long and fast that's Usain
Can't hear you over your girls moans, what the **** you saying?
Super lubin
Leaving all you spoofs
Stupid ****** leave me drooling on the stool
So above to even fall for these hoes cause they come and go like my sadness that makes me feel like a ghost
Too legit to even roast on my foes
Thoughts of overdose
But I can't die cause I am the Goat
Dismiss the dope
Very cynical
Self heal without the clinical
I've been there
I wish it was that easy but it was too difficult
Get it from the back and yo girl in fear
Always teased for being weird
Changing routes like I'm swerving the steer
Off some xanax and all the *** isn't pleasing my emotion to disappear into what's really real
That's death and thats what make you ****** squeal
Ruthless, heart of steel
All I see is snakes when I walk the halls
Down to ball
Never for a ***** money and nothing else
Helps me dwell
Living well trapped in this mental cell
214 ***** where I learned to be myself
Live to excel and to focus on my wealth
Dumb ****** live to flaunt what they cant even cop
Your girl pop lock and drop on this 7inch ****
Dumb ****** get socked up in this world like if their throats clogged
****** sour lime
These acts so undefined
Yo girl kinda fine my girl a ******* dime
The truth I'll help you find
In time we'll be divine and our hearts won't divide
I swear these ******* flinch when I leave em cause the sticky getting to the *******
Up on a podium on some potent
I told myself I'd quit cause I'm just a student
Bish yo man got them moobies
Bish I'm on yo girls mental movies
Bish we smokin some doubies
Bish we making moves
Bish keep up with the groove
Bish yo girl got them cooties
Bish you acting pretty goofy
***** not into materialism but this **** is Gucci
Bish we trip on some lucy
Takes me a minute to make yo girl juicy
Nosey ****** boogie
Bish I'm genius but I'm still pretty gloomy
Apr 29, 2015
Apr 29, 2015 at 10:32 PM UTC
Will someone lose weight if they ate this
Toddler has stopped eating hot food
I heard that if a white guy sleeps with an asian women there is no risk of pregnancy
since our DNA is completely different
How do i know she didnt cheat on the pregnancy test
oh qod
I have a strange growth on my right *******
but what about the children
seeing a dr. is best bro
what to do about red rash ring around my ******
I am a new xbox owner
and i’d like to know more about this red ring of death
I grabbed my first **** when I was 14
it’s similar
is this too much for a active 14 year old
I get massive ingrown hairs and infections when shaving my *****
infection map
panda security
take a scissor and trim it like a normal non ******
then shove something up your rear
May 30, 2013
May 30, 2013 at 1:17 PM UTC
Inside, Your cancer's beating heart
My ******* shakes, dirt dust gone
I swipe the sand away. For every ounce of ****
Laughing out meaty red raw steaks and size zero thighs.
- For everythingsobad. You rattle my dream box with your sweet blue face and your gauges for neither being an idiot or being human. Too cute of you booboo. Captivity claws at you, you big bafoon, intolerant, shuffling your predicates back and forth during your 12am nonsensical ******** So long as it doesn't interfere with your curfew.
Like soggy altered-state popcorn. Your butter catches more flies than knives, the inauthentic gestures spattering over the rhythms and rolls of your fingertips is torture to watch. Kitchen countertop influenza. A tired dictionary of sad words, poor misfortunes, tired eyelids, silty and sandy crusty inside corners of the eyes
.rearing privilege
countertop crawlers. inaudible coos used by muses who can't keep their musings from tangling the long distance dial tone soaring through the ears like an Italian operatic melodrama. A horse, three brides, and a funeral. One woman, a sick child, blindness, blinding caused by toxins of the body stuck inside your gelatinous fishlike eyelids. Where's there an eye bib and a lance when you need one? A nifty electric toothbrush shank with extra reach and plaque protection. You're the kitchen sink they threw in, a budget meeting with a data analysis staph infection. A government where nobody wins. All the kids grow up with thin skin and an aorta with no ventricles in it. It's like the cynical prison system that we had to survive in our 8th grade basement dungeon. Thundering, curmudgeons drugging sluggishly, **** teen thugs. Preteen pornstars sluicing cash through their meaty canals, ******* the ******** and ******* the back bare in a messy afternoon of **** ******* Crusty infectious rumors made worse by brothers and moms, eating handfuls of Norco just to keep the family strong.
May 1, 2015
May 1, 2015 at 7:16 PM UTC
I notice the balloons
Hovering over the happy buffoons
I like the little purple one
All deflated and misshapen.
As they dance away the night
I keep my eye upon its plight
It hisses out more air
With each kiss that is mistaken.
By dawn it has become raisin.
Before I leave too soon
I rescue said balloon
Place it in my pocket
It is my little purple *******
Nov 26, 2012
Nov 26, 2012 at 7:08 AM UTC
each beep an hour
as i stare at this screen
the watch i forgot to deprogram tells me
what the numbers in my eyes scream
i feel my ears to listen to
the stillness between
passing cars
as the tires jolt in circles and travel
for beeps
and beeps
and it beeps
but what do we do now?
myself and who i thought i was--
unfinished projects began
to be forgotten
beep
beep-beep
beep
beep
beep
beep
beep
beep
beep
beep
beep
beep
because the tires jolt in circles
i become impervious to beeping
******* on the carpet
is my constant state of being
Nov 29, 2011
Nov 29, 2011 at 9:10 PM UTC
You made your way down
to the gas station
for your third day of work
in the heaviest fall of snow
since the year you were born
15 years before
and Mr. Fredericks was there
limping about the forecourt
around the pumps
with a big broom
brushing away snow
hey
he said
right you can try sweep
off the snow about the pumps
make it easy
for the customers
to get in and out
their cars and trucks
and handed you the broom
I’ll be upstairs
if you need me
just press the bell
under the desk
in the kiosk
at the front
and off he went
limping inside
snow still fell
there was a cold chill
about your limbs
your fingers ached
you pushed broom
shoved snow off
about the pumps
until all
were temporarily clear
then went inside
just as Miss Billings
rode along side
of the gas station
on her motorbike
then walked up
to the kiosk
where you’d taken refuge
you the new kid?
she asked
you nodded
I’m Miss Billings
she said
I work here too
in the back office
doing accounts
help out in the forecourt
if needed or the shop
in back if you’re overrun
she stood there
in her glasses
blonde hair covered
by a scarf
a black leather jacket
zipped to the neck
and helmet in one hand
white overalls coming down
to her knees
followed down
to her ankles
were red wool stockings
and white boots
on her feet
she stared at you
her eyes scrutinizing
the customer
is always right
did Mr Fredericks
tell you that?
yes
you said
well he’s right
so don’t matter
if the customer’s thick as ****
or **** stupid
they’re always right ok
so be tight Kid
tight as *****
in the *******
in a freezing shower
get it right
you nodded
and she walked in
and disappeared
into the back office
with a slow sway
of her of hips
her words
like chisel blows
to your ears
she about 21
to your 15
innocent
boyish years
she seeping
into your imagination
not knowing then
that her beauty
was probably
some marine’s image
for secret ************
Jan 21, 2013
Jan 21, 2013 at 2:17 AM UTC
As we glide
An incessant Kush
Softens the grind
Can I Sense your Soft Surface? Or
Is it merely a reflection through this
Blue,
Quasi-chequered construction?
I long to see as you see me:
A dangling *******
Encompassed by a wide,
Gasping mouth
Gargling sac
I will see you
On the next train
Jul 24, 2015
Jul 24, 2015 at 1:35 PM UTC
places where I worship
from the dark green church of my fascination with heavy frogs comes the **** body of a boy wearing the head of a heifer. his legs are not entirely under as of yet but he is let stumble. from the same dark an excessively wormed fishhook flies on a line and knocks the boy’s ******* behind like a bell. I scratch my fake arm from shoulder to elbow and believe the sound is not coming from the hook scraping back into the dark. even in dream I hallelujah lip synch.
places where I am discontent
in an abandoned dog’s house, I am, shoeless, with a slipper, in my mouth, a spotlight, caresses, dry grass, my mind, I mistake my mind, for the brain, cinerea, for cinema, my thoughts are meat, are herded, whipped at by a whipping tool, I fear nothing more than I fear, my ***** what it thinks of me, or that it thought, me, first, and lastly
beneath that whip, at the end of which, some interrogator’s, bulb.
Jun 7, 2013
Jun 7, 2013 at 1:51 PM UTC
Opening 6 am eyes
To squealing leaf blower,
time-squinching
******* tightening siren,
a drone for your eyes to
float inside,
A sudden soundtrack
to text Message suicides,
, bitterbombs ,
from New York
The words pop up wobbly,
glossy, bobbling around
to the beat of their sender’s
notions
Distressed as he wakes to the sting in his eyes
And envisions your eyes
opening after,
succeeding,
Not alarmed yet.
still separate from the void
where his thoughts
haven’t occurred yet.
Projected comics
play out in both minds,
saracastic kids,
bouncing around like
blotter acid making
escstatic pangs of
it all.
While the world drives on
A steaming freight train
heading straight through Kansas
To Alberquerque
To beyond
Until were back again going to sleep
In love with our pillows.
Jun 23, 2015
Jun 23, 2015 at 8:49 AM UTC
After many years in the basement,
behind a green tattersall shirt,
next to a plum colored robe,
is my gray tweed sports jacket;
sadly hanging like an old man’s *******
inside the left breast pocket rests
the funeral program of a man
I have learned not to hate,
or to become a semblance,
and god ****** I have not;
I still have time remaining.
Nov 24, 2016
Nov 24, 2016 at 10:09 AM UTC
Nonsensical,
weaving stories more real than reality
bland tongue can't taste its own demise
out with it, before the cancer spreads
iron maiden jacket, draining the flesh
upon pants of blood, sipping pints of lager
Four and a half kilos,
resting on the forehead of destitute
feeding on the united colors of phlegm
boiling water can't melt this viscous bile
unnecessary wait at the *******
leg left dead, the night vomits red
Classic self,
addicted to suffering, ******* apathy
*********** wildly into a fruit grinder
getafix while you're still an idiot
pretending to eat out of empty boxes
yeah, this is as real as it gets.
Aug 5, 2013
Aug 5, 2013 at 8:28 AM UTC