"wot" poems
Harry Heironymous Huffenhoffer
was leading a lonely life working nights
at the fukfoorfiffenfimmer factory
where he was in charge of loading crates
full of fukfoorfiffenfimmers, onto cargo cars destined for the city of Cincinnati.
There was such a huge demand for fukfoorfiffenfimmers in the city of Cincinnati,
poor Harry Heironymous Huffenhoffer worked his hunnyhush to the bone.
On one of his few holiday weekends,
Harry Heironymous Huffenhoffer went to a hair salon for a trim.
Here he was attended by a hairdresser named, Henrietta Huckhellopolis.
Harry Heironymous Huffenhoffer instantly fell for the husky-voiced hairdresser.
Gaining enough gumption and gallasisgoppingguff needed to bypass beating around the bush of courteous courtship,
Harry Heironymous Huffenhoffer asked Henrietta Huckhellopolis if she wanted to leerlumpaloomp later that evening.
"I would love to leerlumpaloomp later this evening," she replied, batting her long lashes lustily.
And how those two leerlumpaloomped!
They leerlumpaloomped long through the night.
They leerlumpaloomped so loudly,
the neighbours ended up sticking stuffystoils
into their sensilivities, in hopes of drowning out the noise.
Nine months later,
the lovers were blessed with a litter of lullaloonillies—wot with the loud leerlumpaloomping and all.
But, of the seven lullaloonillies, four of them had two lumpalots instead of one.
Bolstering himself against drowning in despair at the prospect of having sired freak lullaloonillies,
Harry Heironymous Huffenhoffer helped design fukfoorfiffenfimmers especially meant for lullaloonillies who have two lumpalots instead of one.
As the double-lumpalot fukfoorfiffenfimmers
were Harry Heironymous Huffenhoffer's idea, the owner of the fukfoorfiffenfimmer factory gave Harry Heironymous Huffenhoffer
a forty percent cut of the royalties.
*Fortunately some fairy tales come with a happy ending, because the city of Cincinnati was hit with a record number of lullaloonillies
born with two lumpalots instead of just the one.
The high sales of double-lumpalot fukfoorfiffenfimmers,
enabled Harry Heironymous Huffenhoffer and Henrietta Huckhellopolis
to quit their jobs and buy into the fukfoorfiffenfimmer factory.
Yes, after getting married,
Harry Heironymous and Henrietta Huckhellopolis-Huffenhoffer
lived happily hever hafter.
So did the lullaloonillies....
including those with two lumpalots instead of one.*
Sep 6, 2011
Sep 6, 2011 at 1:16 PM UTC
Iym onna mishon forra gerl
krossing China jus to si her
ona slo chrayn going west
krossing mouwntins in my kot.
Shis onna mishon for tha boi
fly eirchina for to si mi
bundling legings inna bag
wot to bring and wot to not
bring your person bring your boots
spanix boots and spanix wyn
put your bodi in this plays
taiwan boox and qinese wyn
i wil sit heer lyk an ox
wayting unda shaydi tri
wayting hyuman wil tu find me
pat my **** and skweez my ni
qyneez wyn
qyneez wyn
wyn in qyneez
qyneez wyn
pump my rat and wyn qyneez
shaydi tri with pengyou lao
thingking hyuman tu gud tu mi
wy *** look for stinki kao
Mar 20, 2012
Mar 20, 2012 at 8:47 PM UTC
Who, or why, or which, or what, Is the Akond of SWAT?
Is he tall or short, or dark or fair?
Does he sit on a stool or a sofa or a chair,
or SQUAT,
The Akond of Swat?
Is he wise or foolish, young or old?
Does he drink his soup and his coffee cold,
or HOT,
The Akond of Swat?
Does he sing or whistle, jabber or talk,
And when riding abroad does he gallop or walk
or TROT,
The Akond of Swat?
Does he wear a turban, a fez, or a hat?
Does he sleep on a mattress, a bed, or a mat,
or COT,
The Akond of Swat?
When he writes a copy in round-hand size,
Does he cross his T's and finish his I's
with a DOT,
The Akond of Swat?
Can he write a letter concisely clear
Without a speck or a smudge or smear
or BLOT,
The Akond of Swat?
Do his people like him extremely well?
Or do they, whenever they can, rebel,
or PLOT,
At the Akond of Swat?
If he catches them then, either old or young,
Does he have them chopped in pieces or hung,
or SHOT,
The Akond of Swat?
Do his people **** in the lanes or park?
Or even at times, when days are dark,
GAROTTE,
The Akond of Swat?
Does he study the wants of his own dominion?
Or doesn't he care for public opinion
a JOT,
The Akond of Swat?
To amuse his mind do his people show him
Pictures, or any one's last new poem,
or WHAT,
For the Akond of Swat?
At night if he suddenly screams and wakes,
Do they bring him only a few small cakes,
or a LOT,
For the Akond of Swat?
Does he live on turnips, tea, or tripe?
Does he like his shawl to be marked with a stripe,
or a DOT,
The Akond of Swat?
Does he like to lie on his back in a boat
Like the lady who lived in that isle remote,
SHALLOTT,
The Akond of Swat?
Is he quiet, or always making a fuss?
Is his steward a Swiss or a Swede or Russ,
or a SCOT,
The Akond of Swat?
Does like to sit by the calm blue wave?
Or to sleep and snore in a dark green cave,
or a GROTT,
The Akond of Swat?
Does he drink small beer from a silver jug?
Or a bowl? or a glass? or a cup? or a mug?
or a ***
The Akond of Swat?
Does he beat his wife with a gold-topped pipe,
When she let the gooseberries grow too ripe,
or ROT,
The Akond of Swat?
Does he wear a white tie when he dines with friends,
And tie it neat in a bow with ends,
or a KNOT.
The Akond of Swat?
Does he like new cream, and hate mince-pies?
When he looks at the sun does he wink his eyes,
or NOT,
The Akond of Swat?
Does he teach his subjects to roast and bake?
Does he sail about on an inland lake
in a YACHT,
The Akond of Swat?
Some one, or nobody, knows I wot
Who or which or why or what
Is the Akond of Swat?
3k
THE ONE ABOUT...
"Did you hear the one about..."
Death's
already laughing
"...a fireman, a butcher & a janitor
walked into a War..."
Death loves to tell this joke
Sometimes Death changes the details
"...a guy from Omaha, Ohio & Nebraska
walked into a War..."
"...and the shell fell into
the hole they were cowering in..."
Death cracks up
"...an 18 year old & two guys of twenty
walked into a War. . ."
"Wot's yer poison?" Death snickers
"...some guys called Sam, Hank & Frank
walked into a bar in a War and
they don't ever ever walk out..."
Oct 2, 2025
Oct 2, 2025 at 2:54 PM UTC
I know wot steps not to take caused in me the previous mistakes
I have driven swiftly down memory lane, I have now misled the old habits of incompetence, incompleteness and intolerance into isolation.
I have now become a thing of substance ready to be filled again but this time around I take responsibility for my choices.
In my head is the lyllaby of SPECIAL FRIEND singing
I oppose the feeling of remorse and hug tight love and self forgiveness.
U HAVE NO IDEA WHAT DIS MEANETH COS U HUNGERETH TO LEAD NOT
May 26, 2012
May 26, 2012 at 6:57 AM UTC
I wonder 'oo and wot 'e was,
That 'Un I got so slick.
I couldn't see 'is face because
The night was 'ideous thick.
I just made out among the black
A blinkin' wedge o' white;
Then biff! I guess I got 'im crack --
The man I killed last night.
I wonder if account o' me
Some ***** will go *****
And 'eaps o' lives will never be,
Because 'e's stark and dead?
Or if 'is missis damns the war,
And by some candle light,
Tow-headed kids are prayin' for
The Fritz I copped last night.
I wonder, 'struth, I wonder why
I 'ad that 'orful dream?
I saw up in the giddy sky
The gates o' God agleam;
I saw the gates o' 'eaven shine
Wiv everlastin' light:
And then . . . I knew that I'd got mine,
As 'e got 'is last night.
Aye, bang beyond the broodin' mists
Where spawn the mother stars,
I 'ammered wiv me ****** fists
Upon them golden bars;
I 'ammered till a devil's doubt
Fair froze me wiv affright:
To fink wot God would say about
The bloke I corpsed last night.
I 'ushed; I wilted wiv despair,
When, like a rosy flame,
I sees a angel standin' there
'Oo calls me by me name.
'E 'ad such soft, such shiny eyes;
'E 'eld 'is 'and and smiled;
And through the gates o' Paradise
'E led me like a child.
'E led me by them golden palms
Wot 'ems that jeweled street;
And seraphs was a-singin' psalms,
You've no ideer 'ow sweet;
Wiv cheroobs crowdin' closer round
Than peas is in a pod,
'E led me to a shiny mound
Where beams the throne o' God.
And then I 'ears God's werry voice:
"Bill 'agan, 'ave no fear.
Stand up and glory and rejoice
For 'im 'oo led you 'ere."
And in a nip I seemed to see:
Aye, like a flash o' light,
My angel pal I knew to be
The chap I plugged last night.
Now, I don't claim to understand --
They calls me Bonehead Bill;
They shoves a rifle in me 'and,
And show me 'ow to ****
Me job's to risk me life and limb,
But . . . be it wrong or right,
This cross I'm makin', it's for 'im,
The cove I croaked last night.
2.7k
You make it in your mess-tin by the brazier's rosy gleam;
You watch it cloud, then settle amber clear;
You lift it with your bay'nit, and you sniff the fragrant steam;
The very breath of it is ripe with cheer.
You're awful cold and ***** and a-cursin' of your lot;
You scoff the blushin' 'alf of it, so rich and rippin' 'ot;
It bucks you up like anythink, just seems to touch the spot:
God bless the man that first discovered Tea!
Since I came out to fight in France, which ain't the other day,
I think I've drunk enough to float a barge;
All kinds of fancy foreign dope, from caffy and doo lay,
To *** they serves you out before a charge.
In back rooms of estaminays I've gurgled pints of cham;
I've swilled down mugs of cider till I've felt a bloomin' dam;
But 'struth! they all ain't in it with the vintage of Assam:
God bless the man that first invented Tea!
I think them lazy lumps o' gods wot kips on asphodel
Swigs nectar that's a flavour of Oolong;
I only wish them sons o' guns a-grillin' down in 'ell
Could 'ave their daily ration of Suchong.
Hurrah! I'm off to battle, which is 'ell and 'eaven too;
And if I don't give some poor bloke a sexton's job to do,
To-night, by Fritz's campfire, won't I 'ave a gorgeous brew
(For fightin' mustn't interfere with Tea).
To-night we'll all be tellin' of the Boches that we slew,
As we drink the giddy victory in Tea.
2.2k
**** all, **** all, **** all
Sweet ***** Adams, sweet ***** Adams, sweet ***** Adams
**** all, **** all, **** all
There's **** all you can rip off that can't be ripped off
****** all you can spit that can't be spat
**** all you can jabber but you can wot how to fiddle the velociraptor
Page—3 girl's always ready for a chat
There's **** all you can **** that can't be ******
No one you can stuff that can't be stuffed
Sweet **** all you can ***** but you can wot how to vegetate you swanky metronome
Über—babe's loose
All you need is **** all
All you need is **** all
All you need is **** all, sweet ***** Adams
**** all is all you need
**** all, **** all, **** all
Sweet ***** Adams, sweet ***** Adams, sweet ***** Adams
**** all, **** all, **** all
All you need is **** all
All you need is **** all
All you need is **** all, sweet ***** Adams
**** all is all you need
There's **** all you can have carnal knowledge of that isn't *****
**** all you smell that isn't uncorked
Thumbs down on the spot you lunch box be on the spot that isn't on the spot you're meant rubbing shoulders be spot on
Blonde's thick
All you need is **** all
All you need is **** all
All you need is **** all, sweet ***** Adams
**** all is all you need
All you need is **** all
All you need is **** all
All you need is **** all, sweet ***** Adams
**** all is all you need
****** all is all you need
That is all you thirst
That is all you lust
That is all you desiderium
That is all you la nostalgie de la boue
Mar 24, 2010
Mar 24, 2010 at 4:22 PM UTC
Stopper allsh Chub forsh shrame Good Chinwag, yah?
Arsh sieve Combatibles posh Boys bare playe
Shaye, yay Share! Bar score thore Pieces me - bah!
Mayse Lion bare thine; Yare Deer-Berry splaye
Wot cot Beagle-Risen thorse Polliwog
Spout Arms dash Legs arsh instant forsh shore Sport
Water-Rouse, rebound! Spare Skin-Sherry shogg
Staple coach-wires faye John Tom's Report
Behave, tharne! Parallipparel Shape conduct
Pour-Pore noodlesee Six-Squares shrub contesse
Mare beere yorsh Chest torso-avenue locke
Reprodpress marsh baye Bub-Peppers finesse.
Staye-upon-staye bore thoose talkitook borough
Boy-ish-Boy-font-fare-Potiphar-although.
Mar 22, 2013
Mar 22, 2013 at 7:59 AM UTC
Now this is a story all about how
My life had been flipped and turned upside down
Let's take a minute, just sit right there
I'll tell ya how I tumbled down the stairs
I was chilling with the fam
We were watching Voltron
When something happened
That made me go "WOT?!"
I thought it'd be funny
To pretend to throw
Myself down the stairs
I said "Down I go!"
I went down a couple
And then a few more
I never intended
To go all the way to the floor
I kept falling
Headfirst into each step
It was scary
But I couldn't get a grip
I tried to grab on
To the rail of the stairs
But all was a fail
As I couldn't hold on
I felt the hope slip
Out of my grip
As I fell down the stairs
Laughing to tears
Or was I crying?
Nah
It was pretty funny
Even though my friends didn't try to save me.
Mar 7, 2018
Mar 7, 2018 at 12:11 AM UTC
Sitting in a chair counting spots that passed before my eyes.
The insect smiled and said "hold still" i missed one.
They swirl this way and that.
dont move Please. be still.
Not an easy task
a fever of 104.2
could you. I think that I shall never see
a poem lovely as a tree.
Sitting on my blanketed chest
The insect did his best to sing me a lullaby.
his breath was horrendous but he meant well.
He stroked my burning cheek and
changed the cool washcloth regularly
on my aching head.
Then turned my pillow to the cool side again.
There my friend.
He scuttled under with me and snuggled
his hairy legs were itchy and rough.
small price to pay.
eh wot.
Oh yes we have no bananas
We have no bananas today.
Captain if we keep pushing her like this
she's gonna blow.
We regret to inform you that
the price of tea in China is now
High as gas in California.
Chicken broth he brought
with a silver spoon to boot
The insect waited patiently
as I swallowed then spooned
the next load in.
"Here let me wipe you chin."
Ladies and gentlemen and all ships at see
The Hindenburg has landed
oh the humanity.
This is not the end
No not the beginning of the end.
But more, the end of the beginning.
Help me up Mr Checks. I think I gotta ***
Oops forgot to raise the lid.
Mr Checks. Can you have room service come up.
we need more Trowels. Uh towels.
Stop hogging the remote. Where's mom
Have you seen my Teddy with one eye missing.
To bed to bed
You sleepy head .
Tarry a while said slow.
Put the *** said greedy glut
Lets stuff before we go .
Mr Checks.
All hands on deck.
We dont have enough lifeboats sir.
The iceberg is sky blue and beautiful dont you agree.
What do you do with a drunken sailor
early in the morning.
Heave ** and up she rises
Early in the morning.
THIS FEVERISH DREAM TO BE CONTINUED.
Nov 18, 2012
Nov 18, 2012 at 11:49 AM UTC
yud say av gorra chip on me shoulder
if i adunett it
am from fukkn inner city liverpool la
an a won' letya fuggerit
yer posh scrans jus werds ter me
so gerrit down ya neck
instedda waxin lyrical abar it
coz a doh no wot ya jus sed
Feb 8, 2015
Feb 8, 2015 at 2:43 PM UTC
SCHRöDINGER'S SOCKS & THE REVENGE OF THE CAT
Schrödinger's cat
failed to see just what
all the fuss was
about?
It was all such
a reductive absurdum.
The cat couldn't understand
collapsing wave functions
decoherence
entanglement or whether
reality was really
quantum
to save its life.
It was aware of
one thing & one thing
only
. . .the diabolic device. . .
Cat in a metal box
with a Geiger counter
with a radioactive substance
blah blah de ****** blah
an atom decaying or something or
other &
releasing a hammer to smash
a phial of hydrocyanic acid.
Wot!
"I do not like thee Dr. Fell!"
thought the cat.
It was a very literary cat.
So all this palaver
about a cat( me? how! )
being both dead or alive or
neither dead or alive or
. . .wot!
So this is to be my great
to-be-or-not-to-be!
Welllll excuse me!
Say...doesn't the cat have his say?
So, I( clever cat that I am)
merely claw my way to the top &
disengage the device
by taking out the hammer.
So no cat was harmed
in the making of this
thought experiment.
It almost drove Schrödinger
out of his tiny little mind!
And he( hee hee )
never did discover
what ever
happened to his socks.
I forever stealing
one sock from a pair
from the open
washing machine.
Leaving him to ponder
just where socks go?
The other side of the Universe?
Oh come on Erwin...it's not
rocket science!
Now, to get back to
describing the behaviour of
a quantum entity.
"Mmmmm......mmmmmm?"
"Naw....I still don't get it!"
"Say ya couldn't see yer way
to giving me a scratch...could ya?"
"Up a bit....upabit....yeah...yeah
. . .there...just...there!"
Sep 1, 2016
Sep 1, 2016 at 1:16 PM UTC
I stood beside the grave of him who blazed
The comet of a season, and I saw
The humblest of all sepulchres, and gazed
With not the less of sorrow and of awe
On that neglected turf and quiet stone,
With name no clearer than the names unknown,
Which lay unread around it; and asked
The Gardener of that ground, why it might be
That for this plant strangers his memory tasked
Through the thick deaths of half a century;
And thus he answered—”Well, I do not know
Why frequent travellers turn to pilgrims so;
He died before my day of sextonship,
And I had not the digging of this grave.”
And is this all? I thought,—and do we rip
The veil of Immortality? and crave
I know not what of honour and of light
Through unborn ages, to endure this blight?
So soon, and so successless? As I said,
The Architect of all on which we tread,
For Earth is but a tombstone, did essay
To extricate remembrance from the clay,
Whose minglings might confuse a Newton’s thought,
Were it not that all life must end in one,
Of which we are but dreamers;—as he caught
As ’twere the twilight of a former Sun,
Thus spoke he,—”I believe the man of whom
You wot, who lies in this selected tomb,
Was a most famous writer in his day,
And therefore travellers step from out their way
To pay him honour,—and myself whate’er
Your honour pleases,”—then most pleased I shook
From out my pocket’s avaricious nook
Some certain coins of silver, which as ’twere
Perforce I gave this man, though I could spare
So much but inconveniently:—Ye smile,
I see ye, ye profane ones! all the while,
Because my homely phrase the truth would tell.
You are the fools, not I—for I did dwell
With a deep thought, and with a softened eye,
On that Old Sexton’s natural homily,
In which there was Obscurity and Fame,—
The Glory and the Nothing of a Name.
1.2k
Numbles is a fictitious place, a state of mind.
I go there from time to time
in search of rhyme and reason
When required
Here in Numbles The calliope plays non stop
words fall from the hopper neatly written out,
written neatly on white plastic ***** the size of owl's eggs.
They roll down the chute and line up
in rational sentences of pure opaque poetry.
Unabashed and shameless a bit cocky eh wot.
An I dont give a dam a style like the
party girl who just hit her liquor limit
She has one shoe in her hand and her purse
in the other Tipsy?
I used to get budded, drop a 33 LP
diamond needle with a brush,
Wax was a choice over tape or disc
just a better eargasmic experience.
Numbles here I come.
Reverse engineering the things I'd been hearing
Oz .The sun shone in neon streams and the
gusting breezes tasted like cool peppermint schnapps
The cops wore broad pinstripes and penny loafers.
A storybook ending every time
The pieces of the poem puzzles
cake walked with spated shoes .
like homing pigeons on the wing
to roost and coo, they knew.
Numbles is the place where
the sky was ever-blue.
I still day trip to that magical place
sans herbalsupplimentation.
or distilledfermentation.
Sleepdeprivation gets me to the towns square
All my old friends are there
still.
.
Nov 26, 2012
Nov 26, 2012 at 3:01 AM UTC
am a scouser la
dont want ya la dee da
grew up wid a yard
saw gardens from afar
jus me an me ma
wid ar windows barred
against da smackheads
an da scallys
dat wanted wots ars
not dat wot wuz ars
wuz ars anyway
stuff lifted off a wagon
dat got lost on edge lane
comin off da 62
could get ya waylaid
passin thru where i grew up
back in da day
Mar 14, 2014
Mar 14, 2014 at 12:25 PM UTC
K, so here’s the deal,
English will change,
Goi!
Gr8 eh?
Lol.
B4u know it, all changed.
Fyi some call it Textese or SMS Language.
But through will become thru
And though of course tho
Anyway.
Goi.
K so this poem might not trend,
But I’m way ahead of my time,
That’s my Msg.
N2u tho that may b.
That things must change,
That is.
8 it don’t u?
Such g9.
Scary Tbh.
4 me and 4u.
(Bm&y;).
(I prefer you as yu it's tru).
Just Gfi is wot I say.
Even when Prw!
Somy?
Sotmg.
Soz
Laters – Sbtsbc.
Ttfn and bfn.
Say.
Sit my friend.
Paul Butters
© PB 13\8\2015.
Aug 13, 2015
Aug 13, 2015 at 10:46 AM UTC
Where’s the dog, where’s the dog?
There are burglars in the house
But the dog sleeps oh so quietly
As quietly as a mouse.
And so the husband, he takes charge
It’s the middle of the night
Reluctantly creeping down the stairs
He’s our hero in full – fright.
Of course – there was nobody there
It was one of those ‘sounds in the night’
And our hero couldn’t have seen him
He’d forgotten to turn on the light.
The hero thus returns to bed
Not to welcoming open arms
His wife has drifted back to sleep
Oblivious to his charms.
Oh well he thinks as he gets in bed
And then he falls himself to sleep
Meanwhile below, the hidden thief
Leaves for his home with swag to keep.
©JRW2014
Mar 7, 2014
Mar 7, 2014 at 4:25 PM UTC
It is the ordinary
For me
That so often
Fills the memory
This is how I tell it ……
She didn’t give a ****
The ice cream seller
19 years – quite pretty
Sunday, New Brighton Parade
: )
Hey!
Wot U @
**** all
Through the hatch I saw her
Mobile in hand
Sitting on a *** that would
Get bigger – and better – with time
U?
At work
Its crap
Lol
She barely bothered
To look up from the phone
Casual disregard, I found appealing
To my ****** side
U out last nite?
Yeah ******* smashed
Went home with that guy
U know the one
Two strawberry cones please
And a vanilla
Don’t do strawberry
Just vanilla
***** mare !!
PMSL
I need to stop
He’s using U
Is there anywhere else?
Yeah, try up Vale Park
Just up there, round the corner
It’s cheaper too
U still there?
Yeah, sorry, a customer
Can’t be arsed today
Haha, don’t blame U
I left her there
Back on her ***
Leaning over the phone
Hoping for no customers
****
He just txt
Wot do I do?
Tell him to **** off
We found Vale Park
Saved three quid
As with jealousy she cursed
Her mate and the ice cream.
Aug 21, 2015
Aug 21, 2015 at 1:51 PM UTC
Michelangelo from marble made man,
Beyond Perfection.
An Ultimate image,
as Apollo's Earthrise on Luna,
or Showcase #4.
Germany has it's Beatles,
Just as Liverpool does too,
And I've seen pictures of a wall that stretches the length of China.
Pyramids rise out of the Deserts of Egypt,
The Jungles of the Aztecs,
and the Mountains of the Mayans.
A Colosseum still stands in Rome,
And every temple envy's the ones in Angkor Wot
For every age a legend.
For every actor a role.
For every writer a story,
and painter a painting,
and general a battle,
and architect a structure.
Wright and Wolfe and
Orwell and Wells and
Kafka and Kubrick and
Lenin and Lennon and McCartney
and MacArthur and Patton
and Plato and Dvořák.
There is a perfect apple pie in every mother's mind.
A perfect game in every pitcher's eye.
A work of art around every corner,
Stuck to refrigerators,
And tucked away underneath children sized beds.
Hanging in every high-school hallway,
Spray painted on every highway overpass.
A Planet-wide gallery
as simple as a finger-painting,
As grand as that canyon out in Arizona.
A world full of masterpieces...
But for me...
Only you...
Only you.
Jul 10, 2014
Jul 10, 2014 at 11:19 PM UTC
she said her name
was: "Zeta Ampersand!"
"Wot?" I wotted?
her Da had named her after
some mathematical function
Ampersand she just liked the sound
she even signed her self
ζ (& ) "...the artist formerly known as
my self!"
"59 & 509...both primes!" she smiled
"30, 031...isn't!"
"!?!" I said
I watched a snake
of sweet sweat slither
between her cleavage
"...the Buckmisterfullerene molecule is
like a soccer ball...blah de blah.."
"Uh huh..yeah...I'm...eh...listening..."
to my heart beat
wildly out of control
she an Everest...I the foothills
said she liked
Daft Punk & kissing
"Now there's a coincidence..." I whispered
Daft Punk I didn't know but
I had a 1st Class Honours
in kissing &...stuff
we made love with
AROUND THE WORLD on replay
"Call me Z..." she sighed
*** with her was like
voicing alveolar sibilant fricatives
"Gee Zee...geeee!" was all I could say
I was an quantic entity
experiencing wave/particle duality
for the first time forever
Aug 8, 2015
Aug 8, 2015 at 8:15 PM UTC
LEARNING FROM MY DAUGHTER
she poses
pauses
poses
"Wot ya doin'
Tilly
my eyes question her
"I'm inventing
my self
making my world"
I wordless
my daughter far more
wiser than her father
could ever be
but then
she's three
Jun 28, 2023
Jun 28, 2023 at 10:53 AM UTC
I am thankfully fortunate
Though i owe thou.
A sober kiss thou deserve
Though Methinks its impossible,
Thy presence intoxicates me
I am thankful
I am happily thankful
Thy touch
Grants angels hands shame
Thy aroma
Fives air its freshness
I am fortunate
I am somber
I am misplaced from thy presence
I am regretful
I canst not until beam
Yet,
I am fortunate
That i wot thou
Aug 27, 2021
Aug 27, 2021 at 8:54 AM UTC