I danced naked in the barley fields,
Frolicked like an elf, sung joyous tunes.
Barley crop rustled in the wind,
Tickled my bare skin as I hopped about with gay abandon.
Barley crop tickled the insides of my ears and nose.
When I thought about it later, the vision made sense,
Except for why I hadn’t frolicked
Amid more exotic crops
And why in heaven’s name
I hadn’t worn earmuffs and nosemuffs.
Boy, that was one freaky motherfucker of a dream.
O Beautiful maiden, I think you are so fine.
There is something most other-worldly about your form:
For instance, my training in astronomy tells me
That your ‘hooters’ should better be called anterior meteorites,
Possibly of Kryptonian origin I concur,
Cos I know I am Superman, yet feel so weak inside
When I am in proximity to you.
The rest of you is pretty fine too;
I have taken a shine to you,
O foxy vixen.
Don’t miss the intended pun in that,
For a foxy vixen is a foxy fox.
‘You wuss! You jerk!
You bastard!’, she screamed.
‘You don’t have balls!’, she scoffed.
‘Quite right’, I replied,
‘For as a matter of fact,
They are a lot more like ellipsoids.’
Never before has this all too human dick
felt so oppressed within the confines of propriety
and a rather tight pair of knickers.
I dreamt last night
of a world in which
my cock reigned supreme.
The imagery of the dream
was very ‘Crusades-meets-4 Horsemen of the Apocalypse.’
The Cock subjugated men and women
by preternatural dimensions and prowess;
its fame soon pervaded the land.
O venerable hard-on!
We swear our allegiance to you, and you alone!
But alas, I woke to face
the gruesome reality:
Admin work at the institute;
manhood: limp, flaccid, and destitute.
Attractive women who won’t give you the time of day,
rendering aimless the primitive throbbings
south of the navel.
Shit.
Never before has this all too human dick
felt so oppressed within the confines of propriety
and a rather tight pair of knickers.
I am a Knight; in shining armour I am clad,
With faithful steed galloping night and day,
Wearing iron once nearly cost me a gonad,
Yet from my duty I never sway.
Over mighty hills, through barren land,
l travel like a maniacal bitch,
Evil I purge by my own hand,
Come Famine, Deluge or Jock Itch.
While on my travels I go easy on the beer
And also eat light because of my attire,
For if I need to piss or crap urgently I fear
That the eventualities could be quite dire.
I fancy my chances in a duel, if mounted,
Masterfully wielding a lance,
And if the convenience factor is counted
It’s also good for a pole dance.
So basically I am Sir Lancelot
With a bit of a kinky side,
As I also like to prance a lot
But I take it in my stride.
End.
There was once a girl called Beth
Who took a lot of Crystal Meth
She first was overjoyed
Then a little paranoid
And eventually caused her own death.
————–
Bob sat on the edge of a beautiful cliff
And facing the ocean he lit up a spliff
But after a few drags
The seagulls became hags
He threw away the joint scared stiff.
————–
He appeared to be an innocent trucker
So Jim decided to make him a sucker
Jim’s pranks were crude
But this time was screwed
As the guy was a bad mother fucker.
———————–
End.
There was once a young man called Jim
No soul was more horny than him
As he grew older
His actions got bolder
And was neutered by prudish Kim.
—————
Since the time he was nine
He dreamt of using one pick-up line
So he became a miner
And asked the girl at the diner,
‘Honey, your place or Mine ?’
—————-
Bob dozed off under a tree one night
But awoke when something didn’t feel right
For the tree was speaking
And also man-eating
Saying its ‘bark’ was worse than its bite.
—————-
A great sportsman he was but had suffered many pitfalls
His only recourse was his family business of selling dolls
He got so frustrated
That he got castrated
And then ended up playing Billiards, with his balls.
—————–
I am inebriated way past cuckoo, and now
You metamorphose into Beyoncé Knowles and how.
What are these strange symbols that your hand inscribes
On my bare chest with that charcoal in your hand pray describe?
O Amazon Woman I beseech you!
Sombre mantras whispered into my ear ever so gently,
Mesmerised, I listen to your voice so intently,
Transported to a primeval space, high as a kite
In a cavern by the cliff isolated by the night.
But hark! What are those strange chants coming from over there ?
Men dancing round a fire in asymmetric leaf underwear.
The light dawns on me: I will soon be sacrificed,
Prior to which I must endure being pillaged, chastised.
Trapped; helpless in this dim lit cavity,
To be sacrificed at the altar of depravity.
Beyoncé! Thou art the Goddess shrouded in mysticism,
Thou shalt perform the pleasurable exorcism.
So if you must, then go ahead ride me,
But for the love of God or Satan do not deride me.
O Amazon Woman I beseech you!
Satire. Poetry. Human Beings