Let me tell you a true story of tragic love;
And you had better believe it, for there's no lie.
'Twas on the Isle of Kos that I met Helga one day,
Sitting in a taverna, sipping an ouzo.
I sat down and we soon exchanged a word or two,
Flirting and teasing 'til the sun sank in the sea.
I suggested a walk on the beach (subtle move)
Which is when I received a nice little surprise.
She stood up in all her glory and then I found
That she was well over a eighteen inches shorter than my humble self,
A genuine short-**** with a prosthetic leg to boot
Which promised me something rather special.

Nothing put out, we ended up in my bedroom
And I shoved my hot tongue right up her angelic ****.
"Did you like that?" I enquired (a gent as always)
"It was repulsive," she replied with a slight sneer.
And when we woke up together the next bright morn
I found she had vomited on my bedside jeans,
Before leaving me alone on the encrusted sheets.
Unfortunately the jeans shrunk a bit when I washed the puke out
And their exquisite tightness on my private parts
Reminded me for several days of this amorous encounter.

Was her criticism of my oral skills her unusual Norwegian humour?
Perhaps she really meant to call me her Übermensch?
Maybe it was sarcasm and got lost in translation
So stimulated was she post-orgasmically.
One horrid thought still remains - she might have meant it
(after all, as Nietzsche once said so observantly
"in revenge and in love woman is more barbarous than man.").
And thus I am left with confused memories of that night:
Her face was that of blond angel but her tongue was sharp
And it really was a crying shame about her leg-stump
Which wept slightly.

O, to be in dear Petronella
Now that Spring is here!
But alas, poor lass, she is no more,
Bereft of life, dead and gone,
Breathing through the grass,
O woe, O woe are we,
The fat ****'s snuffed it.

No more will I and my friends
Ardent admirers all
(by the rancid cartload),
Feel her horrid toothless gums
Slurp their lascivious path of glory
Across our bloated obesities,
******* and slobbering,
Muttering sweetest nothings
Through mangled, matted pubics.

No more shall we feel her body
Groaning under every butch ******,
Uttering imprecations of desire.
However one consolation is ours:
We who remain behind on earth
Can have undisputed use of the giant *******
And will no longer need to cleanse it
Following Petronella's awful misuse thereof.

These horrid thoughts came to me
As in a terrible, foetid nightmare;
And I dreamed I saw Petronella's grave
Bedecked with flowers and phlegm;
And the holy angels sang overhead,
"It's an ill wind that blows
Out of the back passage
Once it's been ****** good and hard".

come on darling take a chance with us
our meat is on the seams of a blue-blooded funeral
a **** body burial, and the volcanoes laugh

the thumbs shake
as the fingers dance
makes the rain pull its roots on
for the showcase the generic plants
will perform a feral routine

every **** a command-stop forwarded
the nucleus inside of a vitrified half-assed colon
and if they shiver they will find their saw
tailored to the head of that aurulent god

a caterpillar reads the braille and follows my wrist
he condescends, and breaks notions causing new alarm
they are all special, green feet and orange sinewy lines
he casts his blame he curses across the myriad storms

gold minarets in the distance
serpents living under man-made rocks
counting down the seconds on armageddon's clock

a lion counts his livestock
he puts his socks on, he wears a headdress
in the shape of a flame

just outside the shadows of an autumn day

Who's master do you serve?
Asked the mistress to Mr longnhard
I serve
Master Bation,
Replied Mr longnhard
The mistress replied back
'Do you have any idea how I get ahold of this master Bation?
Mr longnhard replied'
You can get ahold of him you just need one or two finger's
To reach out to him!

Objectify
Subjectify
Bite my neck
Warm my body with yours
This isn't the birds and bees
This is crows and wasps
She wants me to pull her hair
Arch your back
Let the shiver crawl up your spine
Open your eyes
Put your nails in my back
Make me bleed
Make me bleed
Kiss me recklessly
****** pump
Put her on the wal just like she likes
**** the breast
Feel the heat
Bite the ****** till her feet curl
You don't even know the things I would do
Convince me it's wrong just at the right time
Tame the beast
Let him free
Bring me back
Take control
Leave your marks
Tattoo my back
Blood scabs and nails
Those aren't bruises
That's me mark
Don't forget
The scream you had
The moan in the corner
Choke me
Choke her grasp your Hands
Don't run away
Every single mark you make
Isn't love
It a just rough
The blood you drew and the marks I mad
The anger and delight the relief that pleasures me
And to you
We take it down
Till we both fall apart
And in the morning
Let it rain
Don't let the bee's buzz
And the birds chirp
I want to you to wake with a sore throat
And I a sore back
Sing to me
Your raspy screams
Because I prefer wasps and crows
then the birds and bee's

This bold mahogany dawn never retires
Buckets of roses unfold along the slopes of this graphite mountain
Smoke stirs from the cave wall paintings
Where wild horses lead the feral battles of yesterday

The most vulnerable humans could ever be is now
With four eyes and four arms open.
She might be as wet as a blonde Swedish shark- no matter.

The best and worst of life comes from the sacred triangle

Consumed by a life
    She couldn't handle anymore
          Ashamed by desires
       Too desperate to score
               It's just too addicting
   She wants nothing more
Watching everything she loves
            Walk out the door
    Finds money where she can
         But still living life poor
          Too smart to get too involved
     And too dumb to ignore it
             She don't even care
      They all call her a *****
Now thinking, as she sees the knife
           This isn't what she prepared for
    But with a little thought, she knows  
It's what she's always had in store
              As she lays, bleeding out
     On her ****** kitchen floor

'Cause ***** words
                    nasty and ****** words
                                                 are the cleanest of expressions.
        
                 For they have the ingredient of naked truth.