Edwin Saxton–The Poeming Genius
Poeming is for life. And pretentious cunts! And weirdos. I'm a bit of everything…
Mincer.
Israel has a lot,
To answer for.
Question one:
Where’s Keith?
Down the pub.
He followed,
The DC Cook sign.
Mincer.
Red means go.
Green means left.
The ship has sailed.
She wants different,
Sperm in her womb.
Cowboys and Pakistanis.
Sugar-frosted peanuts,
Drop from the sky,
Like pellets of death.
Desensitised sheep.
Rid the world,
Of peach melba.
The smiles of,
The many trump,
The frowns of,
The few.
Mincer.
The larder is bare,
Like your arse.
Put some pants on!
Slag!
Riding shotgun,
In Haverfordwest,
Bûm gall unwaith;
Hynny oedd,
Llefain pan ym ganed.
Show this,
To your mother,
Then punch her,
In the throat!
Maybe,
Just maybe,
Josef Fritzl was,
Just misunderstood.
Maybe…
Lest we forget,
Little Tommy Two-Shits.
He is,
After all,
Better than you!
I hit a bum note.
Ha–fudge packer!
My knob,
Is smaller than yours,
But much sexier.
Jack Spratt,
Could eat no fat;
His wife,
Could eat no lean.
Jeffrey Dahmer,
Just ate people.
Slap-happy slippers,
With kippers,
And chicken dippers,
Erm… schmippers.
Scissor me timbers!
Clam jousting,
With Ikram;
Finger pie.
A pair of glassus.
Smelly socks,
And a knickers.
William’s Wish Wellingtons;
Bernard’s Watch.
For Ed,
King Ed,
The Poeming Genius,
The greatest poemer,
Of all time,
A trinket to reward,
His incredibleness.
Now kneel,
Lowly peasants!
Let the wind blow.
Parp!
Smelly bastard!
In shock,
Gustav rears his head,
Spits out a tooth,
Then cries.
Laugh,
Little orphan.
Laugh,
Thalidomide victim.
Laugh,
Scruffy tramp.
Stop being,
So ungrateful!
Yes, yes, oh yes,
Oh yes.
Wicker furniture,
And herpes;
The fun we could have.
Suck my cock,
You fucking whore!
Deep throat,
That shit!
Swallow my load,
And don’t throw up.
Trollop!
El Mariachi,
Tunes his guitarrón.
The vihuela,
Sits alone;
Its player:
Ocupado.
The trumpeters,
Argue over whom,
Ate the last,
Escamole.
The humidity,
Hangs heavy,
Like Esperanza’s brasier,
On the washing line.
Dim and morbid;
Dingy and fetid.
Finally together,
Disjointedly so,
The heavenly strum,
Pierces the ether.
Transfixed by,
A simple peasants timbre.
There will be no death,
In this dangerous place.
Not tonight.
“Alegrémonos!”
The sentiment of all.
We will,
Let them play.
Pete Burns’ Lips.
Competing for,
Number one with,
The Kristen Stewart Facial Expressions.
Great bands!
Tits!
Tits!
I love tits!
Come on,
Get yer tits out ladies!
Arabian Goggles;
A bollock per eye.
Amadeus Hitler,
Loving life,
In solitary confinement.
Down the slide:
Weeeeeeeeeeee!
Thump!
Ouch!
My bottom!
Front bottom.
Minge and twat,
Flaps.
Vaginal insurgence.
Sieg Heil!
Bloody Nazis!
I browse.
Eyebrows.
Bottom.
A sock to wipe the jizz;
A sock to wipe the jizz;
All you need,
Once you’ve done the biz,
Is a sock to wipe the jizz.
Empty balls,
And a full gun.
Nothing left to do,
But kill fuckers!
Posh cunts!
They can fuck off!
Go through your,
Browser history.
Delete the kiddie porn.
One last tug.
What do you expect,
Of a policeman?
Warfsnaxl!
Caress my buttock,
With a dirk.
Slice it deep,
And drain the blood.
Rump steaks,
For all tonight.
Windows, windows!
The light streams in!
Curtains pulled in twain,
Reveal the orb.
Much too deep,
And serious.
Use a Caramac,
To wipe my arse,
Then sodomise,
Your cousin.
Aah, equilibrium!
Went forth,
To wage war,
In Bognor Regis,
With raging queers.
Cut their dicks off!
Filthy shit-stabbers!
Mu-ha-ha-haaa!
Beryl.
We tried,
And failed.
Be reet!
Fuck off!
Mong!
Twelve miles,
In spandex kecks.
Testicular origami,
Abounds.
Wise old bastard,
Toasts his bread,
On one side,
And butters the one,
Untoasted.
Fish fingers.
Smimpoliwash,
Derek Jacobi,
Of farts and winnets.
Wash,
The impurities,
From your pubes.
Touch your toes,
And eat your spinach.
Driven by,
A Ford Transit,
Into a brothel.
Bind your hands,
With barbed wire.
Spongy in texture.
Frothy in nature.
Dexterous in appearance.
Oaken in aroma.
A wilted flower,
Some might say,
But not me.
I think it’s shit!
Your revenge,
Sweet as it may feel,
Shan’t last,
And you will be,
The one who suffers,
When all is said,
And done.
Ladel on the cheese;
Spread it thick,
Like your lies,
And barbed platitudes.
Rise from the ashes,
Of despair.
Win again the day,
Like you once did,
But be modest,
And noble,
In victory.
Oops!
I just shat,
My pants…
