I have a slit in my arse.
Brenda came.
Cheese on toast.
West Ham United.
Tits.
Ginger.
Gingervitis.
Fist your mum.
Fist your mum.
Minions with fart guns.
Nipple pinch.
Snot rag.
Nostrils, nostrils, nostrils.
We go again.
Fist your mum.
Tits.
Your mum’s tits.
Bring a bottle and a gram.
Party in the orphanage.
Jose Mourinho.
William’s Wish Wellingtons.
Up to your neck in dick.
Slag.
Your opinion is irrelevant.
I’m handsome as fuck.
Nipple bollock.
Wales and Welsh people.
Chariots of Martin Offiah.
Martin O’Fire.
A knob of butter.
Knob end.
Fist your mum.
Tag: Poetry
A Dildo—Why Do You Ask? (The Good China)
NONCES TO ARMS!!!
We shan’t take their,
Prejudice any longer!
If we wish to touch,
Little boys’ bottoms,
And come inside them,
We deserve that right!
Rinse.
Blue rinse.
Often, we were made,
Of chocolate,
Then licked off by,
A komodo dragon.
Wank sock.
Wank sock.
Wank sock.
Can I borrow,
Your sock, sock, sock,
Sock, sock, sock?
Wank sock.
All the peanuts,
In the world,
Converged,
Congregated,
To one place,
At one time,
With no pants on.
Show us your dick
Not for all the tea,
In your wank sock.
Misty McFisty.
Was,
Wasn’t it?
Don’t tell Maxwell,
About it though.
Now onto,
More serious business:
Wank sock.
If I Didn’t Have You—Who Would I Hate?
Bicycle.
By sickle.
Shut your whore mouth!
Semicolon,
Or semiconductor.
What do you think?
Finicky bugger,
You are.
Get to fuck!
Ramadan was,
A time for celebration,
In Upminster.
Leaves! Leaves! Leaves!
Remains! Remains! Remains!
Stuck in the cud.
Smelly Packy Stanny,
Had had enough of the jibes,
And took a shower.
All of your nightmares,
Will become fantasies,
When you eat that Stilton.
I will commend you,
For your observance;
I’ve, indeed, a hairy arse.
I wish you were here,
Hanging by the neck,
Instead of me.
Not to be a cunt or owt,
But I think all homos,
Are disgusting cretins.
Riddled—Lob Off Your Foreskin
Bishop takes pawn:
A tale of forbidden love.
The clergy,
Is in uproar.
Cleveleys,
Became the new,
Centre of industry,
In our post dystopian world.
Take a hotshot,
In my balloon knot.
Carefully apply,
The bell cheese,
Onto the sourdough.
Nigel Bellcheese.
Cheese,
Of the bell.
Bellend.
Circumcision,
Is pretty much,
Physical abuse,
And paedophilia,
In one weird package.
There!
I said it!
Hands all over my,
Bellend.
Cleveleys.
Ready, Steady—Dick Kick
Whereupon.
I didn’t see,
Her ginormous breast,
Until the katana,
Had sliced it in twain.
Firm, pert nipple,
Irreparably ruined 😢
To you, I say thus:
“Diskley Whipelhämer,
You daft twat!”
Bald head,
And Jan Nielsen.
Imagine the fury,
Of the folk of Kiribati.
Bellend,
And foreskin.
Chlamydia was a must.
Pooh.
Turd.
Shit.
Hale & Pace;
A comedic spectacular!
Russ Abbott.
A Cracking Set—Tits
It’s morphin’ time!
Mastodon!
Pterodactyl!
Triceratops!
Sabretooth Tiger!
Tyrannosaurus!
Steve!
Rigormortis.
Down to the pub,
Went Fred Reaker,
To meet Pat Risher.
Paul Een was there,
But Rob Erta couldn’t make it.
Dogshit City,
Threw a wild knees-up,
In honour of,
The goosefish.
Back to the grill again;
The grill again…
Friends!
How many poets,
Must get dead,
Before somebody says,
“Don’t fuck wit’ Ed!”?
Wisdom was special,
Until pissflaps came along.
Blame women.
They’re the problem.
Kill them all!
Slit their throats!
Bleed them out!
Haha.
Virgin Heart—Stooping to Collect Dingleberries
Panda bear; panda bear;
What on earth dost thou doest there?
Panda bear; panda bear;
Tis not thou black eyes at which I stare.
Panda bear; panda bear;
Pray tell why for not thou care.
Panda bear; panda bear;
Tis queer to thy that thou doth rape a pear!
The pear, the pear,
The pear is on fire!
We don’t need no apples;
Let that motherfucker burn,
Burn, burn, motherfucker burn!
Timmy Chattersworth,
Gave it a ruddy good go.
What he hadn’t factored in,
However,
Was the presence,
Of little Tommy Two-Shits.
We all know,
How it goes.
Join in at home.
And a one,
And a two,
And a three, four, twelve…
Little Tommy Two-Shits;
He’s better than you.
If you’ve been for one shit,
He’s been for two.
Wander the arid deserts,
Of your warped little mind.
Sure, I said it,
But you’re reading it.
Who’s the real weirdo?
Smoking Beef—Shitting U-Boats
You have a big bum,
A big bum.
You have a big bum,
A big bum.
Hey!
Mix Andy’s urine,
With white flour.
A dash of ethanol,
And a handful of,
Pine nuts.
Put in a preheated oven,
At 200° for four hours.
Tastes bloody lovely!
Poofter.
All he did,
Was visit the Paki shop.
Ten pack o’ Berkeley Red,
And a waffle iron,
Please, Mafood.
Terrible.
Simply effing terrible.
A sausage;
A rasher of bacon;
Muhammad crammed,
Both into his gob.
Naughty imam!
Wank me off,
With your arse.
You will.
Slag!
A Damned Shame—What Became of the Doge?
I don’t take orders,
From you;
But I might,
Let you fist me.
Wazzock!
Jumping jellybean,
Did wander the sands,
Of DeLiviér Desert,
In search of,
An orthinclanaminuselibobulom.
Mystical,
And a bit of a tosspot.
Tee-hee-hee.
Dozy duck!
Tee-hee-hee-hee-heeeeee.
Pants?
Discombobulated.
If you say so.
But you’re a chocolate bar;
Incapable of rational thought.
Much like pansexuals,
And the Scottish.
Shut that fuckin’ door!
Pinky Ponk.
Ninky Nonk.
Pants.
Smelly shart.
Pillock!—Maths Is Sweaty
WATSON!
Rub it,
All over my chesticles.
Funny money,
Filtered down,
From the clown.
My shit is runny;
Down my leg,
With a load of smeg.
Frank Binmore,
Left Nippleswick,
For a new life,
In Kinshasa.
Got murdered within a day,
Coz he iz white, innit?
Bloody Germans!
Touch the arse.
Touch the arse.
Timbuktu dreaming,
And Pants von Skøldingmark.
“Diphtheria!”
Alison muttered,
Accusatorially.
Nobody listened,
Because she has,
Downs Syndrome.
Edwin Saxton–The Poeming Genius 