Edwin Saxton–The Poeming Genius
Poeming is for life. And pretentious cunts! And weirdos. I'm a bit of everything…
If a tree,
Falls in the woods,
And nobody is,
Around to hear,
It…
Can I borrow,
Your sock?
Cry, cry, cry, oh cry.
Die, die, die, oh die.
Fart in a bottle.
Jasper Carrott,
Ate John Parrott,
And got severe indigestion,
Then exploded.
Menstruate,
Like you never menstruated,
Before.
Two in the stink,
One in the eyeball.
In the German nick,
Where they hang you,
By the dick,
And the rats,
Play snooker with your,
Balls.
Fart in a bottle.
Dotcom.
Can I borrow,
Your sock?
There once was,
A vicar called Reg,
Who ate an,
Awful lot of veg.
His tits were droopy,
His mum was loopy,
And he liked,
To finger her arsehole,
On occasion.
I’m extremely attractive.
But I smell,
Of leeks,
And sheep shit.
Because I’m Welsh.
Snort a line,
Off my shaft.
Then bum,
My bum.
A shout-out,
To my homies,
The non-binary guys:
You’re weird cunts,
And you need,
To fuck off!
Cretins!
James McClean is a cunt!
Breathe in,
My fart.
Call me,
Sexy.
Can my friend,
Borrow your sock,
Sock, sock, sock,
Sock, sock, sock,
Sock?
Will you go,
With my mate?
A piece of shit.
Your mum’s,
Eating her,
Sister’s cunt,
And a Twix.
Hahaha.
Ha!
Ha-ha-haaaaaa!
Tee-hee-hee!
Gary Glitter.
Condoms are great,
For what they are,
But I’d rather,
Shoot my load,
In you…
…r sock.
Fresh out the gate,
A tired, old hag.
Something, something eight,
A dirty, fat slag.
Washing machines,
Last longer with,
Peans.
Not quite peas;
Not quite beans.
But something special,
In-betweens.
It is,
Fucking massive!
Squeezy,
Cheesy,
Peas.
Peans.
Ooooooooooooh!
Ooh–ooh–dr–dripping!
Now,
If you would indulge,
Me,
I,
Would like to direct,
Your attention,
Towards,
An alternative.
Tits.
Show us your wife’s,
Sock.
Peans.
Tits.
Creepy music,
And paranormal shit.
Yuri Gagarin’s,
Tits.
Bad guys,
Who like to,
Luton Plunder.
Mildred Hubble,
Had cunt stubble.
Ha—constable.
Constantinople.
It’s not milk;
It’s a sock,
You spastic!
While we’re on the subject,
Can I borrow,
Your sock?
Rip Torn.
Privet Hedges.
Four-legged spider,
Called Martin.
Exchange and Martin.
Come on!
Get it out!
What a way to go!
Speccy four-eyes!
Jamaica?
No, she’s too stubborn.
Genoa?
Not personally.
Russian?
Yes, or I’ll miss my bus.
Helium?
Close—he’s called Ian.
Are any of you dicks,
Even reading,
The shit I write?
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.
Could it be said,
All at once,
“Not on your Nellie!”?
Idiocracy trumps autocracy.
Belonging to someone,
Overruled her pride.
Rastafarian porn!
Rastafarian porn!
Only the best,
Will do for Charmaine.
Yemeni ombudsman;
Opium dealer on the sly.
Underhanded dealings;
Rife as they are sly.
Stupid dickhead!
Open your legs!
Choke on a penis!
Kindly fuck off!
Colin!
Bastard!
Get your fingers,
Out of your tooter.
Can I borrow,
Your sock, sock, sock,
Sock, sock, sock, sock,
SOCK!!!
Undoubtedly,
This was Eggbert’s,
Finest hour.
That was until,
Little Tommy Two-Shits,
Rocked up.
As we know,
Little Tommy Two-Shits,
Is better than you.
If you’ve been for one shit,
He’s been for two.
Drink from your poisoned chalice,
Foolish boy!
Ignore the burn,
As it slips into your stomach.
The pain,
That shall follow,
Will be worth,
The moment of bliss!
From one nonce,
To another:
I like little boys’ bottoms.
Justin Fletcher,
And Blippi.
Arsenic.
Haha—domestic abuse.
Onto something,
A little more,
Serious.
Did we ever discover,
If Dankle Wheezemop,
Was the infamous,
Roof tile thief?
Take an antacid,
And stop whining!
Goodness gracious!
What a terrible mess!
Ostrich feathers,
And gloom juice,
Combine to make,
A substance hitherto,
Unknown to science.
A pair of glassus.
“Can I,”
She started,
“Borrow,”
She continued,
“Your sock?”
She asked.
Infertility,
Is no laughing matter.
Tee-hee-hee.
Codswallop!
Finger us arse.
Get a dildo,
And poke yourself,
In the eye.
Sally’s underwear.
Sounds ludicrous,
Right?
A Tale of Morons,
And Mongs,
In Addis Ababa.
Drink your sister’s,
Menstrual blood.
Soggy finger,
In the trifle.
Can I borrow,
Your sock?
And your daughter.
I need a nosh.
Plippy-ploppy-ploo!
Braaaa-ha-ha-ha-haaaaa!
Trunks.
Daniel Xerxes Hitler.
Hitler, Hitler, Hitler.
Harry Hitler.
Herman Hitler.
You’re a knobhead,
And a faggot!
Where’s your mum?
She needs a good slap.
Might finger blast her,
As well.
Probilarimandum.
Touch my willy.
Edwin Saxton–The Poeming Genius 